Zombie Survival

My best friend and I have managed to maintain our relationship despite us living on opposite sides of the country now.  I reside in charming Charleston, South Carolina.  This is a state Ellen refuses to submit her or her hound dog to. She believes a hair deviling humidity and comatose inducing heat part of the country. 
Ellen lives in amazing Jackson, Wyoming. I reject ever living anywhere again that gets colder than 30 degrees, well in my fantasy world ever, but in reality after this last chilly week we’ll say almost never. 

I would love to say that Ellen and I refuse to purchase cable because of our anti commercialism. Perhaps we could say we don't watch ABC from an adopted attitude that we have better things to do, higher calling things to do with our time, but really it’s because we are poor.  The solution to ignore all those more rewarding time fillers like get outdoors, volunteer or read a decent book and mush our brains was solved when I discovered our public libraries have turned into Blockbuster without the fees. TV series, movies, reality shows all ready to be checked out at your local county facility. Over the last eight months we have bounced different shows off of each other.  Hung, Girls, Shameless, Breaking Bad and finally I got Ellen to try Walking Dead. 

Despite her dismissive text, “You really like your plots being spoon fed to you?” I knew she was still gorging herself on the series when I received a message questioning what shoe to wear for when the zombie apocalypse finally does arrive?  Practical hiking or those favorite grey suede boots that it would be a sin to leave behind? 

I am not really the diehard going to try to live out my life until I’m 100 kind of gal. I figure when the aches and pains and no retirement cash catch up to me I’ll Thelma and Louise it, but if the world goes all brain eating before I rent a thunderbird convertible I totally see the two of us up for a good challenge of going survivalist.  Your credit score is wiped out in this time of duress right? 

So from shoes to skills needed the evening resulted in how us two gals could stay alive list. We have decided to split our getting ready for doom duties.  Ellen is going to learn to hotwire cars and do basic auto repairs.  I’m assigning her minor medical as well since I just don’t do those things.  I am getting zombie butt kicking fit and will learn hand gun safety and precision. I want to sharpen up on my  edible plants. I'm not a details kind of gal but if I keep in mind the outcome of the movie Into The Wild that should keep me picky about what we put in our mouths.

 I’m pretty sure the love of my life will perform some act of kindness and die in the first flurry. It will be hard without him but I will stay strong because of his sacrifice. So it will be up to just the two of us equipped with our top ten needs and our heroic sidekick dogs. One zombie attacking labrador and a hound that can smell the recently expired, walking dead better look out!    

Zombie Survival top 10-

1. Vintage Cloud Walker back pack-
I was lucky enough during my stalking of the local thrift store in Jackson to reap the benefits of the rich disposing of their junk and found the perfect hiking bag.  You really would have to pry this out of my cold hands.

2.  Nalley Chilli- This is my go to comfort food and it could be used as a brain smasher in a pinch.

3. My Gramps hunting knife- I was lucky enough to come across this during my de-cluttering of my Grandmothers home. It was so lonely just sitting in the bottom drawer of a hutch.  Still sharp and complete with a homemade leather belt holder. 

4. Survival cord bracelet-Have you seen these things? How handy is this piece of jewelry.  I can leash the dog or tie up my pants. I might grab a couple of these.

5. Waterproof hiking boots-I would get some ankle protecting Keen's to stomp through the world.

6. Favorite book-I was going to go with Grapes of Wrath but I figure a little comedy might be needed so Hitchhikers Guide to the Universe it is.

7. Towel-those of you who have ever read my favorite above book would never leave home without one so why should I. They make this camping one that is antibacterial with it's own net bag I have my eye on.

8.Green Columbia Wool Jacket-You will see many pictures of me in this every occasion jacket on FB, yet another thrift store find.  You cant go wrong with wool and it's light enough to stash.

9. Toothbrush-I agree with Ellen a toothbrush will just help you feel clean even if you haven't bathed in days.

10.Cantacts/glasses-I will be useless without one or the other and you don't have to wipe blood splatter off of contacts.  Just before it goes down I'm robbing a Wal-Mart of a lifetime supply! 


Miss you very much Ellen! 

The distance between things

Mr.D and I had poured over google maps, cross referencing potential house rentals with its satellite visuals. Me in Oregon him sitting in the warmth, my local Charlestonian expert.  He just kept repeating sure the map say’s twenty minutes but you won’t want to drive that long trust me.  I had been living in the middle of Wyoming. The closest big box store was a two hour drive from Jackson.  A majority of the working class had to traverse the most dangerous commute created carved over the Teton range. An engine work out 30 mile an hour please go faster climb followed with a brake smoking please go slower decline.  Twice a day an hour of your life crossing your fingers the guard rail would hold just in case.  So why would Summerville be that bad?  Mr. D insisted that I might as well never see Charleston or him if I chose to reside in Ravenel.  Looking at the map thirty minutes to downtown and not having the Rockies in between to me seemed like a great cheap option.

Day one of my scouting trip started with an amazing Chai latte and pastry from Wild Flour bakery and some even more impressive only way to wake up action from Mr. D.  With an all knowing shake of his head my patient man in shining Toyota drove us to Ravenel. There we had the opportunity to step under the threshold into some tropical storms appetizer.  A manufactured home sweet home.  Located on the edge of a lovely swamp. 

My simple priorities for my domicile were that I refused to live with some crazy roommate, or share a wall that the neighbors would hear me role playing out some fabulous naked game with my lover.  My dog needed space to run. I needed a bath tub and a decent size kitchen.  Well this place had a great tub. 

I could argue until the alligators came home that the country life could be great.  Riding along through the woods and over the bayou on our way back to the inner sanctum inside the 526 loop, it seemed like I had way too long to process the opportunity of living in a trailer.  I learned an important first lesson about my new relationship in that very long thirty minutes.  Mr. D is always right.

From the beautiful Angel Oak to the infamous direction post for everything of the Wal Mart at Goose Creek nothing was filling the bill. If I hadn’t got my twice of three a day nookie demand fulfilled I would have lost my patience with Ms. GPS.  She kept screaming please U turn please U turn until we finally found the little street and the white house in North Charleston.  It always is the last one isn’t it?

Present day- yes I live in one of the highest crime rated areas in the US. I prefer to call it an up and coming neighborhood.  Well I have a giant black dog that seems to scare the be-jesus out of the majority of my hood. I have a spacious house with an even larger fenced yard.  So the homeless crack heads house squatting across the street are outside all the time. I like to think of it as neighborhood watch.   Home ghetto home it is!  
And Mr. D is still always right, even when he's wrong...

My demand for a relationship (as promised)

I mentioned I had demanded love in my life in my last blog and here is that request. 

Processing Madras and getting it out to the Universe

November 29, 2012 at 8:42pm

 

I guess the great thing about visiting Madras was realizing I am not the only one that is not living the life they thought they would have by now.  Some of us have pulled into the 30 something depot with all the correct baggage in hand. Wife or Husband, children, house payment, retirement a financial reality.  Some of us wake up when the train came to a halt and are completely empty handed and are left scratching our heads hmm where are my bags, should I have bags?

Maybe the piggy back of the 35th birthday, giving up what little life I did have to move in with the family,  then following that up with going home was like a big hammer over the head.  Sue Brown and old family friend told me a story I'm sure was supposed to be encouraging about her 40 something single lady friend that was happy with her fabulous single life and the future of dancing through it to her own drum.  Well that story made me want to kinda cry.

I think I'm going to prioritize a love life.  Do I still want a job in rescue, do I still want to write?  Yes, but I can have all that with a significant other.  Probably a very patient understanding other but.  Of course just making that decision makes me feel better. How to implement that decision is going to be a little harder. Especially since I do not want anything motivating me to stay in Enterprise.  Jessica and I agree that getting a sticker that says Single and Looking and planting it on my ass is a funny solution. Perhaps not the classiest.  So this is my attempt to just get it out into the universe.  I am not happy being single anymore. I want to have sex daily, heated discussions, someone to cook for and someone to travel with me.  Ok Universe do your job! 

Credit Cards

So some states don’t accept debit cards as a form of payment for a rental car and if I was one of those people that read fine print then maybe I would not have been stuck so high and dry at the rental station.  If ever visiting Charleston have a major credit card. Damn would Dave Ramsey the anti-credit card guru of mine raise some hell.  Already the damsel in distress not an hour on the ground.  I felt the panic knot rising from my gut. An entire scouting trip wasted without a car to actually scout.  I decided to O’Hara my distress and just get my luggage to a destination. 

 

After some great advice from my cab guy about the importance of establishing good credit I arrived at my first experience with a vacation home rental. VRBO rocks. I searched online for the picturesque downtown locale.  I wanted cozy, old school, easy access, clean and yes I will take a bike rental with that!   They served that all up with an Adirondack chair on the side.  Yes, one thing had gone as planned.

 Now I had the countdown to meeting my prince charming Mr. D. T minus three hours to rock out potentially my most important first impression of my romantic life! 

Months of buildup and he was in my driveway. Do I jump him (slut)?  Shake his hand (prude)?  Run away in horror from his bald midget ass (superficial)? 

Huge smile, breath released my Mr. D was just what he was supposed to be. I grabbed him in a tight relieved hug.  Amazingly not awkward. Should I be writing for Match.com?  Maybe it was our old age, the months of buildup, the relief of neither one of us being a big fat lie?  Truly it was like old high school buddies seeing each other after too many years.  Not quite there but at a level where at least I didn’t stutter. 

 Oddly enough Jackson WY nurtured a true addiction to sushi.  Fresh fish flown in daily!  Being stuck in the middle of north east Oregon did not feed that a habit. Mr. D had listened to my needs and reserved us at the high rated Tsunami downtown for our first dinner date. I provided him with his first real going out to sushi experience.The Thursday night half price rolls didn’t make him pass out when it was time for his admitted tight ass to pay for the bill. I was giggly on my fresh fish high. He held my hand under the Palmettos strolling down cobbled streets and the waiting to exhale moment was happening!   But wait we still have to deal with the good in bed deal breaker?  

Well I’m not going to go 50 shades on you but there are men where you rationalize “I can work with this maybe” and then there are men that make you wonder why they aren’t tied up for your personal use at all convenient times!  Well, tie him up! 

 

So I had two love affairs hit me at once. The perfect South Carolina blue skies and the same clear color sparkle from my new mate.  A job and a house and then it would be a royal flush.

The man

I arrived to scout out Charleston on a perfectly low humidity, sunny, 60 degree afternoon. 

 

O wait I forgot the man, how could I forget the man?  My oldest friend Audra asked, again? You’re moving to place where you know no one again?  I have chalked up AZ, LA, TX, AK and WY in the past. Boldly jumping into the new situation with little hesitation and for the most part great success. Audra’s question was followed by a few of my facebook friends asking; you don’t know anyone there?  It had never occurred to me to move someplace where I knew someone. 

 

I had made a new years goal to be in a relationship this year. Well actually I commanded the universe to get to work on finding my love in a dramatic proclamation on Facebook. (see copy in next post) So while the cosmos pulled it’s strings I was struggling to implement my life change of single to couple hood in podunk OR. When my buddy Jeremy reminded me he had found his wife on a dating website, I threw almost all those doubts about online dating stigma to the wayside. I signed myself up for match in the Charleston area.  Five men where in the running then Mr. D nailed his questions. 

 

I was intellectual about this process on match.  I made a few questions I thought would be revealing. My favorite question was do you listen to NPR?  Others included do you volunteer, do you like your job and lastly what are you passionate about.  This time around I wasn’t going to get some doe eyed, guitar pickin’, coke head that girls drooled over. Or the sexy alcoholic military man that could fuck pleasure screams out of me all night. Then conveniently get “deployed”, A.K.A my wife is coming back next week.

 

Nope I wanted a man that helped old women across the street, could afford to take me out to dinner and knew how to fix a car thanks to Click and Clack! Mr. D was a tall skinny blond that loved to sail. ARRR I could be an Olive Oyle. He had held a real job getting his hands dirty for 15 years. I don’t trust a man that comes home cleaner than me from work. I told him I wanted to have sex three times a day and he paused for a minute then pledged to live up to the challenge.  Now that is my kind of man! We talked every night and bonded with each other like no other relationship I had previously had.  From across the country he was the whole package. My biggest and yes shallow fear was when I saw him for the first time he was in reality going to be a short, fat old man that suffered from erectile dysfunction due to alcoholism! 

 

I arrived on a Thursday afternoon…

 

Introduction

I can give you wine, sex, adventure and bike accidents. I will explore a blossoming romance, great food, painful workouts, more wine and all that is Charleston in my new gal to town stories.  Are you ready for the ride? It could cause a concussion!

 

This whole thing started because of Hootie and the damn Blowfish.  Not even a big fan of the guy but my online music station played a live version of “Let Her Cry.”  At the end of the song just before they cut off Mr. Hootie he makes a toast “to his absolute favorite city, Charleston SC.”  Charleston, hmmm. I was currently unemployed, overweight, depressed and a frozen Popsicle suffocating in my cocoon of goose down in marvelous Jackson, WY.  The plan was to run back to my City of Sin New Orleans, get drunk and stay drunk and have random acts of sex when I could finally afford to leave my frozen tundra that had been my home for five years. Wait just a minute though Charleston was southern too. 

 

I added the song to my soft and loving play list and every time Hootie crooned, Charleston buried itself into my subconscious just a little more. The song came up a lot. Did I mention I was a little sad?  Half a bottle of cheap wine and me drenched in flannel dancing in the middle of the living room, “yep just let me cry dude” for the 5^th time in a row! My black lab Hagan’s deep brown eyes looking up at me saying I will bite you if you try to get me to dance one more time!

 

O the Teton County Library, the mecca to all unemployed and mildly nutty folks of the area.  These were my peeps now. Good ole Dell renting 20 videos everyday, the token homeless black lady muttering to herself while she sloshed her coffee all over the new floors. The cool desk host in his hipster glasses that tried not to judge when I would again rent, Out of Africa.  Robert don’t die this time?  On my daily trek to the library to search for a job I would look up Charleston for the last few minutes allotted me on the public computers.  Charleston had a ton of beaches nice, then next time I saw that the city is a Smithsonian of American history. I mean after all it is Charles Town folks.  A few weeks later I dug deeper. Could my tourism degree be useful here?  Well yes, yes indeed!  “Tourons” of all ages were poured into the city by the cruise ships that shadowed the harbor with their McDonalds super size me massiveness!  Pale and pasty visitors swarm like locusts sweeping through Meeting Street devouring kitschy ticky tackies that were perfect for the cousins Christmas present! Demanding local employees to tell them the best place they could find that authentic low country grit!

 

Better yet could I work in Animal Rescue? I had fallen hard for the beggars pay, air overflowing with progesterone and frizzy hair, rescue fatigue right around the corner life. I had found my calling in making matches with poor puppies and fabulous owners. Well what do you know they had one of the leaders of rescue right in North Charleston. 

 

The next time I was squinting at the computer I looked up the crime rate. In New Orleans I had seen drive by shootings, my car was broken into twice and I stopped a guy from getting pumped full of bullet holes. All the time just shrugging my shoulders over the ridiculously high crime encounters. It was part of the charm of MY city, but wait maybe I could live somewhere where the threat of death could be less? This little city was rough around the edges but for the most part in comparison to the Big Easy it was Disneyland. 

 

I really couldn’t find an excuse to not at least try this place out.  Months went by while I worked my last summer job in Jackson and tearfully left the family I had accumulated and my best friend to move to Oregon. I have not sobbed harder than when I was in a dirty hotel in Boise, ID and realized my living nightmare come to fruition was only a day’s drive away. I was moving in with my mother and grandmother after I had fled the nest at the age of sixteen.  Mother needed some knee surgeries and two months turned into many MONTHS. I zoned out the TV up to a mind splitting level that was just perfect for an 86 year old. I danced around piles of hoarding while I dreamed of my southern bliss.  Charleston was to me what heaven is to a Christian.  If I’m nice to my mom, if I sacrifice another day to clean, organize and cook, yes I will be granted through the gates of Chuck Town!   My friend Maria said there had to be a reason for this sacrifice. My best friend Ellen said maybe there is no reason?  I made a reason for my suffering here in Oregon out of stubbornness if nothing else. Reason #1 improved health.  I had the budget to concentrate on my diet.  Gramm’s coughed up a lung when I cooked what I thought was amazing green curry.  Maybe a little too much serrano Chile for a senior citizen, lesson learned. The whole families calorie count went down and my burned calories tripled as I tackled the rooms full of a hoarders goodie’s.

 

I also fled the house for an hour to go to a gym six days a week. Nothing can get you to a happy place more than a runners high day after day. Now convincing yourself of that while running on that damn treadmill is a different story.  The muscle pain that leaves you crawling up the stairs, the tendonitis flare up that reminds you that you are in your 30’s and the lack of weight loss in the middle weeks is rough. A more svelte you in the mirror after 10, 30, 60 days is nice!! No spanx for me! 

 

 Reason #2 spark my passion. I joined a writers group. The fantastic Write People. Women I am convinced were the whole karmic point for me to be in Oregon. Life changing inspiring ladies that showed me every Tuesday that life could be lived at any age and doesn’t have to result in becoming a zombie in front of a television. A few wine tasting parties helped that along as well. Nothing like bonding over a dozen bottles of wine to tickle you pink!  Old ladies are a total hoot to get buzzed. I recommend trying it out at the earliest opportunity you can make. A reason to wake up every morning, exercise endorphins pumping through my body and the writer inside of me inspired added up to confidence, health and a positive attitude to make my life amazing! 

 

So the adventure began.