I'll Call It Like I See It

by sheila morris

Author: Sheila Morris

  • can you walk 4 miles in Pretty’s shoes?


    Occasionally I luck into making a good decision – not often, mind you, just once in a blue moon…

    the moon wasn’t blue, but it was a full moon

    (the view from our little balcony – the moonlight bathed our room)

    My apparently good decision was to take Pretty to the beach for a couple of days for our anniversary. The background story involves Pretty’s penchant for purchasing her own treasures not only for herself but also for her antique businesses which means there is nothing left for me to buy for major occasions such as our anniversary. Enter my idea for the beach trip to Tybee Island, thanks to the magic of online surfing. Yes, Pretty totally gave me credit for this splendid idea.

    neither Pretty nor I had ever been to Tybee Island

    (which is just across the Savannah River into Georgia)

    you betcha!

    As soon as we got to our room, after a minor aggravation at the front desk about who Pretty was and why wasn’t I the one rushing in to handle the check-in process since the reservation was in my name, Pretty took off for the beach to scope out her walking destinations while I made sure the tv was operating properly. She walked a mile the first afternoon we were there and came in raving about the Tybee beach.

    We determined to jump out of our box for tv viewing on our trip, and I became hooked on the house channel when Pretty went out for a walk. Yes, believe it or not, I had never watched the house channel before and I became emotionally invested in the couples who had to make the tortuous choice between “loving” their newly renovated home or “listing” it to move to the most fabulous new home in the universe. I mostly wanted to love it because I definitely preferred Hillary the hot renovator over David the blah realtor. Sigh. Who’s surprised.

    the weather was perfect, the island lovely

    I spent a small amount of time poolside

    the views were spectacular, the colors simply amazing

    Fannie’s offered a wide variety on their menu

    I’m not sure we would recommend the combination of

     nachos and fried shrimp for dinner –

    just because you love them both doesn’t mean they go great together

    Alas, while I pondered the love it or list it issues, Pretty spent most of the next day walking on the beach and ended up walking 4 miles from our northern end of the island all the way to the southern tip and back. Now why would she do something so excessive.  I have no clue.

    She came limping home with a huge blister on the bottom of her foot. Uh, oh. Pretty was confined to quarters, and we watched our very first episode ever of Dancing with the Stars that night. We found the competition among the athletes as gut wrenching as my roller coaster of emotions in the  love it or list it dilemmas. We were disappointed that the snow boarder was bumped instead of one of the basketball players who we felt should stick to hoops – no disrespect intended.

    on the way home Pretty discovered an art gallery…

    …and was excited to find a tiny treasure

    next stop: Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah

    the infamous resting place that became the cover for

    Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil

    the bird lady statue had been moved to a museum

    but Pretty struck the proper pose

    while I soaked in the views

    Can you believe this luck? An estate sale!

    The end to a truly perfect mini-vacation for Pretty was the adventure of following the Estate Sale Today signs to a secret location hidden in a Savannah suburb.

    Utopia. Bliss. The words I would also use to describe the getaway to Tybee Island…I predict we, as General Macarthur famously declared, shall return.

    Stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

  • the view from behind totally rocks!


    When a birthday begins like this, what can go wrong…

    Spike and Charly were up early with me

    the sun also rises

    I love the early morning outside in the back yard when the sun is coming up through the trees, and all is quiet except the jets on the pool which sound like  mountain waterfalls discovered after a long hike in the hills of the upstate, a hike which I never thought I’d really be able to make because I stopped so many times along the trail to catch my breath and look upward to try to see the end of the trail, hoping to be able to finally hear the majestic roar of the waterfall.

    In reality, when I stopped to rest for a few minutes, what I saw when I looked up was the posterior of Pretty as she forged ahead to scout the next section of the trail to make sure I would have a place to dilly dally along while she continued at her measured pace.  When I stop to think about it, I have spent the last 18 years of my life following Pretty’s posterior. It’s a view I’ve always loved.

    Today my mind meandered to one of my favorite hikes with Pretty. It was six years ago when we followed the trail to Peachtree Rock.

    wherever we hiked, Pretty led the way

     

    Ollie liked to lead, too so he stayed with Pretty

    the waterfall was just enough beautiful

    Pretty and Ollie climbed all the way to the top

    Pretty surveys her spoils as the Victor of that day’s climb

    Peachtree Rock in March, 2012

    (vandals and erosion destroyed the rock in 2013)

    I was lost in my reverie of memories on my birthday in the early a.m. hours when I heard Pretty calling Happy Birthday to me from the hall for the first birthday greetings of the day. By this time I had moved inside to the den, and Pretty sat down next to me as she straggled in sleepily to chat.

    I really can’t believe you are 74 today, she said.

    That’s because I’m 72, I replied and we both laughed out loud.

    Numbers have never been Pretty’s strong suit. She had a convoluted explanation for her gaffe, but in the end was, of course, incorrect. Too funny. If only she’d miscalculated in the opposite direction…

    Birthday # 72 was a rousing success that apparently continues along with anniversary adventures on the horizon. April is a banner month for our family. Number One Son and Pretty Too celebrated their 3rd. Anniversary the day after ours and are thrilled to take their party to an Eric Church concert – whoever he is. I say Party Hearty, kids; these are your good old days.

    I also say stay tuned.

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • I had decided to take a sabbatical from calling it like I see it until…


    …Pretty talked me out of it.

    Yes, Pretty was convinced some of my cyberspace friends would miss me. I told her I thought I might need a break from blogging after almost 9 years so that I could focus on doing some “serious writing.”

    Writing about what? Pretty asked.

    And there she had me.

    I couldn’t think of anything truly earth shattering I had to relate to anyone, nothing pressing that couldn’t wait another year or two, and really nothing I couldn’t say to my friends in cyberspace anyway. Bravo, Pretty. No wonder I married you legally two years ago tomorrow.

    The years have flown by – I never thought I would live to be 30, and certainly never dreamed of 72, but I always dreamed of having a wife from the time I was a very young girl. I just never dreamed one day I would be able to marry another woman legally, and I for sure couldn’t have imagined I would marry a woman as perfect for me as Pretty has been.

    To borrow from The Sound of Music, somewhere in our youths or childhoods, we must have done something good.

    Pretty knows best

    Stay tuned. If you will, I will.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • powerless


    Yesterday we had a fierce storm with tornado like winds, driving downpours of rain and no electricity from about 2:30 p.m. until 9:00 0’clock this morning.

    As darkness fell in our family room last evening, Charly had a mindful moment hiding her face in the absence of the television sights and sounds she was accustomed to seeing and hearing during a lazy Sunday afternoon. Pretty had no Wi-Fi  so no Facebook scrolling.  The winds were howling louder than the beagles behind our house.Was the world coming to an end, Charly wondered as she hid her face behind her favorite pillow in her favorite chair?

    Thank goodness Pretty saved the day, or night, with her lamp she purchased from the Thrift Store on one of her many pilgrimages across the river to her version of paradise. I tend to be less than enthusiastic about her treasures carefully picked among the donated items, but I was thrilled to have this bright light shining through the darkness of powerlessness.

    .

    We exhausted our conversation ideas that included wondering what in the world the people of Puerto Rico were doing without power all this time while I played Scrabble against the computer since I also had no Wi-Fi, and Pretty read a book.

    The lamp was a life-saver.

    We went to bed early.

    Stay tuned.

  • and soon I’m two and seventy


    I had a very sweet Happy Birthday message today on my Columbia High Class of 1964 message board from one of my boyfriends who I noticed had sent me birthday greetings for the past 3 years on this website which I never check. Thanks so much to Tim for remembering me. I immediately went to Facebook and added him as a friend so that I can send him birthday greetings on whatever day his might be. I confess I have been remiss in wishing others a Happy Birthday unless I am prompted to do so by the Big Brother of Facebook who is forever watching over me.

    I am struck by how soon my 72nd. birthday will be…April 21, one week from today. Sweet Lady Gaga, as The Red Man famously said, how did this happen. My first birthday card came from my personal Medicine Man Dr. Martin and his entire staff. These are the people who see me most frequently, and I appreciated the Life is Meant to Live and be Celebrated sentiments. I figure if they’re hopeful for my future, I should be, too.

    I’ve received not one, but two, birthday cards from former President Jimmy Carter and the Carter Center, both of which were quite lovely and one signed by the President himself. Why two, you might ask, as I did. And then, of course, my bank ATM machines have been unusually prompt on good wishes whenever I’ve made withdrawals in April which I assume has something to do with their corporate guilt for the outrageous service charges they favor me with every month.

    The message board for the 1964 Columbia High School graduating class in West Columbia, Texas took me back 54 years to that senior year when I was about to graduate from high school and leave my little town of Brazoria, Texas that was 15 miles from the Gulf Coast for summer school at the University of Texas in Austin 90 miles away. Big changes were on the way for me, but take a look at the images of my senior year when I was voted by my 90+ person class as the Best All Round favorite, or as my dad invariably teased me by saying, she was the best all the way around.

    Return with me to those thrilling days of yesteryear when my mother was always so happy for me to be dating a boy.

    Note particularly the hands and feet

    (Poor photographer – he must have spent hours on that pose)

    (our mascot was the Roughneck)

    I am the one on the far left with fist pumped

    Senior prom

    my mother rolled my hair until I left for college

    Senior Follies – and they were

    I sang an unremarkable rendition of the St. Louis Blues

    my lifelong love of tennis began here…

    …and basketball, too

    and of course, the political

    The photos today are courtesy of me with my cell phone and my yearbook so quality leaves much to be desired, but you get the general idea of this 18-year-old baby dyke trying her best to be straight but  unknowingly about to add complexity to her sexual awareness through life in a women’s dormitory at the state’s largest university where the population of the dorm was greater than the population of the town where she grew up. Talk about trouble.

    Stay tuned.