Good Golly, Miss Molly and Goodnight, Irene!

Although Miss Piggy and I kept our ample behinds firmly planted in Charlotte, Dearly Beloved headed for the coast this week.  Yes, he realizes that Irene is going coastal, too.  In fact, that is one of the reasons he went–to batten down the hatches in preparation.

Another reason, he joked, was that he could watch the Little League World Series in peace and quiet, wherever and whenever he wanted–meaning bedroom or sunroom–without having to wrestle me for the remote control.

Have you watched any of those games?  (I’m going to guess “not likely.“)  You can pick out the boys’ moms in the bleachers.  They’re the ones holding their heads in their hands, going nuts from the tension.

I’ve been surprised to hear how many people are watching.  The overflow crowds at the games top 30,000 and the games are televised, so DB isn’t the only one watching.  He has seen enough that he knows the names of boys from Montana to Mexico and believe me, the man is not good on names.

While DB may have complete control of the remote, it’s not like his time is all his own at the beach-house-on-the-beach.  After all, he has Groupies there–the two octogenarian neighbors who live on either side of us.  They are not friends with each other and are fine with minimal contact with me, but DB?  Rock star status.

Both of them have NEIGHdar and can spot his car no matter how quickly he pulls into the garage and closes the door. They always manage to come forth with a list of “a few little things” for him to do whenever he hits town.  I think it’s more the comfort of a familiar face, since both could afford to hire someone… but free IS better.

One of them is out of the state this month, so DB can concentrate on his favorite–the neighbor to our right: in her upper 80’s, hard of hearing and has difficulty walking, but with a positive outlook on life that is refreshing.

When DB hits town, she calls to welcome him back and tell him she’ll sleep better, knowing he’s next door. She has a host of grown children and grandchildren, at least some of whom visit her every day, but she loves talking to DB and, of course, there’s that little list of To Do’s she’s saved just for him.

She invites him over for a drink, but he’d better sip fast because her cocktail hour lasts only about 30 minutes. That’s unfortunate for Dearly Beloved, a slow sipper and a long talker. (Actually, I applaud this because he’s been telling me all these years that he’s not slow, it’s that I’m a fast drinker. I feel validated.)

The evening he arrived, she asked him over for a drink.  She talks about her grown daughters… how they think she’s running a restaurant, they way they walk in and start raiding the refrigerator and eating all of her snacks.  She gestures often with both hands, raising them beside her face, then brushing them downward to show her exasperation.

He, to amuse her, told her about how I had called him a jackass recently.  And of course, she WAS amused, because how could anyone really think Handyman a jackass, right?

The next day when he went outside, she was already out among her potted plants, a white bucket in her hand. She beckoned him over and reeled off some of the things she wanted him to do.  As they walked around to the back, she handed him the bucket she’d been carrying.

One of his To Do’s was to refill her bird feeders.  He removed the cover from the first feeder and asked,  “Where’s the birdseed?”

“It’s in your hand!” she retorted, pointing to the white bucket she had handed him earlier.  She made her exasperated gesture.

“Mary’s right.  You ARE a jackass.” 


Not to worry.  She’s having a Hurricane Party and DB is at the top of her guest list.  In fact, she decided to do it only when she saw him arrive.  The widow up the street is coming and will spend the night, as will some of her daughters.  DB is pussyfooting about giving a formal acceptance, promising only to come over for a quick cocktail. He doesn’t want to get stranded there in the hurricane and be forced to stay for the pajama party.  Besides, there are the Little League games to watch. Now if she had a generator…!

DB has carried in our deck furniture and plants, as well as doing so for those who needed assistance.  We have bottled water, an emergency radio, and flashlight batteries already at the house. He even mentioned making a supermarket run today.  That surprised me, for generally, he opens the pantry door and if he sees cans, he figures he’s stocked.  He would rather eat a can of whateverisinthere than go to the grocery store anytime.

Our neighborhood was designed with a series of interconnected retention ponds.  Most of the time they’re simply water features, but when this kind of weather is forecast, the water levels are lowered to offset any flooding potential.  Winds are another story.

Will I worry?  Oh yeah.  There’s my Dearly Beloved in Wilmington, my stubborn BroJoe in Nags Head, and the Good Egg Son and Daughter-in-Law in Norfolk.  Irene’s projected path up the NE coast to the heavily populated areas looks ugly and mean, something for everyone to worry about.  As my friend Lulu says, we’ll all look forward to singing.

PS.  I e-mailed BroJoe to ask was he evacuating, even though I knew the answer.  He wrote back that he was staying, but he was ready, and offered this reassuring picture.


PPS:  DB has been receiving e-mails from family and friends, asking is he going to ride it out at the beach.  Here is what he responds.

I am.  Mary’s in Charlotte w/burglar alarm on.


17 thoughts on “Good Golly, Miss Molly and Goodnight, Irene!

    1. I should tell you that one is a Democrat, the other a Republican.. one an atheist, the other a devout Catholic… you can spend time with them, just be careful what you talk about! 🙂

  1. And you are the smart one! I love this story it just sounds so familiar and it’s so good to know that I don’t have dibs on the only odd family.
    The hussy next door has a lot of nerve calling your DB a jack ass while asking him to do chores. I have said for years that there would be nothing worse than being the mom of a kid competing at high levels–World Series, Olympics…Superbowl. Because as we all know, no matter how old they are, they will suffer far less before, during and after than their parents will! And the one who suffers the most is always the mom.

    1. Not sure you’re right about the parents. DB was calmer than I was, but I remember being in the stands at one of daughter Pogo’s high school tennis matches. She took a quick drink of water from her squeeze bottle during a match. Her dad anxiously called out from the stands, “Don’t drink too fast! It’ll make you sick!” She laid her racket down, crossed her arms, and fixed him with a laser stare. I moved farther down the bench.

      And remember, HE was the calm one.

      I’m pretty sure it was harder on our kids.

  2. I am quickly growing a soft spot for DB. He sounds like a charmer. I love that the elderly neighbors pounce on him the minute he arrives.

    Sending soft wind wishes his way!

    1. One of the irksome things about Southern infrastructure is that most utility lines are carried along above ground poles, so wind or ice storms play can cause massive power outages. Already, thousands are without power in the area. Fortunately for the Little League watchers, our neighborhood has underground wiring, so the championship games are still on–for now, anyhow.

  3. Okay. Is that a cup holder on BroJoe’s bike? He will probably do better evacuating on a bike in a traffic jam anyway, but still. Good luck to all of you.

  4. Margie

    The wind always seems to be blowing here on the prairies, but it is nothing compared to the hurricanes you people get! Hope all are safe!

    1. Thanks, Margie! A prairie wind is one thing… a tornado is quite another. And then there are earthquakes, the volcanoes, the wildfires, the blizzards, the droughts. Where to go… where to go…! Mother Nature has issues!

  5. We already knew DB was a friend of animals and small children. And that he fearlessly defends hearth and home against snakes and squirrels. Now we learn that he is also the darling of little old ladies. Is there anything that man cannot do?

      1. Ha! At the last dental office where I worked, the office manager said her retired husband called her at work one day and asked where she kept the lettuce. If her husband and DB ever got together, they would both starve!

        Stay safe! Use Miss Piggy for a flotation device if you have to.

  6. Well, I don’t know–I think riding out such a storm is a tad foolhardy.
    Please make sure you let us know if DB is NOT washed away. Of course, hoping that is the denouement of this tale.

  7. Pingback: August 28: Race Your Mouse, Cherry Turnover Day

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