A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.
Robert and the Longleaf
Ever since we read Janisse Ray’s Ecology of a Cracker Childhood and watched the beautiful documentary Secrets of the Longleaf, Robert and I have been obsessed with the majestic Longleaf Pine Tree.
The Longleaf Pine once reigned supreme, covering over 90 million acres across the coastal plain of the U.S. Now, because of logging and mismanagement, only several million acres are left.
Robert and I have been fortunate to see the stately pine and reintroduction efforts in our Georgia State Part travels.
Here’s Robert … talking to a Longleaf, while others in the background lean in to listen …
This blog category is the journaling and journey-ing of my quest to say (with cautious sincerity) “Hello, Anxiety” and to take a look at the condition from my “me-andering” views.
Here are two definitions of ANXIETY. First, from Oxford Languages:
Well, Oxford Languages summed it up pretty well: “Worry, Unease, Nervousness,” otherwise known as WUN. (Truth in blogging: I just made up that acronym.)
Unnecessary sidebar: Did you know that “wun” is an actual word?! At least according to the unrivaled urbandictionary.com.
Uh oh, “Walking with the occasional burst of running for a few seconds, or minutes at best,” not to mention “let’s hope I survive” both sound eerily, anxiously familiar.
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A “hypothetical“ convo between Anxiety, Developing Truth and Me:
Me: “Anxiety ain’t gonna wun over me. I’m gonna wun from it.”
Anxiety: “We’ll see.”
Developing Truth: “Neal, it’s not about being adversarial, combative or managerial with Anxiety.”
Anxiety: “Again, we will see.”
Developing Truth: “Breathe and try again, Neal.”
Me: “Okay. I ain’t gonna wun from it. At least I’m gonna try not to.”
Developing Truth: “That’s enough for now.”
Anxiety: “We. Will. See.”
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The second definition of Anxiety is from “my sister,” Anxiety Girl:
Last month, Robert and I took our second day trip over to the University of Georgia’s Marine Extension and Sea Grant on Skidaway Island.
“By advancing research, education and training, and outreach, UGA Marine Extension and Georgia Sea Grant promotes the economic, cultural and environmental health of Georgia’s coast and prepare citizens to become good stewards of coastal ecosystems and watershed resources.” — Marine Extension and Sea Grant website
A cloudy day, with rain threatening, we braved our away onto the Sea Dawg, UGA’s 43’ research vessel.
Here’s how UGA described our adventure …
Here’s Robert looking excited and normal (and a little bit like a dark Gilligan) …
And here’s me with a sort of seated and crazed I’m-not-so-sure-about-this-floating-Dawg-thing look …
We did two trawls, and although at first glance each catch looked like it held basically one type of little fish, upon closer inspection there were a couple of dozen different fish species, as well as sting ray, jellyfish, sponges, coral, etc.
Thankfully, these trawls on the salty Wilmington River brought up very little trash.
We can’t wait for the next adventure on the water. Thanks, UGA. Woof.
Today I’m resurrecting an old blog category I used to publish each Friday where I listed five things which bring joy to my life. I ingeniously named the category “Five Friday Happy Bringers.” It’s a weekly gratitude journal of sorts.
So here’s today’s listing.
1. Brilliant fall, even in Savannah.
A cool leafing in the Design District
2. Our body’s natural ability to breathe.
On an exit door at my local Y
3. Old shoes which fit so comfortably.
4. Robert’s homemade chicken pot pies.
5. This little blog, which is enabling me to reconnect with a small but significant sense of purpose.
A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.
Robert and a Really Big Steak
A few years back, Robert and I were in Atlanta to celebrate our anniversary. On previous trips, we had passed by this architecturally interesting building off I-85 just north of the city.
Wait. What? You don’t find it all that interesting? Well, Robert didn’t either. But in the spirit of blissful anniversarial celebration, I insisted that we go for our dinner festivities.
You can see why, right? Doesn’t the name itself make you happy? All circque du soleil-ish and island-drinky!
We walked through the classy daiquiri bar to get to our table. Walked too quickly, if you ask me.
Robert wouldn’t let me stop. Even though they had a wonderful selection …
Robert was hungry, so we quickly perused the menu, and my eyes immediately found the Tomahawk for two. It WAS our anniversary after all.
Here’s Cirque’s menu description of the big steak:
Neither of us being very good with numbers, 36 ounces sounded like enough for both of us.
After endearing anniversary chit-chat (“But why don’t you want to celebrate with that pretty blue daiquiri?”), 36 ounces finally made their way to our table.
We were both simply shocked. (Why didn’t we do our math homework in eighth grade?!) Here’s my husband, with a somewhat crazed and confused look on his celebratory face, holding our dinner soon after it arrived. It was far too heavy for me to pick up, but I wanted a scrapbook pic for posterity.
Hours later, and 36 plus ounces heavier, we slowly waddled back past the daiquiri bar (I was too stuffed to take a final longing glance at the “Blue Mutha”—the Tomahawk had “Shut my Mouth”) and into the Atlanta midnight.
Some fourteen years ago, when older daughter Amy announced that she was pregnant with our first grandchild, I was both ecstatic and a tad nervously hesitant. A grandfather?! Seriously?! At this stage in my life? Am I even old enough to be a grandfather … officially?!
The old blog post below explains (in excruciating detail) how I ended up being called “Abu” (Abuelo = Grandfather) by that first grandchild Daniel—and all the other ones who came later.
Younger daughter Emily is a whiz at making custom t-shirts, so she recently created these two for Robert and me. Grandson Daniel came up with the idea of calling Robert “Rbu” to go along with my “Abu,” making us a weirdly matching set.
Here’s a rather messily photographed past post from back in 2014. I may still have had a flip phone. I’m loath to change.
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Yes I admit it, I’m an optimist. Pollyanna’s a very good buddy. We take tap dancing together.
What I actually mean is I’m USUALLY a somewhat cheery person. But not always. A while back, I underwent a fairly unpleasant medical procedure. (I’m a big baby when it comes to anything that hurts at a .5 or higher on a 1-10 pain level.)
Here I am in the waiting room, reading about blogging:
Finally I was called back to the eerily quiet and humanly empty procedure room where I had to wait in nervous solitude for quite a while. The doctor was running way behind.
I got bored pretty quickly and started playing with the IPhone’s … reverse camera capability. Doesn’t that sound better than saying I took a bunch of selfies?
I looked at these terrible pictures, grimaced at their muted and otherworldly haziness, realized I wasn’t smiling–and started to delete them.
Then it hit me.
“Get real, Neal. It’s okay not to smile. It’s okay to be muted and hazy … and to be by yourself for a while. Being out of focus doesn’t mean being out of life.”
A blog category of pics I’ve taken of Hubby Robert and … well, just about anything.
Robert and my Father
Robert cutting my 95-year-old father’s hair at the Canton (Ga) Nursing and Rehabilitation Center And a year or so later at the Georgia War Veterans Nursing Hone in Augusta
NealEnJoy 