Author: barbiepc

Dearest Readers:

Like you I have cabin fever. Sitting at home, unable to see friends, have luncheons, and just fun ‘girlfriend time,’ leaves me depressed and about ready to scream. However, after our move to the country, I don’t think anyone would hear a scream. I’m not missing suburbia at all. When I feel at my breaking point, I go outside and sit on a bench by the pond.

After we moved, I didn’t know we had turtles. Now, I do. So far, I’ve counted at least ten turtles. On sunny days, I see them sunbathing. Other times, I watch their little heads pop up and down in the water. Much to my surprise, I’ve discovered they like when I sing to them. I’ve named one Myrtle the Turtle and when I sing “Myrtle the turtle – where are you,” I am able to see them swimming towards me. This give me such pleasure at a time in our lives when Corona Virus is captivating the world.

The turtles are trusting me and they enjoy hearing me song. Yes. People, for those of you who’ve never heard me singing, I’ve been told I have a great voice. I think the turtles agree!

Since I live in the Charleston, SC community where travel tourism and hospitality are truly suffering after the stay-at-home order and before, my heart breaks to learn how our economy is suffering. According to the Post and Courier newspaper this morning, tourism is about a $24 billion industry for the State, including Charleston.

Funny, I haven’t heard about traffic congestion lately although when Phil and I go to the grocery store, we still have lots of traffic on the roads. For those who are wondering IF Charleston is allowing tourism now, I would say, you will be restricted. All parks are closed. Hotels and restaurants closed. Some hotels are open, and if you want to come to Charleston to enjoy our amazing culinary cuisine and hotels, or to party — well, you might consider visiting at another time. Take out orders only! No dining inside and forget meeting others. The City is closed!

Downtown is not permitting the carriage tours. I haven’t driven downtown to see exactly what is going on. Some people compare this to a hurricane. I disagree. With hurricanes, Charleston becomes a ghost town. The city goes dark. No traffic, especially if we are told we must leave. After Hurricane Floyd, I promised myself I would never fight the traffic again just to get out of Charleston! So, I say, there is no comparison for hurricanes and Corona Virus.

Yesterday, my husband and I were snapping at each other. I told him I need space! Later, we had a small discussion, agreeing that we are on each other’s nerves. I had another talk with God, apologizing and telling Him I would stop. Breathe. Inhale. Breathe again, and thank God for our health.

I think I’m hearing another press conference from our President, Donald Trump now, so perhaps I will close this free writing episode and listen to the latest. It is so depressing!

Please pray for us, our Nation and the World. We need this Corona Virus to fade away. Never to return. I pray for all who are sick around the world. I am considered a high-risk due to asthma, so I cope by staying inside. Washing my hands repeatedly and when I go to the grocery store, I pray I find Lysol, hand sanitizers and other necessary products. I haven’t found any of them. I’m careful using my last bottle of Lysol. I’ll be so happy when this crisis is over. Easter is just around the corner. We need miracles, please dear God. Give the world a miracle!

Cypress Gardens. A beautiful location to photograph and to have family fun, except when Corona Virus is sickening the entire world.

Dearest Readers:

Yes, I know. I haven’t written or posted anything in months. I plan to share that story later — perhaps titled ‘MOVING — A COMEDY OF ERRORS!’

I promise. That story will be shared; however, today, I have a strange piece of humor to share. You might laugh until you ache!

Last night – in the early morning hours just before dawn, I awaken hearing a boom, crashing sound by the new house. I sit up curious as to what was going on outside.

I rush to the ladies room, deciding to go outside to see what happened. Still half asleep, I open the back door. I do not check to see if it is still locked. After all, I left the door open! Gusting winds are creating a graceful ballet of swaying trees dancing all around me. Tall pine trees. Oaks. Magnolias. Sycamore. All are dancing such a beautiful ballet.

From the porch I admire this beautiful dance of nature. Suddenly, I hear SLAM! The back door closed. Uh. Oh!

I’m locked out of my house and it is still dark outside. What? Do? I? Do?

I jiggle the door handle. LOCKED!

Deciding to knock on the door, I realize Phil is sound asleep. He will not awaken.

I make fists of my hands, knocking on the door. Of course, no one responds, and so I decide to knock with a rhythmic method of percussion.

Bang Bang. Knock Knock. Bang de Bang. Bang de Bang.Bang de Bang. Bang de Bang.

Stopping because my fingers ache, I glance outside. The motion lights are on and it is still so dark. What do I do now?

Of course, my cell phone is inside the house, charging. I continue banging.

The only thing I know to do now, is either continue banging, hoping Phil just might hear something, or I can go outside into the gusting winds and rain and get on the front porch and ring the doorbell. HUMPH! I doubt he’ll hear the doorbell, so I continue my rhythmic drumming until my fingers are throbbing.

Stepping onto the porch steps, I shake my hands so they’ll stop hurting from the drumming.

Something tells me not to step into the dark of night. Again, I drum the sound of percussion from my fingertips and hands.

Maybe I should pray!

I flex my fingertips. Dear God, please let Phil hear me. Maybe he’ll come check on me to see if I’m ok. He knows I sleep on the sofa now since I can’t get comfortable in bed due to this aching back. My back brace is inside. My back will start hurting if I continue standing here. Please, dear God, let him hear me.

I’m still standing on the porch, dressed in leggings and shorty PJ’s and socks. If I step outside to walk around to the front of the house I’ll be soaked. Just what do I do now? My back hurts.

Please dear God, awaken Phil.

As I turn away to step outside, I drum on the glass once more. The hall light comes on! God is helping me!

I see Phil standing by the sofa. I knock on the glass again, beating a rhythm of HELP! help. HELP!

Phil opens the back door. I practically jump into his arms. Thank you! Thank you. You heard me!

He yawns. “What are you doing out here?”

I heard a noise so I wanted to check. The gusting winds shut the back door, locking me out.

I walked to the sofa, rubbing my aching back. Phil tucks me in. It is 5:15 am. Still so dark!

Phil decides since he is awake, he might as well go to work, provided I’m OK. He touches me. I moan, anxious to fall back to sleep.

I kissed him, touching his face. Thank you for rescuing me, again!