'Tis The Day After Christmas

It's the day after Christmas, and all through the house,
All the creatures are stirring, even the stuffed grouse.
The dishes were washed in the kitchen with care,
In hopes that Miss Flo soon would be there.

My husband is snuggled all warm in our bed,
While visions of rice planting dance in his head.
And, Xena with her ball, and Blaze with his bone,
Have eaten their breakfast and now can just zone.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chaise to see what was the matter,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
To open the french doors and threw up the sash.

The newly-risen sun on the dewy marsh grass,
Gave off kaleidoscopic colors of freshly-made stained glass,
When, what to my wondering eye should appear,
But, Sara and her dogs; -- oh, what a dear!

With her high snake boots, and dog whistle in her hand,
I knew that it must be time for her little band,
To rush through the old oak grove and dove field across the way,
They had time to get there, with nary a neigh,

For the owners with their horses were not quite up yet,
They were still washing and grooming and leading with reins, I'll bet,
So the dogs tore off, tails all a-wiggling,
To look for other creatures, to play, romp, do some diggling.

There were fire ants, chiggers, and plenty of snakes,
Mole crickets, toads, possums, even armadillos for heaven sakes!
So they rolled and they romped and they jumped and they jived,
Until Sara felt that she barely survived,

All the fun and the excitement of the field that they had,
She wanted them home before they had a chance to be bad.
So, whistled she did and they came running around,
Obedient hunting dogs they, not some dumb kind of hound.

I looked again out my window, and what should I see,
But a gander of goose, and egrets flying --with glee.
When I looked in the sky, I could hardly believe,
So many different birds, that I went to retrieve...

My camera, my binocs, my phone and my bird book,
So that I could see and record and have a good look,
Because the beauty of these birds had to be captured,
I was totally and completely and fully enraptured.

Kites, and terns, and long-billed white ibis,
Squawked and warbled like a low-country Imis,
Great blue herons, plovers, woodstorks and ducks,
Turkey vultures, falcons, and eagles, what luck!

Songbirds, and spoonbills, and sparrows and all,
Flying up, up, up, with nary a fall,
'Til they flew out out sight, beyond my vision,
Of that I am sure, there can be no derision.

So I looked into the water, and what should I see?
But, a dolphin and her babies, feeding at sea.
She breached and she splashed and she made the fish jump,
So her babies could feed and eat a fish-lump.

They splashed and they squeaked and they swam and they fed,
Until at last they had eaten enough of their bread,
So off they swam...
Down the creek, through the bay, to the sea..on the lam.

I watched until I could see them no more,
And, turned back and I then looked to the shore,
Where I saw tracks, new and deep, in the sand,
What was it, who left those tracks on the land?'

'Twas the 12 point buck, the one that men wanted,
The one hunters stalked and chased, but were still haunted,
By the elusiveness and stealth of the hearty strong buck,
Who left them feeling all bereft of good luck.

For they waited and sat in their stands way up high,
To see that strong buck when he chanced to come nigh,
But they waited in vain for that buck in the field,
For he never allowed them their hopes for a yield.

And, so, from the Lowcountry, all verdant outside,
Where folks tend the land with a great deal of pride,
We wish y'all a Merry Christmas-time,
And, we hope you enjoyed this new festive rhyme.

Seriously, hope y'all had a very Merry Christmas! With love from the Bubba-ette...

Driving Horses

This morning I went for a horsecart ride.

At 9:30, I went to Brenda's house to take a ride on her 1890 horsecart with her two horses. She calls it "driving horses." Aren't they beautiful?


We -- well, actually, she -- brushed and groomed her horses, harnessed them up to the cart and off we went. Down to the docks, over to Scott's Neck and into the hunt fields. It was a beautiful day. We walked, trotted and made our way through the roads, trails, fields.


There is something about experiencing nature from a horsecart. You just see things differently than if you were in a car. Or even a bike. For me, it's even a different sense from running or walking through these fields. Maybe it's because the horses are doing the work, and their effort leaves me free to be completely open to the sensory experience -- the way the air smells, the warmth of the sun on my skin, the clumps of holly in the woods. What a magnificient day!

Thank you Brenda!!

Alligators in our Pond

We've got a gator in our pond -- can you find him in this picture?

He's eating our fish -- we've got carp, bream, catfish, minnows and more. Hope he'll leave some for us...

Settlin' In

Today is a magnificent day. Sunny, bright, cold. It was 34 degrees when I got into the car this morning.

This is one of those days where everything is unfolding...

I got up this morning and went swimming in the pool before any one else showed up. It was hot and very relaxing, especially to those tense muscles that haven't been worked for awhile. Right as I got out of the pool, the attendants brought big, white, fluffy towels that had come right out of the dryer. Ahhhhhh...

As I drove out of the fitness center, I hopped out of the car, hood over my wet head, to see if there were any pecans (remember, it's pronounced PEEcans) on the ground. While the leaves have started coming down, the big brown hand-like spreads covering much of the uncut grass, I could see a couple of nuts peeking through. It became a treasure hunt. I had to find the season's last pecans. So, I developed a technique. I shuffled my aqua-blue Keen Mary Janes through the lightly frosted grass and leaves until I felt something hard under my foot. A pecan!

So, I ran back to the car, emptied my bathing suit and cap out of the plastic bag I use to carry them, and took the bag across the street to pick. And, I picked and I picked and I picked. Half a bag. I'll shell a couple for breakfast -- and bring the rest to my parents and sister, who have never eaten pecans taken right off the tree.

Drove to the mailroom, picked up the mail, drove over the dike where I saw some egrets and blue herons and on home. On the way home, I tuned into NPR, where I heard an interview with Carl Reiner and Mel Brooks. When you live in the South, car radio becomes much more important as driving becomes a huge part of your life. Did you know that I have to drive 35 minutes to find a pharmacy, extensive grocery store, and a liquor store? That's a lot of driving time for this city girl. So, I pass the driving time listening to music CDs, audio tapes, talking books, radio, and talking to my clients and friends on my hands-free cell phone. It's a strange adjustment from using public transportation for 23 years, that's for sure.

Home to feed the dogs...it's so cold, they were sleeping under the heater in the garage. Now the dogs are inside with me, one at my feet, Blaze of course, and Xena across the room. I feel warm and happy and content.

Tonight there will be an oyster roast...stay tuned for more stories in tomorrow's edition...!

A Note to Eve

Dear Evie:

Thanks for wishing me a Happy Thanks-giving. As for your question, did you kill your own turkey? The answer is: no, turkey season is in the spring. :o)

But, if we had been stalking an unlucky turkey, this is what his "track" would have looked like. I took this picture on our "farm" on October 25th.

Much love, Leslie

BANG BANG...An Untraditional Thanksgiving

In my old life, a traditional Thanksgiving meant going to church, hearing the people in the congregation give thanks for blessings received during the year, followed by a yummy turkey and friends and family at my parents' house.

In my new life, everything is different. Thanksgiving means...shooting? That's right.

Today, instead of going to church, I called in to a church service broadcast by one of my former churches in Connecticut. It was fun to listen in...I could recognize many voices.

As is true with my new life, it was a day packed with adventure. My husband and I took a glorious bike ride around the plantation. On the way, we stopped at a car that was parked in the middle of the road. What were they doing? Give up? Why...seeding oyster beds, that's what. Of course. :o)

Then we came back to start the next adventure of the day. A little background...Jeff, my husband's best friend, passed on right before our wedding, and we have stayed close to his family ever since. His wife still lives next door for part of the year. So, today, we spent our Thanksgiving with her, and her daughter and son-in-law and two grandsons.

We took all of them -- minus Sara who was cooking -- to our "farm". Jesseca and I picked while the guys did "boy things." Here's a picture of me pickin'.


And, here's a picture of what we picked!


Then, she and I walked part of the grounds, ending up at the pond where the guys were fishing. Lots of fun, not a lot of fish.

Later on, we went shooting...that's what you can do when you live on a sporting plantation. Even the ladies shoot, usually not to kill, just to hit the sporting clays. I'm not there yet, but will let you know when I take my first shot.

A different Thanksgiving, for sure, but it was a great day.

Check out this sunset!

Check out this sunset -- I took this picture from our backyard. Gorgeous!

New Day Tomorrow!

After days of rain, I see a clearing. Here is the view off of our backyard.

Tomorrow will be a new day!

Halloween

Yep, that's me.

Can you guess who I am? Yes, Glinda.

We've Got Okra!

Check this out...have you ever seen red heirloom okra? Here it is. I love the flower.

And, for those of you bubba-ettes who have more experience cooking with it than this Connecticut Yankee, I'm open to recipe ideas. Thanks. :o)

PS. Here is the Star of David okra. Pretty cool, no?

Pickin' Pecans

This is what a pecan looks like when it falls off the tree. Isn't is splendid? This pecan is about 2 inches long. Now, that's a pecan!

It's one of the many gifts of the Lowcountry's bounty...pecans.

As a born Yankee, I learned to say "pee-CONS'", with the accent on "cons." Here we say PEE-cans...unless it is in a pie and then it becomes "pee can" pie, with equal emphasis on the "pee" and the "can", go figure.

So, here's a picture of my husband pickin' pecans under one of our favorite trees. Look at the size of the basket. We've got a bunch of baskets full. How many? More than 3. They should last us awhile!

And, we are going to comb over every inch of the earth and pick up every pecan because here's something you might not know. Pecan trees yield fruit every other year -- so next year, no pecans. You gotta get them while you can.

There is nothing quite like a fresh pecan. True, they are difficult to crack, but that makes it more fun.

We have a special device in our kitchen just for shellin' pecans. You can adjust the back to hold the pecan, located on the left hand side, depending on the length of the nut, then grab the lever on the right hand side and swing to the left...CRACK! The sharp point on the right hand side, pierces the shell and it cracks perfectly in half, if you do it right. And, if for some reason, it doesn't crack quite right, you can still use the pick, which looks like a utensil you might use to remove the hard-to-get pieces of a lobster. Lots of effort, plenty of reward.

There it is. The meat of the nut. And, when it comes right off the tree, like in the above picture, it will be supple and moist and ... absolutely yummy. I've gotta go...am going to go crack a PEcan.

Hoota Woods Redux

Check out the produce from Hoota Woods! We are producing...

green peppers, black peppers, patty pan squash, hot peppers, yellow squash, zucchini, yellow tomatoes, okra and red okra.

It's yummy!

Visiting My Parents

Last week, I went to visit my parents in Chicago.

(BTW, in case you were wondering, this is a picture of the stuffed animals that greeted me in the guest room of my sister's house, where I stayed.)

I miss my parents.

It was strange this summer to go to New Hampshire and stay at the family cabin -- without them. For most of my lifetime, that was our family pattern.

This year it was different. My parents were unable to go.

I was used to seeing them often when I lived in New York. They lived only 30 miles away in Connecticut and it was easy to visit. Even after I was married, I travelled to New York monthly and could check in with them. In May, they moved to Chicago to be closer to my sister and her children and to live in an environment where they could receive more care.

So, it's been a process of letting go of old patterns and reaching forward to create new experiences. There is sadness and wistfulness associated with the letting go. But, I know that to ease that I can look forward, with excitement, to the new experiences that can be created when the old patterns go away.

My parents are living in an independent living facility, which is full of vibrant and caring people. They have already made friends. Both of my parents need care right now, and I'm happy to know that they are receiving a very high level of care and are safe. It's a HUGE relief.

My parents are in the process of recreating their lives. I've told them that they have a choice: either they can measure every new experience against what they've known and what feels familiar, or they can decide to be happy and look for reasons to support that state of mind. I recommend the second option.

I'm in...

..Tennessee!

Yes, if you guessed Tennessee, you were right.

This is Lake Watauga in the Appalachian Mountains. Created in 1948 by the TVA, it covers about 10 miles in a very rural part of the state. It's really beautiful.

And, remote. You can only get to it by taking winding mountain roads. We had to take a left by the Baptist church and drive through a Confederate cemetery to get to our friends' house on the shore.

I do find it a little creepy that underneath this lake, there are towns that were flooded when this lake was formed. Apparently they drain the lake every 20 years -- and you can see the towns that lay beneath.

Summer Roundup

It was a full summer...and a beautiful one in the Lowcountry.

I enjoyed the beach, as you can see.

Mostly though, it was a busy summer.

In June, I received my last load of furniture from up North. My parents were able to make the move from Chicago at the end of May and we split up the contents of the home. So, I spent time in June, trying to get moved in all over again.

July marked workshops. I facilitated another round of workshops, 16 to be exact, in the Lowcountry, in the four surrounding counties. This time it was different. The "official" unemployment rate in one of these counties is 22%, and you and I know that the "actual" rate is much higher. I bet it's over 30%. That's 1 in 3 people not working. We are hurting down here.

August was a relief. I had fun in New Hampshire with my sister and her children. It was kind of a poignant time actually. For the first time in 40 years, my parents weren't able to come and I stayed alone in the family cabin. I missed them. But, I sure had fun with Kathy, Emily and Luke. It was a precious time. We hiked, swam, walked, swam, ate, swam...you get the idea.

Sunrise on Beech Mountain

I thought you'd like to see the sunrise on Beech Mountain, right off our back porch. We are slightly below 5,000 feet. It's beautiful...

Another Rainbow!!

This picture was taken off of our back porch in North Carolina.

Another beautiful rainbow...

Poppa's Wicker

Check out this wicker!

These wicker chairs are from the 1920's and belonged to my grandfather, Poppa.

They were kind of old and grey. I spray painted them and had the material on the covers changed. They are SO beautiful. I've got these chairs on the porch off of my office and plan to host many teleseminars from this little nook.

Stay tuned...

Rainbows

It's been a wonderful summer for rainbows. Check out this one.

Seen at a parking lot...at Wal-Mart.

Don't ask... :o)

New Haircut!!

The other day, I attended a meeting of small business owners in the Lowcountry.

As is true of most networking events, we went around the room and introduced ourselves. The first person to introduce herself was a woman who said that she was a hair stylist. Now, after reading my previous blog, you can imagine how excited I was to find this out!

Even though I was there to meet the woman who hosts the entrepreneurial training workshop, I had more important matters to handle. After the meeting ended, I made a bee-line for the lady hairstylist (who happened to be speaking to the entrepreneurial training hostess).

"I just got the second worst haircut of my life," I blurted out.

"I noticed," she said.

"Can it be fixed?"

"Absolutely."

So, two days later, I drove down to her place in Savannah, GA and 5 hours later...I emerged a new woman. Just take a look and see...

BACK POST - Pecan Grove Picnic

Hey, please check out this posting under April 26,2009.

Read all about my experience last year going for a picnic in a pecan grove. And, for you Northerners out there, here's the deal on pronunciation...

If you are talking about a tree or a grove or the nut itself, the word is PEE'can.
If you are talking about a pie, it's pee-CON'.

Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. I did!

Bad Haircut, Great Haircut

For a woman, there is nothing worse than a bad haircut.

No matter what you put on, what clothes you wear, what shoes you sport, what accessories you flaunt...nothing can overcome the innate sense that you know your hair looks horrific and by association, that you look bad.

Living in a new place, I have been faced with the challenge of finding someone who can "do" my "do." Cut, color, the works. (Color? Yes, I'm a natural blond, but...)

Any way, I've been looking for someone who knows how to cut my hair. It's not an easy task. It's tricky because my hair strands are thin, but I have a lot, a lot of hair. So, inexperienced hairstylists think that they can cut layers into the top layer of hair, but when they do that, I end up looking like I have two hair cuts, the layered one on top and long hair on the bottom. I usually look worse than Florence Henderson on the Brady Bunch. Remember her shag? Ug....

I even had a difficult time in New York.

Right before I left the city, I had finally found a dream hair stylist -- Avi from Israel -- who always made me look glamerous. And, what girl doesn't want to look like a glam girl? Any way...back to my search in the Lowcountry...

My colorist doesn't know how to cut. So, I went looking...when I heard that a friend of mine had gotten a terrific cut, I went to the hair salon where she had gone and asked for an appointment with their "top stylist," someone who specialized in knowing how to cut layers. Great!

So, I went in to my appointment and explained all about my hair...that I didn't want short layers on top, that you had to cut layers into the hair, that the layers needed to be underneath, everything she had to know. And, she went to work...snip, snip, snip...and...I came out of the shop looking like...

Snoopy. Yes, that's right, I came out of the hair salon looking like Charlie Brown's dog. There was this big puffy layer around the top of my head which frizzed up in this humidity and then long straight layers that hung around my face like dog's ears. When I saw the cut, I exclaimed: "OMG, I hate it!"

It was really, really bad. Look at this picture...

I have a big week...social engagements, dinners, professional meetings, a consulting assignment, getting my military ID. I really don't want to have to get an ID where I will be reminded of this haircut for years to come.

Stay tuned...

Catching Up With You...

Hi everyone -- I'm back.

I've missed talking with you. You see, it's been a crazy couple of months. Easter came and went...I spent the week with my parents in CT, helping them to get the house ready for the big move to Chicago.

Here's an accounting of the weekends that followed...

Landon and I had our first wedding anniversary.
Landon's son Bo graduated from college.
Mother's Day was spent in CT with my mom, dad, and sister as we poured through the house, knowing that in 14 days, we'd be moved out.
I celebrated my "special day".
The following weekend was "the move."
Back to the Lowcountry where I needed some time to recoup and re-establish.

And, here I am.

My intention is to backdate some posts and to take you through that journey with me. It was the best of times, with some challenging times, but all in all, a lot packed into a short period of time.

Jump on and I'll take you for that ride!

Jackie's In the House!

YIPPEE!!

Jackie's coming back...

Apparently her stint in a nursing home didn't last. She wants to come back. I'm thrilled. Miss Flo is thrilled.

She's back...

BTW, Miss Jackie gives the best hugs in the world. You just kinda get lost in her loving arms, that just enfold you. I missed her hugs. :o)

Young Creatives: Luke and Luke

My newphew Luke is going to film school this summer. He is 8 years old.

Last night, I went to a neighbor's house and we talked about a product she gave us the other day. It's a hot sauce called "Devil's Potion", Authentic West Indian sauce. (Medium)

Who makes it? Her 14 year old grandson. 14 years old and he has formed a company because he always wanted to be an entrepreneur.

Whenever you are tempted to become disheartened by the state of the US economy, I want you to think of the "Young Creatives" of today -- kids 8 and 14 years old who are creating and making things happen. The entrepreneurial gene is very strong in this country, and provided that our government creates and enforces policies that encourage small business and entrepreneurs, we will continue to be leaders in this global economy.

Things of the South...

This morning I had a meeting with the Head of Curriculum at a local college.

As I sat in the parking lot before the meeting, I wondered...

In the South, is it more important to be on time or to take that time to put on some lipstick?

I decided on the lipstick. :o)

PS. When I conferred with my appointment, she assured me I had made the right choice!

The WINGS Creed

Here it is...what you've been waiting for...

The WINGS Creed

I soar with WINGS. Let me tell you why.
I learn lots of skills that help me reach the sky.

I love and accept who I am on the inside
and know my emotions are nothing to hide

Life’s full of surprises that make me feel different ways.
If I can control myself, I will have much better days.

I understand the choices I make should be what’s best for me to do,
and what happens is on me and not any of you.

I understand others are unique. I want to learn more about everyone I meet.
I want to step into their shoes and see what they are going through.

I am a friend. I support and trust. Working together is a must.

Kind and caring I will be. I listen to you. You listen to me.

I soar with WINGS. I just told you why.
All of these things are why I fly high.

I Soared...

The other day, I had the most amazing experience. I attended a kind of after-school program for…not just “at risk” kids, but for the most “disadvantaged” kids -- kids who had the lowest grades, the worst behavior problems in one of the poorest schools in Charleston, SC. It’s not just another “after school” program: the purpose of this program is to teach social and emotional intelligence skills to these children.

The program is called WINGS for Kids and is the brainchild of a very creative woman named Ginny Deerin. Last Wednesday she took me to see one of her WINGS programs, up front and personal. (See www.wingsforkids.org)

Here’s what happened: we arrived at the school and were treated like very special guests. One of the leaders, Brendon, came over and gave us a HUGE hug. I felt more than physically embraced. Two “ambassadors” from the program came to welcome us as special guests. When I asked them how they happened to be chosen ambassadors, one said: “Because they trust us.”

There are about 150 kids in the program, ranging from kindergarteners to fifth graders. (I don’t really know what to call them because children makes them sound too young and participants too impersonal.) The program is every day from 2:30 – 5:30 in the afternoon, and every kid gets a hot meal at the end of the day.

The children, the kids, are organized into groups of about 10, called “nests”, each of which is headed by a “wing leader.” These wing leaders are college students who have committed to participating in the program. There is a very specific design to the program, including a snacktime “meet and greet” where the kids get to talk and dance in their respective groups and express the pent up energy of being in school all day. Then, there is a community segment where everyone comes together to do a learning activity. There are elective segments where the kids can choose how and where to spend their time.

I loved it.

That week the learning segment was about dealing with “conflict.” The program director asked the room full of kids whether they could tell her what was important when handling conflict. Lots of hands went up with the “oooooh, oooooooh, call on me” enthusiasm. When asked, one kid said: “You’re not supposed to yell at people.” Another replied: “Everyone has to give a little.” It was pretty impressive and so exciting to feel the positive energy in the room.

At the end of the segment, and before going to their community service work outside, everyone said The WINGS Creed. You’ll have to come back tomorrow to read the creed, but if I were you, I wouldn’t miss it. You might want to adapt it as your own daily creed.

Finally, before I go, I want to give a special shout out to the Wings leaders. The program wouldn’t be successful without them. They were patient, but firm, acting as positive role models for the kids. I was impressed with their dedication. Remember Brendon? He was going to be a computer specialist, but as a result of his experience with WINGS, he has decided to become a teacher and work with kids.

Years ago, a Wings leader was on track to become a law student. During his experience with WINGS, he also decided to change his major to education and this year, he became the principal of the very same school where he had participated in the WINGS program.

So, is WINGS effective? It is changing lives. More tomorrow…

Kayaking and A Pistol

FLASHBACK: Sometimes I will have written a post, but not entered it on the blog. Since we are on the gun theme, I thought I would include this one...


The moon is full, which means the tide is high and that translates into terrific kayaking through the marsh grasses out back. 12 noon is high tide so I went to the back room to change into my kayaking gear, only to come out to find Landon…packing a pistol. Toto, I’m not in Kansas anymore…apparently I’m not in New York either. Why take a pistol to kayak? Because of the possibilities of alligators, of course.

Landon explained it this way: “I take the pistol so that when we see an alligator, I shoot you. That way the alligator has something to eat.” Very funny, that Southern humor.

What are the chances of seeing an alligator? Well…half-way into the trip, guess what we see? That’s right, an alligator about 50 feet away. Landon dismissed the danger with a “Oh, he’s just a small one. About 6 feet.” To which I replied, “Sweetie, please take out your gun.” Not only did he pull it out of its holster, he cocked the trigger! Maybe I can learn to like guns after all. We didn’t have to shoot, but when we came back his way, we did see his back glistening right under the water and his eyes poked up. I paddled faster. Pretty exciting day for a city girl like me…

The Glock is My Best Friend

Today it happened...

I held a pistol for the first time.

My husband and I wanted to take a walk and you know that situation with the "wild dogs" next to us so we needed to arm ourselves, to protect ourselves.

Funny how guns can seem to be so strange and I still have judgments about people who have them until I realize how important they can be in giving me a sense of security in this wild land called "the country."

Who knows? Maybe I'll actually learn how to shoot one some day. More experiences like the "wild dogs" and I'll learn pretty quickly!

Wild Dogs

OK, first I had to get used to the alligators down here. Then it was the snakes (rattlesnakes, copperheads). And, now it's...wild dogs?!

Tonight I got home from my trip up north. My husband hadn't come home yet and I was unpacking some things, thinking of taking the dogs for a walk in the field, when I received a call from a neighbor.

"Oh, you're home!, she exclaimed, "I thought I heard a car." And, then she proceeded to tell me that I couldn't go out for a walk because there had been an attack of wild dogs, feral dogs who apparently were living in the woods next to our house. They had killed a deer there. And then...

On Wednesday of last week, two ladies on horseback were crossing the field near our house when suddenly a pack of dogs came running out of the woods and started attacking the horses. Can you imagine? These dogs were between 35 - 50 pounds, attacking horses that weigh 1,100 lbs. Now, that's aggressive!

My other neighbor, John, was driving down the road and saw it all happen before his eyes. He told me he was happy that he happened to have a rifle in the back seat of his car. (That's one of the things that I still can't get used to -- everyone seems to have, and to carry, a gun with them. Bizarre to a city girl when seeing a gun usually meant your life was in danger. Now my life is endangered when I don't have a gun. People use them to shoot the alligators, the snakes and other threatening creatures...)

Back to the attack: John told me that when he arrived at the scene, the dogs were attacking the horses and the ladies were trying to dismount because they were worried that their horses would spook and then buck them off. John didn't want to shoot because he was concerned that the shot would spook the horses. At that point, a member of the hunt department showed up and with all of this commotion, the dogs ran back into the woods. The guy from the hunt department tried to chase them down. He caught up with them in the woods, but his gun didn't work and they started attacking him so that he had to use the butt of his gun to fend them off while he ran back to the truck to get another rifle. Apparently he was able to shoot one of the dogs. There were 6, now there are 5. Part pitbull.

We have been warned NOT to take a walk, not to travel alone. Everyone I know who likes to walk their dogs has been "packing heat," carrying pistols and shotguns and rifles. We are well armed here.

I don't know which alarms me more -- the fact that there are a pack of wild dogs living in the woods next door to my house or that all of my neighbors walk around heavily armed, and think nothing of it! I'm still getting used to this culture...slowly...

The Darien Boat Club

We had the moving company come today to give my parents an estimate on what it would cost to move their things to Chicago.

I know that I should be feeling really emotional about the breaking up of our home, about losing a footprint in coastal Connecticut, which has always been home to me, about the passage of a chapter in my life. But, right now, I don't.
I don't have time. There is too much to do.

This week we have accomplished a lot. We got my dad back on his feet and into some personal training, or physical therapy, where he can work on building strength and gaining more flexibility. That was Tuesday.

Wednesday I measured out the size of the rooms in their new home and put string markings on the floor so that mom, dad and I could create furniture arrangements for the rooms in my parent's new home. I moved a lot of furniture. It was so much fun to see what pieces they can take with them and how it will look. We even took pictures. It just felt good to make decisions about what pieces to take and which ones to leave behind.

Thursday we had an Estate Sale Specialist come to the house, someone who has a great reputation in the area. I walked her through the house, showing her furniture, art and collectibles. She is interested in having a sale to help us dispose of our things. Boy, that would be great if she could.

Friday we needed to get out of the house because the buyers needed to bring in a building inspector into the house. So, we all went down to the local beach.

And, that's when it hit me. It happened as I walked from the car to the Boat Club. I stood on the pavement, looking at the boat slips below, remembering how much fun it was to have a boat when I was little, how much I enjoyed having a boat and how disappointed I was when my father decided to sell ours and not replace it. All of the joys and disappointments and hopes and celebrations and family moments were captured in that moment at the Boat Club. My childhood. Our family. My relationship to my family. Growing up in Darien, with all that that meant. We were closing a chapter -- the best of times, the worst of times, mostly good times. My eyes welled up and I walked on. Keep moving forward, I told myself, and don't look back.

New York State of Mind

I'm flying up to New York to spend Easter with my parents -- and to help them with their upcoming move.

As we fly over the city, I feel a familiar sense, not quite like I'm coming home, but that everything feels familiar; the houses in Queens, the city in the distance, the web of street lights below. It was comforting, and at the same time, I realized it's not my life any more. I wondered, "If I were still living here, what would I do this evening?" I couldn't really imagine what I would do -- and that's when I knew that my life has changed and my center had really shifted.

It's a strange feeling, really. When I'm in South Carolina, I feel that I'm home because that's where my heart is, that's where my love is, and still, the environment feels very strange to me. All around me, the air, the smells, the strange creatures, all of it feels so unfamiliar and I feel discombobulated when I feel at home in a place that feels so alien to me.

I'm home, but it's not home. Do you know what I mean?

The View

Here's the view as I was driving home from the Ride 'N Dine tonight.

They Scooped Our Poop

Yes, that's right.

Today the septic tank cleaners came to our home to pump the poo. Now, how's that for alliteration?

Why am I telling you this? Because I wanted to write a blog post with that headline. Because I wanted you to know that I appreciate potty humor. Because I can be puerile...and after all, Everyone Poops! Oh yeah, that book has already been written...

OK, no more poop posts! At least for now...

Yesterday's Post...

Ooooops. I goofed. I wasn't referring to a "crap" pot. It was really a "crab" pot.

Here's the crap pot. Sorry for the potty humor. I couldn't resist.


How do you like the black toilet against the cayenne colored walls? More on painting later...

Scenery from the Lowcountry

The was the view I saw when we were coming back from the crap pot experience. Isn't it beautiful?

Going Crabbing...

Well, what fun! One of the most hilarious parts of my new life is that quite often we go out to catch our dinner...flounder, redfish...and now crabs.

We put the crab pot out last night and promised to return in 24 hours to see what happened.

Not much actually. Here's what we got. A really little crab. Oh well, that's OK because even though it was too small to keep, I still thought it was fun. And, now I know how to catch crabs.

What a life we have. We catch our dinner and we can pick the vegatables too. I like the simple life. The simple, healthy outdoors life suits me. What about you?

Action Jacksonette

I am becoming an Action Jackson-ette. That's what we call my husband -- Action Jackson -- because he's always on the go, doing something exciting.



Yesterday we went flying -- here's a plane that took off while we were waiting outside the main office.

We flew over our property we call Hoota Woods to see how it looked from the air. Everything looked great; - the pond, the hardwood bottom, the shed, the work camper, the newly planted fruit orchard, even the prepared planting beds looked great from the air.

And, then, as we were leaving, we noticed something tragic. The pine forest next to our property is getting cut, clear cut. What a shame. It's a beautiful pine stand -- couldn't they at least just think about doing a 3rd row cut to thin? It made me feel sick to my stomach (or was that feeling from the turns we were doing in the air?!)

Then we drove to Hoota Woods to meet Linda and to do some work. And, I mean work! Linda and I hoed 9 large beds and two long beds. Man, was that tiring work, but gratifying. This city girl is rapidly becoming countrified!

We all went to the fruit orchard, checked the 90 trees, some flowering, others putting out some fruit, and still others with no sign of life externally, except that by the firmness of their branches, we know they are still alive. We placed orange flags by every tree so that when the tractor comes in to plough under the weeds, he won't take the trees with him. Some of the trees are just 8 inches high.

On to Jinna's florist where we bought trees and shrubs and other things. A man carefully takes cuttings from his trees and repots them and nurtures them. You can buy beautiful azaleas for next to nothing. I bought hydrangeas, and Linda bought azaleas and a banana tree.

Then we went to Linda's house where she had planted many shrubs and trees and inspected her greenhouse. No doubt Linda has a green thumb.

Finally, our day began to come to a close when we were invited to the "Skinning Shed," a local, informal hangout run by her husband. It's a collection of buildings where his dad used to have a hog farm. They have two ponds, one stocked exclusively with catfish, and the other with bass and bream.

We ended the night by sitting by the fire in our Carolina room and watching the sun set over the marsh. It was a perfect day in the country...

The New Leslie

I am no longer Leslie J. Evans.

I am now Leslie Evans Thorne. My new social security card came in the mail today. It’s official.

It is a strange thing to change your identity. Sure, you can say that it is simply a name change and nothing more, but that’s not how it seems to me.

The Leslie J. Evans of yesterday doesn’t exist any more. She has been replaced by Leslie Evans Thorne.

I liked the Leslie J. Evans. She was fun and she liked to have fun. She would swing dance and figure skate and go to hear classical music and swim at Bally’s gym and network and meet people and walk in the park and give church services and hang out with her friends and go to Connecticut to see her parents. She was independent, single, a career woman. Well, not really a career woman, not in the sense that she sacrificed her life for her work because she sees her “work” as an opportunity to express who she is in the world and in that sense, “work” is “play.” And, since she loves to play, she loved to work.

Who is the new Leslie Evans Thorne? I don’t know yet. She’s married to Landon, which is a dream come true, and she’s living in South Carolina in a beautiful home with lots of love and support, for all of which she is grateful. But, she knows that she is in a chryallis state, a state of becoming. What will she become? Who will she be? Time will tell…

Will she become a horseback rider? Will she become a media star with an Internet TV show? Will she ever finish her two books? Will she become a farmer? Will she become a cook? Will she fall in love with the Lowcountry and not want to leave? Who will she be inside? Will she be loving and generous and grateful and full of grace? Or could she become bitter, unhappy, sad?

The exciting thing is that if she stays fully aware and is conscious about the choices she makes in her life, she can create the Leslie Evans Thorne of her choosing and help her to become the woman she always wanted, and knew that she could, be. Fat or thin, blond or brunette, these things don’t really matter. What matters is that she is able to grow into the woman she aspires to be. And, that is her personal definition of success.

Professionally Speaking...

Do you know what I do professionally?

When I am feeling inspired, I call myself a "Human Potentialist", someone who helps people to believe in themselves, in their potential, and to find work that allows them to express who they are in the world -- for a return. For money. Other times, I call myself a "Reinventionist" because I help people to reinvent who they are in the world and how they contribute work. I've even been called a "Corporate Deprogrammer" because I've helped a lot of my clients out of traditional corporate jobs into more entrepreneurial ventures.

My core philosophy is the unifying principle that underlies all of my work. Here's what I tell my clients: I believe that in today's world, your "job" is to figure out your God-given talents, to use those talents to make a contribution to the world, in alignment with your purpose, which will give you a sense of meaning and fulfillment. And, that's how you make money.

Some people call me a career coach, others an executive coach, and my clients, a life coach. I've never liked monikers or labels. What I do is to help people figure out who they are and how they want to express that in the world, for a return. For money.

I'm not just a career coach because I have my clients think about work in the context of their lives. Far beyond a job, I help my clients design lives they want to live, of which work is just one component.

I love working with executives, to help them think about how to leverage themselves, -- their strengths, talents and abilities, to make a larger contribution to their company, to the business. Sometimes I even help my executive clients to reinvent their businesses.

I would never call myself a life coach because, well, while I do love to help my clients think about their lives, my focus is helping them to figure out how they want to "work". There is a focus on "work." (To me, "work is play" especially when you are just exercising your gifts, but more about that later.)

So,now that you know a little bit more about me and what I do...what would you call me? What do I do? Please leave your comments for me...

Miss Flo's Daughter Got Married...

What a thrill...

Miss Flo's daughter got married today. What a happy day...I remember the day, over a year ago, when Miss Flo got the news that her daughter's husband was killed by a drunk driver while riding on his motorcycle. It was a tragedy. And, today, that pain is replaced with joy by knowing that she is getting married again.

We went to the wedding in Hardeeville, SC at the Greater Pentecostal Tabernacle -- the church was festively decorated with flowers, candles. Her father, Miss Flo's husband Jerome, walked his daughter down the aisle. Everyone looked beautiful -- and family was everywhere...sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, cousins, nephews, nieces, daughters of the bride and groom.

We went to the Agape Family Life Center for the celebration afterwards, a 22,000 square foot structure that was the fulfillment of a vision held by the pastor, a building which stands ready to offer services and classes and day care and Youth Ministry for the community. We ate yummy food -- chicken and ribs and punch and cake and talked to folks who happened to live in our hometown of Sheldon. It was a blast --

We drove home in the rain, feeling warm and fuzzy inside, feeling privileged to have witnessed something as sacred as the sacrament of marriage and the exchange of vows and the joy of finding love again. We hadn't been to a wedding since our own almost a year ago...and it reaffirmed feelings of the tender love we have for each other. Sigh... I still pinch myself sometimes...I'm so...well, I want to say lucky, but that's not the right word...I'm so blessed...

Meeting Joe

Earlier tonight, husband and I decided to support a local business -- Ray's Ribs in Yemassee, SC. Actually, the real name of the place is "Ray's Rib King" because Ray is King of the ribs.

You've never eaten "ribs" until you've eaten Ray's. They are awesome! Beyond finger-lickin' good. For this Yankee, just some of the best home-cooked food I've ever eaten. YUMMY.

Not diet food, of course, but great stuff. I had the ribs, red rice, beans and rutabaga that was so sweet, it tasted like candy. Someday I'm gonna git me some Homemade Sweet Potato Pie!

As we were eatin', I looked out the window and saw two guys in suits getting out of what looked like an SUV. Out-of-towners, I guessed. Sure enough, it was my Congressman Joe Wilson and his District Director, Butch Wallace. You never know who you are going to meet in these parts -- and where. So, after a lot of handshaking and card exchanging and ordering food and photo-taking with the Ray's Ribs ladies, they got ready to take off. Before they did, we asked that Congressman Wilson send our regards to our "friend" in Congress. Wink, wink.

Apologies to My Readers

Geez, I'm really falling down on my regular writing -- don't you worry, I've accumulated quite a numer of posts to share with you -- posts about readjusting, getting ready for spring, teaching seminars, redecorating, elder care -- all sorts of stuff. This weekend I'll write them up and start posting -- one a day.

Stay tuned...and thanks for coming back!

Happiness Is...

In the morning, my husband and I take time to appreciate each other.

This morning he said to me: "My job is to make you happy. No, that's not it. My job is to create an enironment where you can find your own happiness."

That's an enormous distinction that has taken me years to figure out. I have lived my life, wanting others to be happy, doing for them, trying, expending energy to make them happy. To no avail. And, to my detriment.

What I've learned is...you can't make any one happy. They have to choose it for themselves. Easy to say, hard to do sometimes. The most important thing is to understand that not only is it impossible to make someone else happy, but it is not your responsibility either. They must choose for themselves.

It's very hard to sit and watch somone else close to you actually choose to be unhappy. I have people right now, not my husband, who are choosing, unconsciously or otherwise, to be unhappy, feeling victimized. It has caused me pain. Now I see that it's the best that people like this can do and I have compassion for them. In some way, it serves them to be unhappy. Whether they define themselves as the victim and enjoy the attention and perceived sympathy, which they mistake for love, or whether they like being unhappy because of the drama and attention, or whether they choose to be unhappy and complain because it keeps them from seeing possibilities and living life fully, staying in their confined comfort zone which makes them feel safe, or finally, whether they feel unloveable, unworthy of love, and believe that unhappiness is their destiny, I have no idea. So, I just stand by. And, love.

A friend wrote to me the other day and told me that she wasn't feeling well, that she had a cold, that her father had been staying with her, and that it made her sad that all he did was talk about how badly he felt. Here's what I wrote to her: "Here's my guess about your dad. He's feeling lonely and wants to be loved. The best way he can find to feel that love is to make people feel sorry for him because he doesn't feel well. so he chooses to complain about how he feels to engender the feelings of sympathy, which he mistakes for love. Try to find a way to love him without feeling sucked into feeling guilty or sad or sympathetic, without being sucked into his pain. You can love him, on your terms, generously and unconditionally. "

All I can do is love such people, an act which which seems difficult to do sometimes. But, then I remember what my dear friend Kelly says: "Everything is either an expression of love or a cry for love." I see choosing to be unhappy as a desparate cry out for love. So, I just love. Really love. Provide unconditional love, seeing them as loveable, and holding a space for them to walk into that love, whenever they are ready to accept it for themselves. Love is all around them. They just can't see it.

Do you know you are loved? I mean, really loved. Unconditionally loved? If not, you might want to watch this movie, called Do You Know?

Click here to watch: http://www.bettertobless.com/movie3.html

Getting Buzzed

This is a picture of two F-18s flying overhead.

We live near the Marine Air Force base. So near in fact, that some of the missions require the Marine Air pilots to fly right over our house. And, they fly low. Really low. So low that the house shakes under the supersonic sound waves.

My husband tells me that when the planes are flying a mission over our house that they are practicing taking off from the short runway and that they are doing this to prepare for a deployment overseas. He should know. He's a retired Marine.

When these F-18s fly over, our house shakes and rattles and even though I have my door to the outside closed, I have to stop talking on the phone because people on the other end of the line can't hear me. All they hear is the sound of the plane. It's fearsome.

Mary tells me that folks down here say: "Listen to the sounds of freedom." To me, they sound more like the sounds of war.

Blog Review

Last week, a girlfriend sent me an email, which said:

“So, I took a look at your website! I love the blog entries - if someone didn't know you, they might find it all self-indulgent, but I find it quite interesting, amusing, thought-provoking!”

Over the weekend, I went to an oyster roast where I saw a neighbor who told me: “I have been reading your blog. I get to know you much better than I do by talking to you at dinner parties.”

Just today, I was talking to another friend in our community who said to me:

“Why do you write your blog? It’s very interesting. I know more about you than I do my best friend.”

So, why do I write this blog? There are many reasons…

This life transition is a HUGE one for me – from single to married, North to South, urban to rural, everything is different. As I may have written before, when I came down to the Lowcountry to be with my husband, I decided to be happy. Yep, I just decided to be happy. I believe that you can choose to focus on the good in your life, from the way the sunlight shines through the trees to the kindness of new friends to the excitement of learning about a new place and its experiences. Or, you can decide to be unhappy and focus on all the things from your old experience you are lacking in your new one (like Starbucks’ lattes and the home delivery of the New York Times).

Having said that, I knew that despite this decision to be happy, it would be challenging sometimes because the life shift is so big, and it is occurring on so many levels – mental, emotional, spiritual and professional.

I wanted to chronicle that shift, to capture the newness of it all, to shine a Yankee light on the Southern ways in order to give a fresh perspective to people of the Lowcountry who are so familiar with this way of life down here that they might not see certain things, in the same way that tourists used to give me fresh eyes to see New York, and to give Yankees a view into the Southern lifestyle which, in their eyes, is like the movie Deliverance. I wanted to describe the hilarity of my new life -- , especially when you compare that life to my life in the city. (BTW, my husband is especially hilarious. More on this in another email…I’ll be showcasing his hilarity!)

Finally, I know I’ll learn and grow and transform in the process and I would like to share that process with my readers. I have accepted that my new life will probably be a ride, and that there will be scary as well as exhilarating moments. Come and join this ride with me. It will take us places, I know.

My Little Secret

Don't tell anybody this, but...

I love to eat at Chick-Fil-A! It's one of my favorite places to eat. I've had lunch there twice this week.

Yum....

PS. It's one of the few places that serves "grilled" chicken, as opposed to "fried"...

Clearing Clutter Stuff

Last weekend, my husband went to North Carolina to attend a business meeting and to ski. Our house is about a 6 hour drive.

I had a decision to make. To join my husband or to stay here in South Carolina where I could continue my nesting process -- unpacking boxes from my apartment in New York, rearranging furniture in the house and creating that sense of home for us. (Here's my office, where I've been sorting through boxes and papers! Can't believe I'm showing you this!) It seems like just as I'm about to get into a rhythm here in the Lowcountry I launch off somewhere else-- to New York or elsewhere. This feels disruptive to my settling in and establishing rhythms.

As a newlywed, I don't like being away from my husband. After all, it took me a half a lifetime to find him. And, we have so much fun together -- on an hourly basis -- that I miss the laughter and lightness when he's not here. I also LOVE to snowski, and I knew the weather reports were for about a foot of snow in the North Carolina mountains. It's so romantic to be in our NC house with the fireplace blazing, the snow falling, and sitting in the overstuffed leather chairs that face the floor to ceiling windows that look out over the valley and the mountains in the distance. Ahhhhh....

That house has a special resonance for me because it was in that house that Landon and I really started falling in love as it was a rendez-vous place during our courtship, a convenient location between New York and South Carolina. But, at some level, I knew that it just felt right to stay in our South Carolina house so that I could create order in our home, especially in my office. I still had 7 boxes of papers that I brought from New York that had to be sorted and filed or tossed so that I can really start building my business from a clean platform. There was a symmetry to our decision. My husband got to spend time going through 'stuff" and recreating space in the mountains as I went through my "stuff" in the Lowcountry.

Going through stuff connects you to memories of the past -- what you did, what you didn't do, the decisions you made. the things that were important to you. I went through pictures, laughed when I saw the big hair and shoulder pads of the 80's and smiled when I went through all of the family shots. I kept a lot of those. Going through stuff inspires you to consider the things you saved, to think of the reasons behind why you held onto something, and sometimes to realize that you have outgrown the need to save something that used to be precious but now is not.

Going through stuff helps you to get perspective on life's journey. It gives you a snapshot of your past -- in the context of the present. It gives you a sense of how you have grown and changed and evolved and transformed.

Going through papers led to mixed emotions. There were the half-written articles, the unfinished books, the coaching program I had planned to do but didn't. Lot's of unfinished work. Why, I wondered? I was filled with a sense of regret that I didn't bring more things to completion, but then was reminded by how much I did accomplish -- the consulting project with the British Film Association, the long-term coaching of a CEO, my first telesummit event. I finished all of those projects. And, then I realized that the only unfinished projects that I had were the ones where I was exercising my creativity, sharing my insights and theories about the workplace. Was I afraid to put them out in public for the world to see? I'm looking forward to bringing them into being now. Because now is the time.

That clearing process was cathartic. It brought me in touch with where I have invested my energy in the last 10 years, where I diverted energy, and where I would like to place my energy going forward. Now I can make a decision to bring some of these creative projects forward, if I want to and if it seems right. I'll finish some of those articles and maybe complete a book or two.

Making decisions about what to keep and what to toss is empowering because you get to choose what is important, what to clear away and that process of conscious elimination brings clarity. You get to decide what is important in your life. You get to decide what you need to move you forward. You get to decide what to strip away that is holding you back. You get to streamline and bring into focus all of those things that will impel you forward. You get to decide.

And, that is empowering.