Home for the HHH (Hilton Head Hogbottoms)

We are packed into the vehicle, along with all our STUFF, and headed home.

Brenda in the Hole

Well, we are probably home by the time this gets posted, but at the moment I am sitting in “the hole” with my computer on my lap.  Since I can’t hook up to anybody’s Wifi, I will just cut and paste later.   And even though I already miss the ocean and its roar, I miss my girls more.

The HHH have had a great time!  We lived up to our Hogbottoms name by… well, let me explain Hogbottoms.  All five of us are in a book club called Matilda and the Hogbottoms.  Matilda Hogbottom is the alter ego of my friend, Lisa Gulley, who performs at various venues in her Matilda get-ups with her hilarious skits.

Matilda Hogbottom

She really should go on the road.  She’s that good and that funny!  At one of our book club meetings, Matilda Hogbottom showed up with little tidbits to say about all the members.  We laughed our buhineys off and were from thereon out called the Matilda and the Hogbottoms Book Club.

putting the kindle in a big quart-size baggie kept it free from sand and salt water!

This week we spent many, many hours reading and finishing our book for our next book club meeting (we also cried, rejoiced, held our breath, made theories of what could be the ending, and just flat out enjoyed that book)  Oh, yeah, the book is called The Mountain Between Us by Charles Martin.  After we finished that one, we started on new ones.

Our Kindles connected and made friends.

We each had a different color! Mine is intellectual black.

We also gave homage each evening, late, to our proclaimed name by chowing down at different restaurants.  Darla said we were like “hogs at the trough.”  And true to her analogy, we would clean our plates, practically licking them clean.  But, boy, they have some goooood food down there!  AND good desserts!

As is my routine on my last day at Hilton Head, I walked down the beach watching the families at vacation.  It is great!  I can’t decide which is my favorite:  the older couple holding hands walking along the beach; the grandmas and grandpas playing with their little grandchildren in the water, jumping the waves; the little girl with her two Barbie dolls and pink Barbie car; the dad with his little girl riding the waves on her boogie board; the little tyke in the water getting bashed by waves and hollering “Daddy” while his daddy had already started toward him from the beach, hearing that tiny little voice above the din of the ocean waves and hundreds of people; the cute little teens playing frisbee or sitting on the edge of the ocean waves; the families playing games or building awesome sand castles; the little bitty ones on their first trip to the beach, overjoyed with the waves.  Everybody watches out for everybody else.  A big family of families.

We were all mesmerized by the catamaran that overturned.

overturned catamaran — not ours, but it looked exactly like this

Actually, it sunk.  I had noticed it being rather sluggish out in the water; usually the wind will pick the sail right up and take the little boat flying off across the water.  But this particular boat was just not moving and even looked like it was sinking.  Odd.  The next time I glanced over it was on its side!  The whole beach was watching.  Finally, we saw a lifeguard swimming out to the little family, then another lifeguard.  They eventually got the boat back to the beach, and I was there waiting to see the end result.  Two young girls, maybe 11 and 12 or so, were taking their picture in front of the beached, warped-sail boat, so I asked them if they were the ones that had been on it.  Yes, they were.  Then the Mom and Dad came up, and we all chatted about their exciting adventure.  Apparently, the young man renting out the boat had failed to put the plug in, and it had started taking on water in the pontoons.  So it really did sink!  According to the girls, that was the best thing that had happened all week!

Vacation.  I even like the way the word feels in my mouth and across my lips.  Yum.

The Feet

Bummin’ at the Beach

Today is our last day.  We are all packed up and ready to load the vehicle in the morning.  It’s been a great last day of vacation at the beach.  The weather was perfect: overcast with a cool breeze.  The only mishap of the day was the jellyfish that wrapped around my ankle, but it must have been small because it didn’t sting too badly.

As I walked down the beach, it was such fun to see all the families at play, glad to be on vacation.  Some were laying out a football field while others were making a bocce spot.  Others had rented big tricycles that float in the ocean and can be paddled all over the place.  Moms were taking care of little ones, and Dads were riding bikes while pulling the children in a carrier.  There is no alcohol allowed on the beach, so it is very family friendly.  The beach patrol is always around, and today I saw the deputy sheriff vehicle driving slowly down the beach as well.  And it makes me feel safe for these families with these small children.

Older grandmas and grandpas sit under the umbrellas and watch their families all gathered together from different parts of the country.  They take walks along the beach together and help one another gather all the “beach stuff” to start the trek back to their temporary home.  The grandchildren run into the ocean, build sand castles, dig holes they can sit in, play beach tennis, surf, and have a blast.

There were cute little teenagers with their tight little bodies riding bikes along the waves, eyed by everyone: those jealous of their tightness and their youth, those appreciative of their beauty, those enjoying the fact that they were enjoying themselves.  There was a grandma with her three granddaughters on a beach walk, looking for shells and whatever else looked interesting.  There were boys and girls (and adults) making sand sculptures.

It was just neat, seeing all these people from different places around the world, enjoying God’s gift to us: the beach.  A perfect ending to a perfect week.

Waiting-on-Summer Hor D’oeuvre

Camel Rock

It’s cold here in Southern Illinois, and my weather taste buds are all set for summer.  Garden of the Gods sits in the Shawnee National Forest, a perfect place for summer picnics, camping, hiking, and falling off steep cliffs and rock animals.  Parents pack up the kiddies and the hot dogs and then hold their breath until those parents get those kiddies back on to more secure footing; a place where hippies (yes, there still are some) come to fill the air with a certain sweet tobacco aroma and bask in nature; a spot to enjoy the beauty and quiet of God’s world.

As you can see from the photo, the glaciers all those millions of years ago made some rather interesting sculptures.  This one is called Camel Rock, but perhaps it should have been named Bull Rock because some young buck is always getting thrown from that camel’s back into the thick brush below.  Every summer some drunken fool (or not so drunken — just a fool) thinks he (don’t recall any females) can jump from the surrounding rocks to the camel’s head.  And every summer the police scanners around the rural countryside cackle with the call for ambulances and rescue teams.

My friends and I used to come to this garden, this Garden of the Gods, and make camp for the weekend.  We had hair down to our butts (even the guys) and threw tents up or just laid a blanket on the ground or in the back of a pickup truck.  We cooked food over a fire (best kind there is at that age) and drank cheap wine.  It seems as though it wasn’t so long ago my feet thought they could fly, too.