Lee Plays a Nasty Trick On Us

Friday, September 9

Don’t know what it is with these hurricanes and tropical storms named after friends of ours. Instead of quietly passing through, they’ve been staying a while and dumping on us. REALLY DUMPING on us since Wednesday. Such rude guests don’t deserve to be invited for a return visit. If possible, Lee has been worse than Irene in terms of the water it has dropped on us.

Coming home yesterday, I had one of my worst commutes ever. A drive that normally takes me 15-20 minutes, took me about 1½ hours. And that was after I bailed off the Beltway to use side roads to get home. Luckily, Mui called me just before I turned off to Prosperity to warn me that the road I would have normally taken was flooded. Otherwise, I might have been up a creek — literally.

The immediate area around the condo turned out to be fine; wasn’t expecting it to be otherwise. But I did see side roads en route that had been made impassable with standing water. And the parking lot of one apartment complex was under water — with muddy water topping the wheels of the vehicles. The images on the newscasts are not pretty at all; hard clean-up work ahead for a lot of folks.

Lee’s real impact on us is the cancellation of our plans to go to Pohick Bay this weekend. Last time we went there, it was pouring hard and the site was a muddy-mess. Not wanting to repeat that experience, we decided to postpone our trip. I think it’s the right decision! After all, this isn’t the view we want to have …

… through the windows of the Phaeton!!!

P.S. We called Phaeton’s storage place; all’s well there. There’s no water swirling about her skirts. For that we are grateful.

In the Spotlight: Before the Coasties ...

21 April

... there were the Surfmen of the US Life-Saving Service.  We learned about these valiant men and the amazing rescues they were involved in during our afternoon visit to the Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station Historic Site and Museum.

Located in Rodanthe, just over a mile from Camp Hatteras, the site was close enough to walk to, but with the potential for rain in the air, we decided to drive.  After all, who wants to be loaded down with camera equipment and be caught in a deluge?  Not us!

As it turns out, the weather held off, except for a light drizzle.  By timing our visits to the buildings carefully, we managed to scamper from one to the other without getting wet.

We were greeted warmly by the docents at the front desk of the station-turned-museum.  When Mui showed them his USAF ID, they generously gave us the group rate of $5/person ($1/person discount).  The program of the day is included in the admission price, but since they are conducted during the summer months, we made do with a video documenting the history of Chicamacomico and then moved on to a self-guided tour.

illustration of the chicamacomico historic site and museum grounds (A) 1874 Station (B) Wreck Pole (C) 1892 Cook House (D) 1907 Midgett House (E) 1911 Cook House (F) 1911 Station (G) Stable (H) Tractor Shed (I) Small Boathouse [scanned from the museum brochure]

The US Life-Saving Service (USLSS) was founded in 1871 and was managed by the US Treasury Department.  Local men were hired and trained for one primary task: to rescue those in peril from the sea.  Their mission is underscored by the surfman’s motto as stated by a station keeper:

The book says ya gotta go out; it don’t say nothin’ ‘bout coming back!

In 1915, the USLSS merged with the US Revenue Cutter Service to form today's US Coast Guard.

Historic photographs from around the museum.

Left (top to bottom): the breeches buoy was used as late as the 1954 omar babun rescue. the 1874 station with the keeper on the far left; these stations also served as community centers and it was not uncommon to find locals visiting. the wreck of the captain john duke.

right (top to Bottom): the surfboat landing with shipwreck survivors; note the cork life jackets worn by the men. Cape Hatteras was dangerous for sailing ships, yet ships sailed near to get around the cape and to use the lighthouse as a landmark for the quickest route north or south.

Built in 1874, Chicamacomico was the first USLSS station in North Carolina.  It remained in service until it was decommissioned in 1954.  The name comes from the Algonquian family of languages and means, quite appropriately, “land of disappearing sands.”  (Best pronunciation guide I can find … Chic-a-ma-COM-i-co.)

The Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station Historic Site and Museum as seen from the beach.
Left to Right: The 1911 Station; the 1874 Station; the 1892 Cook House and water tank;
the 1907 Midgett House.
[taken the next morning; hence the clear, blue sky.]

We started our tour in the 1911 Station, which replaced the smaller 1874 station.  The building, which contains the majority of the exhibits, is still on its original foundation.  Although the station was designed for no more than 10 men, over 40 were stationed here during WWII.  Having been inside, cramped would be an understatement in describing the conditions at that time.

The 1911 Station with the Cook House to the right.  the bell is not original to the site;
it was removed and brought here from the Chesapeake Bay.

Before moving on from this building, we climbed the ship’s ladder from the second floor up to the tower.  A second story was added inside the tower to ensure that both the Atlantic Ocean and Pamlico Sound could be monitored.  A surfman was on watch 24/7, rotating in 4-hour shifts.  Nothing but binoculars, a chart book, and a podium-type desk was allowed in the tower.  In other words, nothing to distract the men from charting the safe passage of vessels traveling up and down the coast, and remaining alert to ships that might be in distress.

The steep ladder leads into the tower from which we can see the 1874 Station,
the 1892 Cook House, and beach homes overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

Our second stop was at the 1907 Midgett House, which was brought to the site in 2005.  It was originally owned by the brother of Keeper John Allen Midgett Jr., one of several keepers that shared the surname.

Furnished with items appropriate to the period, the 1907 Midgett House is intended to
interpret daily life on Hatteras Island in the early 1900s.

A peek into life in the early 1900s.

Next we walked through the 1874 Station, which was converted to a boathouse in 1919.  The building has been moved five times; its original location is now under water.  Inside we found some fascinating rescue equipment, as well as Surfboat No. 1046, which was used in 1918 to rescue 42 people from the Mirlo, a British tanker that was torpedoed off shore.  (Rescue account here.)

The Gothic style 1874 Station and the wreck pole in the distance.

On the side facing the Atlantic Ocean, the 1874 station looks more like a boathouse.
In the open doorway, you can see a glimpse of Surfboat No. 1406.  Immediately to the
right is the 1892 cook house and water tank, and next to that is the 1907 Midgett house.

Left: Life Cars were used to rescue people from a wreck.
Right (Bottom): surfboat No. 1406 was used to rescue survivors from the mirlo.

(For those interested in how the life car worked [from signage at the museum]: it was hung unto the hawser [thick, heavy line] and sent to the wrecked ship.  Crew and passengers would climb into the hold, seal the hatch, and be hauled to shore by the surfmen.  Even after the breeches buoy was adopted, stations retained their life cars in the event a ship had an injured crewman or small children aboard.  Up to seven adults could fit into the life car.)

Have you heard of the breeches buoy rescue?  We had not until we visited Chicamacomico.  We were fascinated by what was described in the signage as a British-style rescue method.  The way I understand it, a Lyle gun was used to send a hawser from the shore to the wreck.  A wreck victim would then jump into the ‘breeches’, and suspended in the air, he would be pulled ashore by a pulley-block system.  Once ashore, the victim would ‘jump out of his breeches’, and the buoy would be sent back out to the ship to rescue another person.

Breeches Buoy Rescue Equipment with a photo of a mock-up showing how the rescue worked.

From the 1874 station we strolled over to the wreck pole at the far edge of the property.  The pole, which simulates the mast of a ship, was used by the station crew to hone their breeches buoy rescue skills.  They were allotted five minutes to have all their equipment in place and “rescue” a practice victim, usually a fellow surfman.  Sure, the beach cart was on wheels, but can you imagine how difficult it must have been to roll it through the sand to get it positioned before they could shoot the gun?

Collage of images showing the wreck pole and illustrations of how the breeches  buoy
setup was used in shipwreck rescues.  During the summer months, the US Coast Guard conducts
breeches buoy rescue drills at the station.  The photo in the bottom right
shows the drill team from Oregon Inlet.

It was due to the intense training the surfmen did at poles like this one that the USLSS
was able to come to the aid of 177,286 of 178,741 endangered souls.

We stand in awe of the men (and women) who put their lives at risk to save others from the perils of the sea — then and now.

If you’d like to see the full-size versions of the photos used in the collages, visit our online gallery.

Itching for an NQ

Well... not these doggies, but moi. It was the first time I'd competed on grass and at this one certain point in the ring, you might have thought someone put scratchy powder there (although no other doggies did what I did). But tell you what: after I "did" it, I was like a deer in the headlights. I was totally flummoxed and didn't have a clue as to what I was supposed to do. I looked out at Dad, taking the movie, and standing stock still, looked at Ma. Was I supposed to go to her? Stay where I was? (After my booboo, Dad took pictures of the grass and surroundings, so since Ma doesn't know how to edit vids, you might want to stop after the "problem.")
Little did my rookie Ma know that she could have called me and just lost 3 points. Since I NQed at another show because Mom had to call me 2X on the "recall," Mom felt that I'd be disqualified if she called me to "come" after also saying "Heel." (2 commands again, in one exercise.) So we learned that it's an NQ to call 2x on the recall, but Mom could have called me in the heeling exercise with a minimum loss of points blah blah! Exasperating, but experience counts. And that is why, despite having earned my CD at the last show, I was here today - entered as insurance in case I didn't qualify at that last trial.
I'd rather be doing this!!!

Easter Collage

After a hunt with grandpeeps, I got to play with my kong at Limantour Beach. Mom experimented with a collage. Hope you all had a superb Sunday afternoon! xo Sammie

Billie The Beak - Gone, but not Forgotten

We have been in denial for the last two days, but extensive searches have failed to find Billie the Beak. That feisty ex-battery hen, a real character. We will miss her.

Here she is leading her little flock - Little Red Hen and Sick Chick. Billie was always the boss, she ruled their woodland with a very pointy beak, and she wasn't afraid to use it.

She was always the first to greet us when we went into the wood.

This was her usual form of greeting and it didn't matter whether we wore wellies or sandals... she preferred the sandal option.

The other two hens are a little lost without their leader. Because we were working in the gardens today we let the hens out of the wood to join us, they just wanted company... and a few birdy treats from under the apple tree.

Sparky decided to check out the bird boxes and pointed out that this one needs some maintenance. Thanks Sparky.

During my lunch break I nipped up the road to visit Arnold - another shock awaited me... an empty field...no Arnold ... just a lock of coarse, black horse (tail) hair, near the fence.





My heart was in my mouth as I knocked on John's door and asked if Arnold was alright - John came out and shouted for him ... eventually Arnold came out of the inner yard, munching on some hay. Phew! What a relief.

He doesn't look quite as smart as he did at the weekend because he has been rolling in the mud again - but he still looks better than normal. He was a little miffed when I pulled out the camera and made him wait for his carrot. He forgave me, especially when we got to his favourite part of the proceedings, his polo mint.

I took the opportunity to check with John about what type of tree this one is. He confirmed that it is an Ash. The house was built in the 1830's, so the tree may well be a similar age, approx 180 years. It has the typical lattice patterned trunk of an ancient Ash tree. We still don't know whether it is one or two trees though!

'Bye Billie, I hope your end was swift.

Goo to you

Big spring rains = orange goo.

This year we had an overabundance of the Cedar-quince rust (gooey bits seen here) and not so much Cedar-apple rust (noodly orange meatballs).

Sporulation, my new favorite word.
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These photos are really from about 3 weeks ago - I forgot to post them earlier. I have been forgetting a lot of things lately.

"Samantha is Golden" from Zoolatry!

I received a most bootiful and generous gift from Ann at Zoolatry, where you will meet Maggy and Zoey. If you don't know them already, jet on over and intro yourselveses!!!

Also, take a look-see here: CC Collectibles by Zoolatry. Through computer art programs, Ann does some amazing work with feline photos. I feel furry, furry lucky that she did one fur me as well, since, as you all knows, I is a canine. A zillion thanks and woofies for this bootiful "painting" of me being happy, curious and... golden. How talented you are, Ann! Ann also sent me the gorgeous Christmas blog header, which we put to use almost immediately. Again, a billion thanks and hugs and woofs to you all - Zoolatry rocks! We are very grateful.

The awakening

Again it seems to have been a while between posts. Actually, there are a few things that have been happening, but I've not had time to write anything lately. Last weekend I finally made it to Crows Nest National Park for a three day bike tour, the one I've been planning for almost three years. It was beautiful as expected, and a few other little events made it more interesting than I'd hoped.
I'm also taking pictures on a new camera after the previous one took an impromptu swim in Mt Cougal Creek at Dickfos Falls a week and a half ago when I fell on it. The old camera took over 2,200 pictures in the 18 months or so that I had it, so perhaps it was time for an upgrade. I've gone for another Canon camera because I've always been impressed with the pictures they take, but the resolution of this one is 10 MP. The rate at which these things are improving is almost scary, I remember 5MP being state-of-the-art just a few years ago, now 10 MP is relatively inexpensive. That said, I'm still hoping to save the last few pictures from the old camera.
Finally, changed the route by which I was riding to work, by more or less restoring my old commute through Surfers Paradise and Broadbeach. I now have a 26km round trip as opposed to the 17km round trip that just wasn't doing it for me before, and I get to spend a big chunk of the ride next to the ocean. On the other hand, passing through Surfers Paradise enables me to observe some of the great nonsensical situations of mankind.
For the last two weeks there has been a guy holding up one of those stop/go signs that is used to control traffic in road construction zones. His problem? He's at least a kilometre away from the nearest bit of construction that's actually going on. I'm not entirely sure what this is supposed to achieve. I do realise that all current construction projects relating to public infrastructure aren't due to be completed until at least (there are no elections this year at any level of government around here), but really, this is a waste of time even allowing for that fact. Oh well, I'm sure I'll have plenty of similar tales to relate in the coming months.

Here's the Thing....

I've over-committed myself this week; BIG TIME!!!But nothing can be moved, so it is what it is.                                                                                                  Here's what my week looks like: Monday-Three children over for art and music 11-3, two friends over for tea at 4:30 this afternoon with their four children under six to plan Garrett & Mallory's engagement party this Friday.Tuesday- Take Darcie to tutor at 12:00 and pick up at 3:00.  Shop for her Easter shoes then take her to youth chorale at 4:00 and then horseback riding at 5:30.Wednesday & Thursday-Fairly normal days with Garrett coming sometime Thursday.
Friday (the killer)-Bookgroup at my house at 12:00 with the engagement party at 5:00.
Sunday-Multiple family members coming over for Easter egg hunt and Sunday dinner.
Lots of cooking to be done and homeschooling in the midst; not to mention cleaning, cooking,  and laundry.
Here's the thing...I don't do well with a week like this.  I don't enjoy this much busyness.  But I'm committed and have to deal with it.  I'll have to be super organized with many lists in order to get it all done.  The older I get the less I like weeks like this.  I try to have a 'summer state of mind' year round and wide margins around events and less to-do lists.
How I wish I could just have a happy-go-lucky attitude, relax, and do everything in a leisurely manner.  On the outside I've learned to at least look like I'm calm.  After all, aren't older people supposed to be wise and unruffled?  
God gave me my personality along with all it's nuances and quirks.  I read somewhere recently that our temperaments are gifts from God.  I think so too.  Temperaments aren't sinful, but we sure sin plenty through them.
The key is to learn how to respect the way God made me and not sin when I'm overwhelmed or too busy by being short-tempered, angry, or frustrated.  
One of the things I do that I hate most is that instead of living in the moment and enjoying every second of whatever I'm doing, I find myself wishing things would hurry and be over so I could have some peace and quiet.  Yes, that is my biggest idol of the heart.
This is what I see as the solution; pray that God would make me more tolerant of noise and activity and to enjoy the moment and not look for it to be over, to try and avoid busy weeks like this one, to be gracious as I possibly can, and to love all these people I'm surrounded by more than myself, which is the reason I crave solitude in the first place.  I mean I love myself more than I do others.
Any suggestions or words of wisdom floating around out there?  Do you agree with my assessment of the solution?  What do ya'll think?

MangoMinster! We Dig the Extreme Sports!

As everybuddy must know by now, the great Mango, famed far and wide for his many feats of incredulity (all performed with a humble soul of course), has sent out loud woofs to all potential competitors for his MangoMinster! You can go to the site of the games by clicking on his name, above! We are entering in the Adventure category!
Hi y'all! If it's Adventure ya wanna have, come join me doin' the Splash Dawgie thang! It's pretty scary at first, but then ya get into the swing of it and jes' let go and fly! On a hot summer day, there is nuttin' like it to cool ya off! Lemme know if'n any of y'all wanna come join moi, Avalon, in the sport of Dock divin'!!!

Hey! Moi here: Sammie the Rock Jock. I am soloing steep Sierra granite without chalk or even my climbing shoes - somewhere around Lake Margaret at an elevation of 8500 feet! I'm watchin' where I place my paws very carefully. This. Is. Extreme. Anybuddy who wants to learn how to climb like this, contact me, Sammie, at PawesomeGranite!
We are jes' so "up" for the MangoMinster that we can't help ourselves to enter! Maybe this is the harbinger for Mom to get her butt off the youknowwhat and start being the assistant we know she can be heheh!

Keeping Dreams Alive

Never again, she vowed, would she live a noisy life that killed her dreams. They were her reason for living, the only thing that she had to give to the world, and she must live in the way that suited them best.

From A CITY OF BELLS by Elizabeth Goudge

Thinking Like a Man

You know how when a man sets out to do a task, he has tunnel vision and gets the job done?  Or you ask him to watch the kids while you go shopping, and when you get back  everyone's still alive but nothing else has been done?  He didn't think to unload the dishwasher, vacuum the house, do the laundry, etc.  He was watching the kids!  
I used to be amazed by this when it happened.  How come I can do fifteen things at once and he can only do one?  Well, I think it's because we're made differently!  Are you having a lightbulb moment?  This really is going somewhere, I promise.
This week I got tons of stuff done.  I also had a revelation about my work habits.  
Years ago B.C. (before children), I had the ability to focus for long periods of time; hours even.  I'd begin and end a project on the same day.  Then the children came along.  I remember fussing to a friend about my inability to get anything done for all the interruptions.  She gave me this advice that I've used now for almost thirty years.  She said, "You have to learn to work piecemeal."  I had no idea what she meant never having heard that word before.  She explained, "When you sew, instead of trying to make the whole thing at one time, just thread your machine.  If you are able, go ahead and lay out your pattern, etc."  In other words, learn to work in very small increments. 
So that's the way I've trained myself to work, and Flylady says the same thing.  You can conquer the world fifteen minutes at a time.  That's great advice and really keeps you from being frustrated.  You eventually get things done.
But now that I'm in a position to have longer stretches of time to work, I don't know what to do.  My attention span is almost zero or about fifteen minutes long!  I'm going to have to retrain myself to think.  The book The Power of an Hour by Dave Lakhani that I'm reading does just that.  He says that great amounts of work can be done in an hour of focused attention.
Studies have shown that it takes about twenty minutes to get in "the zone".  I've found this to be exactly right.  I love when the zone happens.  The world fades away.  It's just you and your work.  It's a very satisfying place to be.  
So that's what I'm going to try to do this month.  I'm going to make myself stick to a project for an hour at a time.  Hopefully I'll be able to retrain myself to work the way I once could.  And young women, don't hate me because I have this kind of time now.  It took me thirty years to get here!  Well, actually twenty seven, but who's counting.