Crapacity

Lately I've been throwing out crap. It's a wonderful sensation.

I don’t like clutter one bit. Like most humans, I acquire things constantly. I’ve decided it’s simply another effect of being alive. I don’t even know where the crap comes from. It’s just there when you come downstairs in the morning. I was also raised by two people from the “Rinse Off Your Tin Foil and Use It Again” era so I have a hard time getting rid of things that are not entirely repulsive. Sometimes, when I throw away something that isn’t broken or overipe my brain says, "Mom would really hate this.” and I walk away from the trashcan with a sense of guilt and shame.

A hatred for clutter and a conviction to hold on to anything that scored better than “mildly unpleasant” on the scale of Off-Putting Things means I make small piles of crap that I don’t like that I pack away with immense precision and discretion. I’m a very efficient packer. You will not find my crap piles. You will not realize the volume of crap tucked in the dark recesses of my light and airy home.

I’ve been going through my crap piles. In addition to the crap piles, I’ve been going through clothes and tossing out lots of my sad-sack, “I’m a depressed art student” shirts and the enormous pants that fit me in high-school when my affinity for sugared cereals cared not the hour of night. I started a Goodwill pile back in March when Brett noticed that most of my shoes had holes in them. He was truly appalled when he hastily barged into my closet. He insisted I throw out all five pairs of my blown-out, rubber shoes that I wore hiking across Scotland, into sterile lecture halls, and countless trips to the Surf Bar. “But all my memories are in those shoes!” I argued.

“Why do you have them on your shoe rack like they’re still an option?” he asked, ignoring the sentimental value of shoes with no soles. All the shoes he said I had to throw out sat in a bag by my door for weeks. I did finally toss them (and I haven’t thought about them since) and felt somewhat liberated. I had five new cubbies in my shoe rack. So I started a clothing pile and then space started appearing in my closet. I called Ari.

Ari told me about an article she happened to be reading about decluttering your life. (Ari and I have what we call ‘parallel lives’. We often find out that we’re listening to the same song, cooking the same dinner, reading the same article, or one time, buying the same dishes –all at the same time but in different cities.) She told me the key is to be brutal. “It needs to ‘spark joy’” she said, quoting the article, “…otherwise, get rid of it.”

I went back to my piles. “Do you spark joy?” I asked, holding up an itchy cardigan that I never wear. Suddenly, talking to my clothes, telling them whether or not they brought me joy seemed incredibly mean and I kid you not, I felt bad for my sweater. I consoled my sweater. I folded my sweater and put it back on the shelf. “This won’t work for me.” I said out loud, being sure to give an encouraging smile to the contents of my closet. Instead I threw out old paystubs and bottles of dried paint. You see, I pack away my crap piles so effectively that I forget they’re there and then I find dried paint and bank notes from 2007.

Last month, with the addition of 52 vases I had to order for a floral event, my house reached it’s crap capacity or ‘crapacity’ as I continue to call it, despite it never earning a laugh from the oblivious minds I practice my material on. I have since acquired a Lux & Union storage closet for all of my decorative bee-bobs, thrown out Taylors cumbersome fake Christmas tree box, and introduced the concept of throwing inanimate objects away promptly, before I form a relationship with them. My house feels wonderfully clean. While it always appears clutter free, I still know about the presence of the piles, those heavy, burdensome piles. Now I feel as light and airy as my living room does. How about that?

End of Summer

As a final end to our long, humid summer days, the four of us goobers spent a day on the dock. Ellen kicked off the festivities donning Dad's old wetsuit and two lifejackets, one she referred to as her diaper.

Ellen, Budds, and I headed out first. We planned to tow the windsurfing board behind a jet-ski to see if we could "surf" on it. Unfortunately, Dad ties knots too tight and we couldn't bring out any of our toys with out his help so instead, Ellen floated around and I modeled the very jet-ski I tirelessly worked to rescue just three short days ago. It and I are now very close friends, though that's a fiasco that is much too long and I am sill to sore to type.

Finally, Mom and Pops showed up and our day of fun in the sun turned into a day of pleasing Ole Budds. That pushy dog just HAS to go with you.

Look where he is sitting.

Later, Dad ruined what could have been a lovely portrait.

And just moments after this, Mom got hit by a runaway surfboard. Don't worry, she's fine. The thing slid out of its harness and slapped the old lady in her right hand and thigh. Her fingers are stiff today and though she only mentioned this in passing, Dad told her to "stop whining."

When the day was done, Giggles and Dave came over for a Low country boil, ice cream, and a football game. Carolyn impressed us with her NFL knowledge asking for each players handicap and stating that he was "shooting from downtown."

Caerphilly

Caerphilly is a glorious cheese town. People visit Caerphilly on account of a 13th century castle fortress thing, built to help a guy named Gilbert take over Glamorgan, a chunk of south Wales. More importantly to me though, they make cheese. And lots of it.

Upon my arrival in Cardiff, Lukas took me to the grocery store for my required goods; welsh cakes, custard cremes, hummus, and cheese. Last year I bought standard sandwich cheese. This year Lukas insisted I try a local cheese and suggested the Caerphilly brand. And so I bought it. And so I have eaten two blocks of it since I've been here.

It's just a quick little bus ride out of Cardiff to get to this charming little town. I know I said Cardiff was colorful but this place... I just can't explain. Deep deep colors. We walked around a bit and sat and had baguette sandwiches by the castle moat. Once inside we discovered there was a wedding going on and were instructed not to join in. T'was a neat castle. Spiral staircases, long creepy corridors, etc. Mostly I enjoyed being on the top near the turrets as I could look down onto the merry wedding reception. While I hemmed and hawed at the big bride and tiny groomsmen, behind me Lukas was trying to climb the turret up to the "restricted area" where they proudly fly the Welsh flag. Bad kid.

I insisted he stop "right this instant" but he continued springing up and down, desperately reaching for the ledge. This jump, he informed me, has been completed once before on a previous trip to Caerphilly. He in fact climbed to the top and stood proudly about his dodo-like disposition. Unfortunately this time his flip-flops were to blame for the failure and he was in fact, very disappointed.

Once he gave up on acrobatics and I finished creating the dialogue for the party down below, we headed back into town for cheese. Glorious cheese. I told Lukas I would move to Wales if I could work for the cheese monger. He told me I'd be "all blocked up". 

To my HORROR they had sold out of Caerphilly cheese for the day but had a nice selection of other Welsh cheeses. "FINE!" I shouted in my mind, stomping one foot on the ground for effect. In reality I smiled and acted like I wanted alternate cheeses the whole time anyway. 

I settled for a cheese from Snowdonia called, "Green Thunder" and politely handed over my change. I threw Green Thunder into Lukas's backpack and away we went back to Cardiff.

The Thunder and I are now close friends. The way he crumbles when I toss him just so. The bits of herbs that shimmer in the florescent lights up above. The way the cheddary goodness melts on my tongue...

Caerphilly is a glorious cheese town.

The Welsh Life

There is almost no humidity here. This means that my hair looks sensational everyday. It's thrilling. I had no idea what Charleston was doing to my hair. Not that I ever cared before. But now I know!! I can't accept what used to be!!

People here don't refrigerate their eggs. You'll find them in the bread aisle.

I've started eating currants. I love currants, though I don't know what they were before they shriveled. I put them in my salads. Other folks bake with them and eat them like raisins.

Dogs behave better than people here. Not that the people behave poorly. The dogs are just that good.

Flowers are everywhere. Window boxes, tiny yards, gardens. They even sell them at little corner stores where you would run go grab batteries and cigarettes. I see new ones at the grocery store almost everyday because people buy them right up. Seems everyone buys a bouquet of flowers with their produce and dairy.

There are buses and taxis and trains. You really don't need a car. I find this particularly exciting as I love walking so much and my legs can now take me anywhere I want to go. No need to buy gas, change oil, or drive on the wrong side. Cardiff is a relatively small city, though it is easy to get lost and some places are just too far to wander to. Well, perhaps if I wasn't following Lukas's storm trooper pace...

Though ye be warned, some buses don't run on Sundays and will leave you stranded alone in the wilderness.

Everyone here hates my swipey credit card. I cause a scene everywhere I go as they barely have swipers anymore. It often takes management to ring me up as the employees are only used to seeing Chip and Pin cards. You just stick those in a slot, enter your pin, and leave. I have to play with signatures and receipts and typing in the whole number. "Oh do y'all have a pen?" 

"Y'all? A what?" 

"A pen. To sign. I have a swipey card." 

"Let me go get the manager."

Some places simply can't take my swipey card. "I'm sorry. No." And they check my signature! No one ever checks the signature at home.

There are tons of little fun facts. The tiny cars. The demi-flush vs the whole-flush. You have roughly 4 seconds to cross major highways. ETC... can't think of them all now. 

I intend to be more informative with my posts soon. Can't seem to quite get myself together. You know how when you're not at home, you pretend it's not real life?

Herbs n' Things

Before I get started on today's rant, look at this oldie-but-goodie. Alston kills me!

So, get this.

Last week before she left, I went with Ari to see an acupuncturist. Ari has been seeing this nice lady for a few months now for a couple of different health reasons and she's been ranting and raving about how much better she feels and all this good stuff on and on. I was skeptical. I pictured curtains of beads and shrunken heads floating in jars of plant syrups.

I was shocked to walk into a professional doctors office that provided you with hot tea, ginger candy, and home improvement magazines. The lady, her name is Karyla, is a normal, Italian-American human being. She just found herself interested in herbal medicine, which lead to Asia, which leads to sticking people with pins in all the right places.

I know it's a weird thing, but it's more a matter of changing your perception of what medical treatment is. In Asia, people see this kind of doctor first, before they consider antibiotics and hospitals. Karyla was extremely nice and funny and could laugh about how kooky her herbal talk sounded at times. She was able to explain acupuncture and herbal medicine to me in a way that actually does make sense if you take the time to consider it. It's just a different way of thinking about health and healing. Anyways, I casually mentioned to her that heat was bothering me and making me dizzy. "When did it start?" she asked. "About a year ago, after a trip a to Greece." I replied. And then she asks lightheartedly, as though she already knew the answer, "Were you on antibiotics in Greece?" I was. I was!! Remember that bacterial throat thing I got towards the end of my trip? They gave me some really high powered antibiotics. I remember Abby being concerned about the prescription, saying it was very strong and in the States, this particular antibiotic is prescribed for really big problems, not a bad sore throat. But I took them like they said. I finished the round of 'em a week into Wales and another week later was my first big dizzy spell, like the ones that have plagued me since I've been back. 

I became so excitable when she asked me this question. I don't know why. I think I just knew that she just knew. She told me basically that the antibiotics were too strong and wiped out the good "flora" in my stomach and intestines that help to keep my body cool and in balance. She says this happens a lot actually. The antibiotics kill more than just the bad stuff and leave peoples insides like dry, barren deserts. She told me to eat lots of Greek yogurt.

Oh, I meant to show you this picture. I think Ari had 19 pins in her. Three on her face!!

Anyways, I continued grilling her and even set up my own appointment to come and talk to her, which I did yesterday. Oh as a fun fact, she told me that hot flashes are in the same category of my ailment, and that they are predominately caused by eating too much sugar and carbs (and a dwindling supply of estrogen) (See! Throwing off that flora balance). She said that the plain Greek yogurt helps your body to cultivate the good flora that keeps your body cool. Mom was devastated when I told her this, though she promptly consumed almost the entire tub of yogurt Dad had purchased to help heal his sick child. Thanks Mom.

I told Karyla that I was worried about going back to Greece. She told me that being hot is a little dangerous for me just because my body can't cool itself properly. She gave me some strong probiotics which she explained to me as microscopic bugs that will make my good flora grow back. I take these strong ones for two weeks and then I move down to some less potent ones. She did say that it will take 3-6 months for me to get back to how I was before (a lover of the humid days) but that this certainly won't last forever, especially if I eat my yogurt and lay off the sugar. Consider it a Christmas present, she said. "To be back to normal by New Years."

After feeling "not myself" for a year, I'm somehow disproportionally excited that only 6 months from now I'll feel good again. I just have to make it through this hot summer...

Feasts n' Things

For a while now I've been feeling feasty. Overwhelmed with the urge to cook up a big meal for all my favorite folks. But since they couldn't be here I settled for my family instead (only joking) and what better time for such a feast than a visit by the one and only Aunt Georgie. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my day in the kitchen. Like a good woman should. (Again, I'm joking) (I'm feeling kind of sassy today). And I was very pleased with the outcome. I wish I had more time to dedicate to food preparation of sorts. Speaking of which, I only have five more weeks of school. Outrageous! Perhaps Dad will hire me to be a live-in chef. And dog walker. Oh and grass cutter. I think I'm on to something. It's a good thing I'll have that art degree to help me weed the garden.

What a discourteous child. I wonder what makes you wake up to be so cheeky somedays.

Family Time Things

Gosh I feel like I have so much to say. I can't organize myself. One day at a time you say? Well.

I told you I would keep you posted on our Non-Thanksigicing celebration. And so I shall. Giggles created a Build Your Own Fancy Sandwich set-up, including griddle warmed bread. Carolyn, our "short order" cook made Bob wait 15 minutes for a sandwich. The rest of us doled out grub from a colorful display in the kitchen. I believe there was a football game on and that is why everyone ate in the living room, slumped in their chairs. Grandma however, sat at the table in the other room with Siti who was still in town for the Black Friday Shopping deals. Melody informed us that they spent 7 hours in Dillards and still went back the next day. Siti amused me with her spontaneous shouts of "SACK 'EM!!" once she had moved back into the social lounge. Prior to everyone coming over, Siti was out cold on the sofa.

We presented Bob with a carrot cake I whipped up just for him and I am proud to say it received rave reviews. Also, we were very entertained by a Burping Birthday Card sent to Bob by his loving brother. The card would let out a looooong screeching belch at every opening. An instant classic. I left shortly after dinner to meet up with some musically inclined folks so I don't really know how the evening turned out. Although Grandmas been on a recent kick trying to get one of us Grandkids in the Used Car Business. -something she read about in the paper.

As of last night, I received a phone call informing me that this coming Thursday Mom, Dad, Giggs and Dave, and Ellen and Chris are planning on going salsa dancing at Southend on East Bay. This will be a Union/Ray family fiasco to laugh at for years to come. I think I'm going to have to bring Jared. Although he'll probably end up running the show. 

Awe Geez....

Some Cheese for That Whine?

I realized something. I complain a lot.

But you see, in my mind I'm not complaining. It's simply a running commentary. I'm not actually bothered by the things I observe. Either way, and most importantly, I really only complain about school. Do I whine about going to work? Do I complain about paying bills? Do I mewl at pumping gas in the cold? No I do not. In conclusion, once I am done with school (in just 5 short (long) months) I'll have noting to whinge about. I'll be a happy camper with nothing before me but open road and Mom and Dad's sofa. I hereby state that despite the dreary-some outlook I portray for myself on this silly blog of mine, I'm quite tickled for my bleak future of naps and good meals. Who could ask for more?

In other news, as an "artistic" assignment I had to write up my own obituary. Ahem...

"Sunday September 2, 2013

Laura Anne Union, 23, of James Island SC, passed away suddenly of morbid obesity after a life-long love affair with cake batter and pimento cheese.

Born in Kentucky and raised in South Carolina, Laura was best known for her thunderous cackle, squeamish demeanor, and severe urges for spontaneous naps and rearranging furniture. Laura enjoyed the simple things in life and always made time for the ridicule and scorn of others. Much of her time was spent in deep philosophical thought- coming to conclusions for both the inexhaustible woes of bathing suit shopping as well as the enigmatic yet seductive qualities of dark chocolate. The memorial service for Laura will be held this Wednesday Sept, 5, at Boone Hall Plantation where she worked for years, insisting on manual labor as her main form of income in a perpetual effort to dismiss “The Man”.

In lieu of flowers, Laura asks that you consider creating a rotational, volunteer-based schedule to ensure that her dog Buddy, may continue with his morning kayak rides."

It entertained me if nothing else. 

Briefly in other news, we are preparing for our Thanksgiving Day assaults by making Pumpkin Truffles and Mom's most recent attempts at making homemade toffee- something she has decided is her "next big thing". This has yet to work out.  I am done with school for a few days whereupon everything is due on my return next Monday. Ellen is planning to take a waiting job at "Barbra Jeans" in addition to her twice-a-week Bistro gig. She hopes this will bring her more money and therefore peace to the rest of us family members. For a solid 50 minutes, Mom, Ellen, and I convinced ourselves there was a "Tuna Ghost" in the house before discovering that the fishy odor was coming from Mom's bedroom shoes.

Dad continues his daily scurrying about, blindly barreling through everyday life with a bounce in his step and a phone on his ear.

* Mom insists I inform you that she in fact stepped in something "fishy" and that it was not her natural foot odor causing the offense.

Rome

My solo trip from London to Rome was my last moment of personal space. After waiting 2 hours for my lost luggage, falling asleep on a train bound for who knows where, and wandering casually through Rome hoping I would stumble upon the correct hotel, I found Ellen and Jared and so it began.

I enjoyed the warm welcome I received from Ellen the most. Usually she doesn't like me much and I was pleased to see that she missed having me around to bark out household tasks and patronize her while she tells me her problems. The three of us kids sat around talking and laughing before finding Giggs and Dave for a grand noddle-y meal. Just like at home, Ellen kept our hotel room so cold that I  couldn't sleep. Instead I stayed awake and at 2:30am I received an alarming phone call that informed me that my luggage had found my hotel.

The next day the rest of the band arrived and we did much aimless wandering and pizza munching. A sassy waitress slung Ellen's purse off of the table and onto a chair and put Ellen into a foul mood for the rest of the day. Once she sulked off back to the hotel, Jared and I took off exploring Rome, dancing in doorways, watering plants, and searching for just the right gelato.

Once dinner rolled around, we huffed it over to the tourist trap Piazza Navona for a mediocre meal. After, was our attempt at finding the Spanish steps however Ellen and Jared became irritable walking in the big group of the nine of us. After wandering for ages, it seems we all got testy and Georgia snatched the map from Jared's assured grasp. I felt woozy from the sudden onslaught of humidity and heat after being so cold for a month. We gave up on the Steps and settled for gelato and Limoncello. We had a big day coming and needed to pack our things and attempt to sleep.