Thoughts From A Northerner

I come from a place that doesn't understand the South. Here's a message I just received on Facebook, from a friend I used to have in college. Read on...

"SC?! Good grief. I hope you love him! Is this your second try? I'm looking for a second try now. What are you dong down there? Who can you talk with? My brother is in progressive Asheville, NC, and he can't stand much of the southern bits that penetrate into his life."

Just some Yankee abolitionist thoughts for the day...

To NYC

I'm sitting on a plane going from Charleston SC to NYC. Of course, I've made this trip many times before during my courting stage with Landon, during the planning of our wedding and after our wedding, back and forth, forth and back, from my old life to my new one and back. This time it's different. for the first time, I feel like I'm leaving my "life" to visit a moment in time that has passed.

My friends are a constant, a bridge between the two worlds. I can't wait to see Sarah, Dwight, Susan, Gina, Shanahan (you know a good friend when you are on a last name basis) and Evie and Lisa and Jon. I'm trying to make time to see each of them.

Sarah wants me to go out late with her tonight to hear her favorite band, the Loan Sharks, who are playing in the Bronx at 11pm. Now, I love to dance, but this just doesn't sound fun any more. Well, I take that back. It sounds really fun, but also really late and complicated and...cold for this time of year.

Now I like to get up early in the morning, before 6, so that I can work and pray and listen to my inner wisdom and get grounded before the day come crashing in around me, when the phone starts ringing and the activity starts. I like to get up early enough so that I can watch the sun rise over the marsh and write creative thoughts and feel the peace of the day.

My world has shifted, and I have shifted with it.

Inner and Outer Worlds

As I reflect on my life, I realize that many of my postings are about the external changes in my world – moving from “The City” the country, single to partner, new activities, new pastimes, new friends. The most significant changes are actually the ones happening in my inner world – how I am adapting to my new life – the emotional challenge of leaving what is familiar, what is comfortable for something totally new, the challenge of letting go.

When I made a decision to leave my old life in New York City to embrace my new life in the Lowcountry, I knew one thing. I knew that I needed to move forward and create a new life. I knew that if I tried to hold on to the old life while moving into the new, the transition would be slow and difficult. I also knew that if I compared my new life to my old one I would be unhappy because there are a lot of things I would no longer have. Of course, there are many new and exciting things I'm experiencing in my new one.

I also knew that I could simply decide to be happy. I could choose to be happy and to focus on all the good things I have in my new life. Or, I could decide to be miserable and focus on all the things I no longer have in my life. (like a coffee shop around the corner!) I choose to appreciate the good at hand, and guess what? It's working...I am happy...blissfully happy.

I'm All Geared Up...

But, it’s not what you think.

Not I’m all geared up as I’m excited, but I have gear to do more activities that I could have conceived of. I’ve got horsebackriding year, skiing gear, motorcycle gear, deer hunting gear, kayaking gear, shrimping gear, oyster eating gear, and now fly fishing gear.

Be prepared, always prepared is the "Scouts" motto. Well, thanks to my husband, I'm ready...for anything. Being married to Landon is like being with my favorite camp counselor. There's always another activity around the corner! So much fun...

Professional Woman's Group

One of the woman here at Bray's invited me to attend a professional woman's group in Charleston. I was thrilled! It was so much fun. I love being in a room filled with women -- women from right out of college to 82 years old, of all races and from all around the country.

More later, but I'm very excited about the chance to be part of a group of women in this part of the country!

Talking Like Y'All

I actually said it.

Y'all.

When we were skiing in North Carolina, a man was sitting next to me on the chairlift, talking friendly-like, and so, where there was a pause in the conversation, I turned to him and said...

"So...where Y'ALL from?" along with my best Southern drawl I could muster.

"Greeeeeeenville," he answered.

There we are. This is a big milestone for me. My first unintentional y'all. I've become Southern.

Riding Atticus

Today I took my horseback riding lesson with the ladies from North Carolina. I rode Atticus. My teacher's name was Michael, a funny name for a woman, I thought.

She was a great teacher.

The first thing we did was to make sure that the saddle fit the horse properly. She determined that it was riding on the horse's shoulders and so we fit a white cushioned pad in between the saddle and the horse's skin. Then we lengthened the stirrups for me so that my legs fell around the horse's girth and not so that I was perched on top with my legs bent. It felt funny. While I liked having more of me in contact with the horse, I felt less secure than I did with my legs pressing against the top of the horse's back.

So, onto the lesson...I learned so many things. I learned that I could hold the reins more comfortably, widened my grip so that it was easier to pull on the reins to communicate with Atticus. I learned that in order to signal to Atticus that I wanted to turn right I could push down slightly in the right stirrup, give it more weight, so that he would know that I wanted to turn to the right, and not have to rely so much on pulling the reins.

With horses, it's all about communication and about building trust. Horses are pack animals and live in constant fear that they are prey. The horse wants to be led, but needs to know that he can trust you, and if you are going to be perched on top of a horse that weighs 1,200 lbs, you need to know that you can trust him. So, it's all about mutual trust and communication -- and two-way communication. I am learning that there is a difference between having the horse want to follow you and imposing yourself on the horse. That's what my instructor Jim tells me, and I understand the concept, even if I am still learning how to translate it into action.

As my friend Barbara tells me, riding horses is about staying present. You have to stay completely in the moment. Riding is about finding that exquisite attunement between the rider and the horse, finding that balance between reading the horse and communicating your own needs so that you are reading and responding to each other in one fluid motion within an environment of trust. Horses are intuitive. They can read people. The challenge for the rider is to be able to read the horse.

Phones in the Country

We have a really cool phone number.

It ends in "0000."

Yesterday, our line was cut off and when our friends tried to call, they reached a cement company instead.

We've had this phone number for 12 years. Now what kind of stuff is that? I've heard of phone company mistakes, but this is ridiculous!

Anniversaries

Today is my parent's 54th anniversary.

Wow. That's a long time. What does it mean to be married for those years?

I hope they are having a happy day!

The Inauguration

Well, I'm sitting in a hotel room in Atlanta, watching the Inauguration of Barack Obama. My husband is at meetings nearby and I told him that I would be happy to accompany him as long as I could sit in front of a TV all day so that I could watch. And, watch I did. From 1o am to 10 pm.

Read my posting on Beyond The Stuff at http://www.beyondthestuff.com/ to see my reaction to the day -- and feel free to comment.

I remember when I attended the first Inauguration of Ronald Reagan. It was 1981, I was an intern for a Republican Congressman, and inaugurations back then were different from today. I was given a pass to stand really close to the podium and could see the swearing in perfectly. The only other thing I remember was how cold it was and the fact I was on crutches. Oh yeah, I also remember going to the Youth Ball and seeing what smooth dancers Ronnie and Nancy Reagan were, particularly as compared to Barbara and George Bush Sr.

Think of how much has happened since then. Ronald Reagan danced through two terms. By the second term I was working for a prominent Republican Senator. I had been given great tickets to the Second Reagan inaugural -- tickets which I was able to share with my parents and sister, which was great -- but unfortunately, it was so cold that they cancelled the outside event, moving it inside and so we watched together on the TV in the Senator's office.

Then we had one term of George Sr, followed by Bill Clinton. At that point, I was a Republican, voting Democratic. By the time Al Gore and W. came up to bat, I was a registered Independent, having made a conscious choice to leave the Republican party when the Republican-led Congress tried to impeach President Clinton. I couldn't quite bring myself to become a Democrat. That was 2000. By 2004, I had had enough. I was ready to fight for my country. Not by enlisting, but by doing everything I could to support the candidate of my choice.

I can remember the first time I heard him speak..."What I want to know...what I want to know...what I want to know is what are so many Democrats doing giving the President unilateral authority to invade Iraq...." It was the first time I heard someone publically disagree with the President. Out loud. In public. I was blown away. Someone actually said -- in a public forum -- what I had been thinking privately. Wow. Before that, no media outlet or prominent politician dared to challenge the President. But, this candidate did. He was smart and unafraid, or as one of his young supporters put it: "He had 'brains and balls.'"

And, so, I became a registered Democrat so that I could support him and vote for him in the primary. I gave money, I attended meetings, I wore a tight t-shirt and stood at the Staten Island ferry so that I could hand out fliers to commuters coming off the boat, flyers which invited them to a rally in Bryant Park. (10,000 people showed up!) I flew to Iowa, by myself, at my expense, and for 5 days, in subzero weather, knocked on doors, made phone calls, canvassed, cajoled, and slept in rooms with strangers. Finally, I monitored a caucus in a middle school for the campaign.

He didn't win. But, it didn't matter. The movement he started culminated in the landslide election of Barack Obama. Only his supporters know how much of what he did -- his pioneering of Internet fundraising, his appeal to the youth vote and efforts to get them registered. Even his campaign slogans were echoed in Obama's campaign. "Yes, we can."

Howard Dean will always be remembered for his "scream." I will always remember him for his "dream." Let's Take This Country Back. Which is exactly what we have done.

Proactive Waving

I’m getting the hang of this waving the hand at strangers thing. I call it the “proactive wave.”

One of the strangest, most inscrutable customs down here in the South is having to wave at everyone that drives by – whether you know them or not.

It drives me crazy.

I may sound crazy to you for saying that, but remember, I come from a town where it is practically a criminal offense to look someone in the eye, let alone hoisting up a body part as an acknowledgement of someone else’s existence.

Why should I have to wave at someone I know? Why should I wave at someone I don’t know? What if I don’t feel like waving? Maybe I’m just in a bad mood. Or maybe I’m praying as I walk down the street. Maybe I’m composing the Great American Novel in my head. Maybe I’m appreciating the beautiful scenery around me. Or maybe I just want to be in my own world of quiet reverie. A New Yorker, I am used to creating a protective cone of indifference around me. It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s that I need and want my protective space.

Why is it considered rude if I don’t wave? There are a million reasons I might not wave at you, and the least of which is that I want to send you a signal that I don’t like you. That would take way too much effort.

It doesn’t mean I’m ignoring you. How can I miss a pick up truck barreling down the road towards me? Or a Lexus SUV? Or a van? I SEE you.

And, another thing. Just a question for folks out there: do people really mean well when they pick up their hand to wave, or is it a developed habit devoid of meaning? I mean, are they really wishing me well or are they thinking “I wish she were dead” while waving and smiling and being “friendly like."

I have a lot to learn down here.

So, in order to deal with all of this friendly hand signaling, I have adopted a new behavior. If I even hear the sound of an engine behind me, I just instinctively raise up my hand and start shaking it back and forth. It feels good. They think I’m waving. They think I’m friendly.

Skiing in North Carolina

Landon and I came up to the mountains to get away and to take advantage of the wonderful low temperatures and snow.

Here is a picture of us on the chairlift.

We had so much fun, even though it was a holiday weekend. Check out the slopes!

Rhythms of My Life

I long to feel the rhythms of my life…

I need to stay in one place, to establish the rhythms, to bring my life in harmony with the rhythm of life around me, to bring me a sense of peace.

This year alone, we have had children coming and going…
We have gone to Charleston to withdraw ourselves, to proactively create the rhythms of our lives, only to come home and have to prepare for an offsite, of three days of guests, followed by a day of intense productivity, two days of being down for the count, a day of recreational recovery, followed by a day of driving to the mountains.

The activity is too much. I long to feel the rhythm of my new life.

The rhythms of my new life in South Carolina are gentle and slow and natural and beautiful. I wake up before the sunrise, pray and write and prepare before the day arrives, when the ladies of the household arrive and I make breakfast for my husband and visit with the dogs before I begin my day up in my office.

It’s all so new. I am responsible for running the household, for maintaining the outside, for cooking, for entertaining.. I don’t mind because I love caring for, nurturing, my new husband in our new sense of home. The other night, around 9:00, I was sitting in the leather chair, with my husband curled up on the sofa and our dog Blaze at his feet and I felt completely content. Blissfully content.

I also feel the stress of having to reinvent a new business in South Carolina, excitement and stress, because I know I can do it, but there is so much to do.

I also want to venture out socially, meet new friends, follow up on people’s overtures to me, have dinner parties. But, there is never the time.

Church is important to me – and I would love to create a new sense of church here in the Lowcountry, but I’m away for half of the Sundays.

So, here I am in the mountains of North Carolina, where it is beautiful and clear and cold, and I realize. I need to stay in one place and focus and feel the rhythm of my new life. I am still in a state of transition, a fragile chrysalis state of moving from my former state of Miss Leslie, career girl in New York City, dancer and skater, helping daughter to Linda and George, to Mrs. Thorne, wife of Landon, step-mom to David, Landon, Bo and Chas, keeper of the household, social secretary to the Thornes, business colleague of the Beyond The Stuff gals, and lady of the Low Country. I will cherish and give myself the space to feel my way through this transition and embrace every moment of the journey. That will be my gift to myself. To honor my rhythms. To be in the flow. Every day.

It's an Off-Site

My husband is hosting another off-site at our home for his medical supply company. Everyone came in on Friday and Saturday was the day.

So, in the afternoon, I took a walk with Chris, Sara's "friend" that she brought with her. We had a great time. I love showing folks around where we live.

Look at this picture taken across one of the rice dikes. It was a sunny day, in the 70's, perfect.

Watching the Moon Set

What a wonderous place to live. This morning I awoke at 6:30 am and saw a bright light in the sky. It was the moon setting over the marsh.

Thought you'd like to see it too.

OMG -- I am the younger woman!

After we came home from Charleston, I wanted to catch up on my reading of the Sunday New York Times. I opened to the Business Section and that's when I saw it...

...the front page story and a picture of Ireland's best-known building developer, Sean Dunne and his wife. I looked at him and I looked at her and thought: "Wow. Another successful guy who marries a younger woman. How pathetic." And, that's when I realized --

I am the younger woman.

It's true. I married a man who is a number of years older than I. Well, chronologically speaking that is, because everyone who knows him, knows that he is really 10, going on __. (He did wear an M&M coat last night!) But, then again, so am I. That's why we get on so well together. :o) He'll be unhappy that I wrote this, but I believe the secret to life is to remain young at heart and wise in the spirit. That's what I meant by being 10. He's young at heart! And, wise in spirit.

And, I know that there are many people who look at me that way -- the younger woman who married the older guy. Of course, there are lots of assumptions that go along with that caricature. He's having a mid-life crisis, she's a gold-digger, he wants a trophy wife (I flatter myself!) and she wants an older, successful man, he has emotional issues, she has "Daddy-figure" issues. I know these things because that's what I've thought about others, not even consciously, but subconsciously these thoughts are triggered in my mind.

I have been critical of couples where there seems to be a large age difference. Instead of seeking to understand the relationship, I have had an almost instinctive response that something isn't quite right, that it isn't normal, that to be normal, people need to couple with others in their own age group, and on and on and on.

And, now here I am. The object of that criticism...for some. I want these people to know that have compassion for this way of thinking. I understand the desire to want to categorize me and my relationship with Landon as simply a May-December coupling, to put it into a neat box, to attach an interpretation to our outward projection, rather than to seek to find what unites us.

Because the truth is, Landon is the love of my life. Completely, absolutely. We are so perfectly matched to each other, I have to pinch myself sometimes. Our sense of commitment and unconditional love for one another is almost ethereal, other-worldly, like that of an unrequited love that spanned generations only to be blessed by finding each other in this lifetime. I cherish every moment with him and thank that Higher Power for bringing us together. "Yea", sing the angels, "they have found each other."

Some people get that. Like the kind man who sat to my right at dinner last night, who has a different heritage, who is a generation apart, yet he perceives the depth of our love for each other. Because he seeks to understand, without judgment. Would that we all could do that. To look beneath the surface exterior, the superficial packaging, to find what's within, one's thinking, values, character, essence, divine being. To take the time to find the truth.

Others don't get it. I know there are people who can't understand our marriage or who don't want to. Actually, many of them can't see me. For some reason, it seems to be more the case with men than with women. Maybe that's because at least women have being a woman in common. I think to these guys I seem like some out-of-space alien creature, with a different worldview, from a strange planet. They avoid eye contact, they don't know what to say, they feel uncomfortable around me.

Is it because I'm attractive? Because I'm smart? Because being pretty and smart is intimidating? Because their wives would give them a difficult time at home because they were talking to the attractive "new thing" on the block? No, I don't think so. I think that they are intrinsically uncomfortable trying to find a point of connection with someone that they perceive to be so far from how they view themselves that they are unwilling to come out of their safe containers, their habitual thoughtplaces, their cerebral boxes, to entertain the possibility of seeing and experiencing something else, something outside of their comfort zone. Why? Because being confronted with a different world perspective might challenge their own assumptions and alter the safe haven of thought they live within. And, that, my friend, can be terrifying. I understand.

Being the younger woman has taught me many things, not the least of which is that chronological age means nothing. I know people my age who think like old people, stubborn, inflexible and rigid in thought, and I have friends who are considered elderly (at age 101) but who remain curious, flexible, inquisitive, playful, open-minded and fun. Where I live, people tend to be retired and older, but there are so many who are vital, active and strong that I feel they are my peers, without a trace of age, and I can't wait to share many moments of fun with them.

Remember, you are as old as you think. Literally.

Our First Crop...Organic Strawberries!

Wow. Check it out.

Our first crop has been harvested.

The strawberries from Hoota Woods are in! We have our organic strawberries...and they are delicious.

Many thanks to all who made it happen...Linda, Cody, Harry, Mary, Cindy, and all those who contributed. It's very exciting...stay tuned for our farming adventures!

PS. Landon brought the Christmas tree to the farm yesterday to dump in the pond. You should have seen him loading up the pick up truck. I am a farmer's wife. Who'd a thunk it? Life is a grand adventure...

HELP! - We are Becoming the Salt and Pepper Shakers

We are eating too much.

We are becoming the salt and pepper shakers.

When we were engaged, our neighbors and best friends, Jeff and Sara Timmons, came over to dinner with a present. (The gift makes both of us nostalgic since Jeff has since passed on...)

They had purchased a salt and pepper set, a plump man and woman, bending slightly at the waist to kiss each other. The man had gray hair because Sara cut some of Jeff's hair to glue on the top of the shaker in order to make it realistic (!!?!) -- it's hilarious! -- and the woman was blond like me. I remember saying at the time that if we started looking like the salt and pepper shakers, we were in trouble because they are so plump!! Sara and Jeff said it didn't matter as long as we loved each other.

Well, we do love each other, but...we need to get to the gym!

Up in Charleston

My husband and I just returned from spending two days in Charleston, South Carolina. It was to be a "couples off-site," a time where we could reconnect with one another, reaffirm our marriage, and make conscious decisions about how we want to plan and conduct our year together.

If you want to learn more about our "process," you can read more at my blog posting at http://www.beyondthestuff.com/. Check it out!

We stayed at The Meeting House Inn, right in middle of Charleston, at the intersection of Meeting and Market Streets, a perfect location. The staff there was extremely friendly and we loved the accommodations. It's kind of a funky place, with 56 rooms, many with balconies, and each room decorated differently. There is a little garden off the side of the Inn, creating an oasis in the middle of the city. It has a decidedly Southern coastal feel, reminding me even of places I visited in the Caribbean.

If you are around Charleston, give them a try. It's slow and they need the business. Oh yeah, and if you do decide to try it out, tell them that Landon and Leslie sent you.

It was a really important thing to do, to go away together, to just be together, away from the cares of the world before the intensity of the New Year begins. I feel much more connected to my husband and centered and clear about priorities and looking forward to the New Year.

You know, you don't have to go very far to have your own retreat. Just take a full day and night for yourself -- or yourselves -- and turn the phones and email off and walk and talk and connect and plan. It's an important part of self-care that will be even more important in a challenging economy. Do yourself a favor. Start the year off right.

Happy New Year to you!!

Venison Meatloaf Recipe

1 lb. chopped venison (or beef)
onion
1 egg
milk
seasoned bread crumbs
1 slice bread
salt and pepper to taste
beef broth

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

In mixing bowl, mix together meat, egg, splash of milk (2 or 3 Tablespoons), 1/2 chopped onion.

You will want to take all your rings off as you knead this with your hands. Crumble up a piece of bread into very small pieces and add seasoned bread crumbs. Continue to knead.

Place mixture in a baking pan and shape into loaf shape. Make sure to eliminate air pockets by patting down top and shaping sides. Cover top of meatloaf with mustard (or ketchup if you like).

Slice up onion and put in pan with beef broth.

Cook for 1 hour. Serve.

Meatloaf and Other Cooking Thoughts

Last night I made venison meatloaf for my husband.

I'm really getting a hang of this cooking thing. It's really hilarious to me. How did this New York I-only-order-in-delivery girl start cooking?

Well, first of all, I have a freezer full of meat that my husband has provided through as they say down here, "harvesting game." Translation: he has killed 4 deer this season. I also have birds and 65 pounds of shrimp. So, as you can see, I have lots of material to work with. And, I mean, how traditional can our relationship be? My husband literally "brings home the bacon" and I cook it.

The funny thing -- and one that I don't quite understand yet -- is that I really enjoy cooking for my husband. Let me be clear. I don't like to cook. But, I like cooking for my husband because it allows me to express my love to him by nurturing him through food. (He's not a picky eater, he likes what I cook, and he doesn't eat very well if he tries to cook or prepare food for himself.) I like to cook and serve him food. (He's great with dishes and clean up.)

I'm an extremely independent person -- so independent that at age 8 I wrote an essay about how I wanted to be a bacholorette like my cousin Lynn because I didn't want to have to cook for my husband. I never wanted to get locked into a role that involved chores like cooking because cooking felt like a form of enslavement.

But, now when I cook for Landon, I get this strange internal warm and fuzzy feeling inside that develops deep inside of me when I'm standing over the stove stirring and pouring and sautee-ing. I love the feeling of knowing I can care for my husband in this primitive and primeval way. It's so strange. As I nurture him, I find like I am nurturing my own soul.

Chukar Soup

Last night I made chukar soup for my husband. For you city folk, that's a kind of bird. Sort of tastes like a chicken.

I've decided that this year I'm going to share my recipes with you. As I cook a successful dish, I'll post the recipe. That way, you can share in my cooking success, or at least endeavor.

CHUKAR SOUP -
Cooking time - 1 hour

2 boxes of Swanson's chicken broth (or chicken bouillons with water)
2 carrots
2 stalks celery
1 turnip or leek (for sweetness)
onion
rice or orzo
mace
marjoram
black pepper

Pour the soup broth in a soup pot. Peel and chop up carrots into bite-sized pieces. Do the same with celery and turnip or leek. Chop 1/2 onion into fine pieces. Pour all vegetables into soup. Season with black pepper, salt, 1/2 teaspoon mace and good pinch of marjoram. Heat to boiling.

Clean and put birds into pot and simmer on low for 1/2 hour or until meat is done. Take out birds, cut meat off bone. Put in 1/3 cup rice or orzo and let cook 15 minutes. Put meat back in pot and simmer.

Jeff Shearouse is in the house!

Well, actually, he is outside the house. He is our new landscaping person.

I love Jeff. I love him because he loves what he does. He is a Master Gardener, Arborist and Horticulturist. Oh, yes, and he is a single dad raising two girls.

I met Jeff when I was taking some guests, young teen-age girls from Namibia, daughters of the couple who owns the hunting camp where Landon hunts in Africa, for a walk around the plantation. We wanted to check out the new house that was going up so that we could short-cut over the dike. There were lots of workmen on location, putting down grass sod at this new house. The yard, the trees, all the plantings, looked great. As we were admiring the lawn and view, a man in overalls came ambling over. It was Jeff -- we got to talking and I asked him whether he would be interested in coming over to see our yard because I'd like to hear what suggestions he might have for us.

A week later, he came over and we walked our property. If you have been reading my blog, you know that I am very intent on wanting to cherish this house and grounds and turn it into a home. So much had been neglected, not the least of which was the yard.

And, our previous landscapers charged a lot for what they did and I didn't like the results. They are not bad people, but it's a company where the head gardener is spread very thin and the people working for her do not have the proper training. If you look at the picture at the top of the page, you'll see that they never trimmed the tops of our Nellie Stevens trees so that they had all these funny spikes growing out of the top -- up to 2 1/2 feet. That looked ridiculous. Compare what they look like here. You see how the tops are all trimmed up?

Check out this before and after:

Jeff and I have a vision for our yard. We are going to consciously recreate, reshape, reform, replant, tend, cherish and nurture the plants that we have and add new ones. All according to our plan.

I am very excited by the prospect of investing my love into and caring for our grounds -- and to know that they will reflect back that investment. I am excited to to see how we, Landon and I, can transform our living environment -- inside and out -- so that it reflects "us" and so that it will be embracing and inviting to all of those we choose to welcome into our space.

Finally, here is a video of Jeff at work:

DEER HUNTING SEASON...

...is over! Sigh. :o)

Last night marked the end of deer hunting season. My husband was intent on getting one more deer to stock our freezer. And, he did it! He's such a good provider, in the most primitive sense, he puts meat on the table! Now I'll have roasts and stew meat and more. So, if the economy gets really bad, at least we know that we can still eat meat.

Happy New Year !

It's the first day of 2009.

And, as I sit on the sofa, watching the Nebraska and Clemson game while my husband is sitting in a deer stand on the last night of this year's deer season, Xena and Blaze, our dogs, lying at my feet and a quail soup experiment on the stove, I realize something...

I am just surrounded by love here. I have never felt so loved. And, I'm happy.

This afternoon, I opened the French doors and went to sit on the porch, right outside our den where my husband was talking to his real estate agent in North Carolina and his Cuban buddy in Miami. It was sunny and calm -- Blaze, our pound puppy, half Rottweiler, half Burmese Mountain dog, saddled up to me, all 110 lbs of him ,and put his head on my leg like a little lap dog. I felt the warmth of the sun on my face, the rhythm of Blaze's breath on my knee, and listened to my husband's laugh from inside, and that's when it hit me. I am completely, supremely, totally happy. I am content.

Last night, I had another realization...

Landon and I went to our next door neighbor's New Year's Eve party -- I was charged with bringing a plate of hors d'oeuvres. You should have seen me walking down our dirt driveway, with no lights on, alone, under a tapestry of stars, holding a tray full of food that I prepared, wondering how I could have traveled so far from New York and my life of singledom and just incredulous at my new married life.

It was a very enjoyable evening, giving me the opportunity to have one-on-one conversations with some people here where I live on Brays Island Plantation. I'm am still the "new kid", the second wife of Landon K. Thorne, and lots of people either don't know me or don't know what to make of me. Many people who live here are fully retired, most are older than I, and some, I know, struggle with finding a way to relate to me. For some, I am the age of their children. But, for those who reach out to get to know me, we can find points of connection.

Any way, several people engaged me in conversation last night to find out, among other things, how I am adjusting to life in the Low Country, knowing that I spent 23 years in New York City and wondering how I'm dealing with this transition. I think people are genuinely concerned about my ability to adjust because the transition is so huge. So, they ask me about what activities I like to do. Some of the women like to ride horses, some, golf or tennis, others like to play bridge, and still others shoot sporting clays. And, that's when I realized...my happiness here has nothing to do with the activities I engage in. Sure, I have fun -- I ride bicycles, do yoga, swim, kayak off our backyard, ride horses, take walks, and I'm looking forward to shrimping, boating, and fishing. After all, being married to my husband is like being married to my favorite camp counselor. But, I realize that my happiness is not defined by what I do.

I'm happy because I feel so embraced and loved by everything around me. My husband loves me and shows me every day. He has created an loving environment -- everything that surrounds me speaks of love. Our dogs are so loving, Comet the wonder horse is affectionate. Members of our household, my husband's assistant, Mary, our handyman Harry, everyone provides care and support so that there is a feeling of serene harmony in our home. Even the landscape speaks to me of love. I see love everywhere -- in the soar of an eagle, in the color of a flower, in the gentle moistness of the sweet air, in the rhythm of the tides -- it's all around me. I am embraced in and by Love.

Promise to My Readers

It's the New Year -- my intention is to post to this blog every day. Please check in with me here and feel free to comment.

Hope you have a Happy New Year!