Dateline...Beaufort NC May 13th 2012

Beaufort: bikes, boats, sea, sky & fun-loving people

By the time you read this, the 24th Annual Music Festival will be complete.  Dancing feet are tired, mural-painting artists are recovering--and  around town, there may be one or two tiny hang-overs.

Weather? Made to order and perfect. Carolina blue sky, just enough breeze and temperatures in the 70's and 80's.  No rain.

Festival goers came by boat, by car, by bike, by horse-drawn carriage and  rickshaw.

I'll not go into all the details about all the great musicians that appeared on Beaufort's stages, but every year, just when I think they couldn't possibly top last year's talented performers, along comes a line-up that excites me even more.  How the festival folks do it, year after year, is beyond belief.

The closing acts on both Friday night and Saturday night were spectacular, yes?  Old Man Markley from California on Friday—yowza—punk and blue grass!  Amazing performances, what fiddling and picking and vocals.

The Austin-based Gourds on Saturday night—wow, wow, wow.  Alternative country doesn't begin to describe their sound. Their music had so many elements going on—rock and punk and even yodeling.  A wild mix. Got to dance to that sound—my blisters attest to that.  Thank you, musicians, one and all. We love you. Thank you Festival-makers!  You're the best.

Beaufort NC—Voted Coolest Small Town in America

Beaufort Friends of the Library iconic little red book wagon

Yep, we've been busting our buttons ever since we won that designation from Budget Travel magazine.  Okay, to be perfectly above-board, we did tie with a sweet town somewhere in New York, but Beaufort was ahead in the voting by a slender margin when the magazine's computers crashed and they decided to declare Beaufort tied for first place with that dear little town somewhere in New York.

But as we were ahead  when their computers crashed...well,  from my point of view, we can claim the 1st place mantle ...sorry, cute little NY town.

What makes Beaufort so cool?  
Let's see what our artists say.

Seventeen of them took part in the Beaufort Sister City Mural Painting Contest this past weekend.  The theme was Beaufort: Coolest Small Town in America. They portrayed our coolness in the water, by the water, from the water—with people, wild horses, boats, familiar places, scenes of sea and sky, pelicans, sun, more boats, large and small.  Dancers rocking to the tunes, our beloved red double-decker tour bus, street-scapes, window-scapes...

You be the judge of who captured “Cool Beaufort” the best.  Me?  I'm not telling.  I loved each and every mural.  Sure glad I wasn't a judge.  All the murals were fantastic—I'd be proud to have any of the paintings brightening my walls.

Take a look at their murals—how would you have voted???

For this mural?

Maybe this one will win...it's "cool."

This artist and horse are eager for your vote.

Another refreshingly cool painting.

Does this pretty mural earn your vote?

Row, row row your dinghy...

Very Beaufort...does this get your nod?

Wow,  it's "Beaufort Time"...did you vote for this creative painting with clock?

Artist working hard to win your vote..

Oh my, this is so cool.  Tiny bubbles...

Beautiful.  Will this one win?

A window on a cool town.  Will this one win?

Loving the colors--and the happy boaters.  A winner?

Hop aboard...playful and fun..just like Beaufort.

Another tempting work of art.

Don't vote for the one above--it's a photo of the Beaufort Docks...a reminder to slow down and smell the sea--and flowers.

Come stroll and  bicycle our quaint streets, eat at a waterfront cafe, paddle in our clear waters, collect shells, dance to our musicians, lift a pint or two of grog, savor a cone of home-made ice-cream...

And above all else...be the very cool person that you are.

Hope to see you this summer,

hugs,

Patti

Join the forum discussion on this post

As we leave the path - from April's reign
And nudge the gate - to the next domain
The squeaking hinges - announce we've arrived
Into the gifted gardens - that this year contrived...

At May's gentle beauty - the Month is a blossom
In every possible display - of colors totally awesome
A gift of such earthen beauty - to shower us in its way
To present a joy to all - That is our Month of May....

--C. G. Mack

Okay, by now most of you have seen the infomercials for PajamaJeans®.  And maybe, like me, you've been curious what they're really like. Are they more like PJ's, or more like jeans?

Me, I was curious, for when you work at home, as I do, trying to find  clothing that goes from bed to computer to grocery store can be challenging.  Every day turns into casual Friday.  But just how casual...for one doesn't want to offend  community standards.

Admittedly, those standards can be quite relaxed

With my own eyes, I've seen morning shoppers at my neighborhood Piggly Wiggly in pursuit of their cheese biscuits wearing coats with the hems of their nighties peeking under, their feet covered with fuzzy slippers.  So far I've not yet made my casual Friday THAT casual--at least outside the privacy of  home. Inside's a different can of beans. If you come to the door while I'm in hot pursuit of a deadline, you'd best be prepared for...well, never mind, I'm sure you've been there. You don't need the juicy details. Let's just say at times home is where the slob is.

I worry about this

Dressing for success has flown way out the window since I traded in an advertising career in city offices for my home office and the free-lance writing life in my tiny village. The right outfit for word-working at home has proved elusive. Too often, sweats are my work clothes. Not good.  Not flattering. Was coat over nightie soon to be my next step into the clothing hall of shame??

Maybe that's why I read the e-mail from the public relations company with particular interest. Their email told me details about the same PajamaJeans I'd seen on TV.  When I saw their offer to send me a pair for a test-drive,  my fingers tap-tapped out a quick reply of yes.  I mean, who wouldn't?  Free clothes? Clothes fresh from an infomercial on my TV?

“Well, sure, definitely,”  I replied, “send away, size 10, please.”

Time passes, as it does, but sooner, rather than later, came a tidy package in my mailbox. I squeezed the envelope; it's soft like Charmin. I wonder, “what could this be?  Another of my forgotten internet purchases?  Have I been sleep-shopping again?  But looking at the return address, I know the truth--it's my PajamaJeans! What fun. New clothes without a charge appearing on my next credit card statement.

Joy is mine.

Careful not to snip the garment inside with my wayward scissors, I cautiously open the envelope to reveal my PajamaJeans.  Hmm.  Not bad, I think.  Soft material kind of like sweatpants, but with more body, more personality. The stitching on the dark navy fabric and the sassy brass rivets on the pockets smartly mimic denim jeans.  I look at the label.  Size medium.  95% cotton, 5% Spandex.  I like cotton, it breathes.

I run my hand over the fabric, it's a medium weight, lighter than sweats, softer than denim.  My new Pajama Jeans feel cozy. Plush. Kind of like a Bichon Frise puppy after it's newly shorn.

I'm eager to try them on

Eager for a test run, the moment of truth where the rubber meets the road—or the cotton and Spandex meet flesh, I slip them on—or try to. There's no slipping. A bit of a struggle ensues as they are sans zipper, instead closed with a bright pink drawstring.  But I ease them up over my hips, my derriere, doing the wiggle we women  know so well when donning snug clothes and wow!  They fit like a glove.  Snug but not binding as regular form-fitting jeans too often are.  I like them.

I go to the mirror

Casting a critical eye from bow to stern, I'm pleased.  (No, that isn't me in the photo! I'm brunette.)

While the PajamaJeans embrace my curves, they also seem to contain and shape them—for this I am thankful.  The fit must be due to the 5% Spandex, I'm thinking.  My caboose hasn't morphed into an entire freight train.  Thank you, Spandex, for the compression, the lift.

Enough private time with my PajamaJeans—let's debut them in public. I trot over to Piggly Wiggly where friends and neighbors are often found. It is here I'll discover if anyone stares or falls over laughing to see me wearing an infomercial.  I do run into several folks I know, but no one comments, no one stares, it's business as usual.  So far so good.

Now for the Ultimate Test

What will my friends think?  My next public foray takes me to a rite of Spring when BFF Patty  inaugurates her screened porch by inviting me and our mutual BFF, Constance, over for a gourmet meal on the same aforementioned porch.  Since Patty is the most sublime chef I know, straight from the pages of Bon Appétit, only better, and I know I'm going to feast, I  want to make sure I'm wearing something...expandable.

“This,” I think, “is a job for PajamaJeans."

So I wear them.

Will they still be comfortable after a three-four course lunch and some bubbly?  Will the discerning eyes of Patty and Constance catch me out in my PajamaJeans and tease me unmercifully?  This is the supreme test, the pinnacle Olympian moment for PajamaJeans. They and I are going for the gold.

Okay,  now I'm porch-sitting in my PajamaJeans

I've polished off the appetizer of petite sauteed fresh herb and squash patties with the Greek tzatziki dipping sauce, the buttery grilled eggplant over the baby mixed greens has gone down my happy gullet, my grilled shrimp with young asparagus and black rice sparked with a tangy remoulade sauce that had my mouth dancing have all disappeared.  We've liberated the contents from several bottles of bubbly, and now we're dipping the first ruby strawberries of the season into a dark lake of warm bitter-sweet chocolate.

I sigh. I'm full, replete with the happiness of good sistership, great food, and free-ranging belly laughs. Through it all my PajamaJeans have remained my pal—they do not bind, cut or chafe in the least. They continue to gently hug my now somewhat curvier curves. We're laughing our heads off, deadlines forgotten, while we plan our dream trip to Italy.

It is then that I tip my hand  

I stand up and say, “So, women, what do you think?  I'm wearing PajamaJeans!!”  I expect their jaws to drop and the jokes to begin, but no!  They're remarkably calm and collected.  They say, “Never would have guessed...they look just like a pair of well-fitting stretch jeans.” My friends reach out to touch the fabric; they make complimentary murmurs of appreciation for its softness.

Patty suggests, “Maybe they should make them out of colors other than navy.”  Constance, adds, “I'd buy them; they're a good fit.”

So there you have it.  The final test drive of the Pajama Jeans has found us in the Winners Circle.  Not only did the PajamaJeans pass muster at Piggly Wiggly--they passed the more rigorous muster of Constance and Patty.

Me?  I adore my PajamaJeans. I could sleep in them, but I won't.  I want to keep them for dress-up.  For more lunches with Constance and Patty. More imaginary trips to Italy.

My only suggestion? Ditch the bright pink drawstring and make it navy or black.  Unless you tuck the tie carefully into the waistband of the jeans, its pinkness can reveal the fact that you're wearing PajamaJeans.  Not that I'm at all embarrassed to be wearing them, but let's keep this our little secret just between you and me.

Deal?

Think about this: 

Could you cut off all your connectivity from your cell  phone, smart phone, notebook, computers, and all other electronic hand-held devices?  An unplugged life.

Could you live without e-mail, texts, sexts, Tweets, YouTube, Facebook, Linked-in, and mobile messaging?

Inconceivable, you say?  Horrible and isolating?  The end of your personal, business, friendship and love life? Your pulse is in a panic, your heart's beating triple-time just thinking about it, let alone taking any action?

Join the crowd--you're a full-fledged member of the distracted nation. Many of us are so plugged in these days that we're forgetting how to have face-to-face conversations without our fingers and minds performing actions other than what our mouths are saying.

Is this a problem?

Some sociologists and psychologists says yes—we've become a nation of distracted, multi-tasking, text-mad, cyber-gobbling addicts.  Others shrug and say, "So what?  This is what life's like. Live with it."

Me, I don't know...could I live without Google and information?  Am I an information junkie?  Maybe so.  I worry about this.  So much time spent on the 'net.  Sometimes the ring of the phone annoys me—interrupting my Google searches and 'net reading.  Email me if you want to reach me. This cannot be good.

Too much time on Facebook instead of real face time with friends is beginning to worry me, too.  Sure, I've seen your posted vacation pictures—have you seen mine? But what are you thinking—and feeling?  How are you...really?

Distracted. Rarely am I here

I grew up with philosopher-gurus such as Ram Dass who urged us to "Be here now," and I've books on my bookshelf such as Eckhart Tolle's The Power of Now. But rarely am I  “here now”  any more.  How could I be when I'm over there—keyboarding in cyber space?

Have I become way too personal with my personal computer? Surely it's become my greatest source of information—and entertainment.

Up until now I've avoided smart phone ownership.  The hand-writing's on the wall--I'd always be connected, every second, everywhere I go on by my electronic leash.  Seems I'm wired that way.  Many of us are.

I'd be just like the character in a science fiction short story I read years ago—was it by Asimov?  The tale told of a boy nerd who loved his personal computer so very much.  He spent every waking minute on it.  As this story was written was years before personal computers were in existence--the story was quite prescient.

All their son's computing time worried his parents.  The boy would hardly eat, wasn't sleeping.  The boy's parents hovered worriedly at his door. The boy waved his parents away. "Not a problem," he assured them.

But his parents had reason to worry. One morning, they went into the boy's room and found the computer's cable had entered their son's body— he was permanently wired into his personal computer.  They had become one.

Like the boy, have we become permanently wired into our electronic devices? 

Has social media replaced human relationships in real time? Jake Reilly, a 24-year-old college student, thought so.  So he set up a 90 day personal experiment he called "Going Amish" to remove himself from all electronic communications--including social media.

Reilly viewed Facebook as a "total waste of time, because everyone is just presenting such a filtered picture of themselves...it's superficiality on top of superficiality. You never get to see the real parts of people."

So here's what he did:  He "called Verizon and suspended service for his cell phone. Deactivated Facebook, deactivated Twitter, deactivated Linked-In, deactivated Spotify, and anything where there was a social component. He put up an out-of-office on both of his email accounts, saying, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I won't receive this until the end of the year."

And the results?  Some angry friends who proved maybe not so close as he'd thought, some damage to his social life when he couldn't give a girl his cell phone number--or call her on hers.

Unplugged, Jake had to get creative to stay in touch, stay connected.  Most methods he used were decidedly low-tech--pebbles thrown at their windows, chalked messages on the sidewalk outside their apartments and offices. Even old-fashioned letter writing mailed via snail mail.

The lessons Jake learned from “Going Amish” were surprising—and varied.  Learning how to play.  Reaping great gobs of free time for living his life...rekindling a lost romance...

Read the full interview with Jake by a Yahoo correspondent here.
See the video Jake, the plug-puller, made here.

Be here now—and join the conversation

Have we become an Un-social Nation—the Distracted Nation?  Do smart phones, texts, e-mails, Facebook and other "social media" harm—or help—our human relationships?  Are we too connected by social media and too little by real time social lives?

Do  smart phones make us smarter—or dumber??

Do you worry about being too plugged in?

What do you think? 

Let's talk about it. Please register and post your comments.

##

We had a neighborhood Grandad - who taught us cute tricks

He made a great water gun - from bush branches and sticks

Back when we were tiny -we would hold OREO meetings

How to twist open an OREO - and high-sign a cream greeting

Now that we are much older - we still do lick off the cream

Though we finally have learned - life's not all that we seemed

All along Gramps was scraping - his OREO cream every day

Just to feed some pet bees - in a hive he had hidden away...

--C.G. Mack

Folks  around here - have been looking for snow
Based on prior years - where did our snow go ?

The skis are all waxed - the snow boards are ready
Our plans and objectives - have been loyal and steady

The "forces" of nature - we hope will be kind
And provide the conditions - that we hope to find....

--C. G. Mack

Jack was Nimble - Jack was Quick
He'd jump anything - to show a trick

His stated goal - to avoid some cold
Was to skip a month - a role quite bold

But Mother Nature's rule - to use Common Sense
Go through each month - in the right sequence....

--C. G. Mack

I thought I'd take - just the tiniest peek
At how January - might start next week
Good research - comes to the wise
To know in advance - brings no surprise

So I pressed my nose - on an ancient crack
In January's door - but I soon jumped back

The scene was fully - blowing ice and snow
Snow Bunny pals - said, "'Tis the way to go."

--C. G. Mack

December already—how fast the days move this time of year. Fast-forward, our days speed ahead from feasting on turkey with family and friends on Thanksgiving—that most congenial of holidays—to this hectic time of gift-gathering.

That is, if one celebrates Christmas.  At my house, we're opted out.  With no 'young-un's' expecting gifts, we've hunkered down with piles of tempting books and mugs of hot chocolate. I'm diving into Steinbeck's Log from the Sea of Cortez and after that I'm going to re-visit Grapes of Wrath. Given the shape the economy's in, I figured maybe I could pick up some pointers within its pages.

Turning our back on the the clarion call to shop and buy, we're instead celebrating these days and nights of decreased light with a peaceful inner light that says seasons greetings in a more elemental way.

All summer long, I'd craved these quiet nights of early darkness and hot chocolate

Piling on quilts and comforters, reading in bed while the world snoozes, with no buzz of mosquito or fly to interrupt my travels with Steinbeck.

Answering my body's cry for carbs, I make a hearty potato soup, bake bread, pile on the pasta.  Who am I to resist what nature calls me to do.  After all, doesn't she know best?

For the antidote for carb-fired fat gain, I force myself from hearth and home and bicycle to the gym to do penance on the treadmill and elliptical. See me go,  chubby little hamster.  Run carb lady, run.

Soon comes the winter solstice

The shortest day of the year, when light and darkness are equally balanced.  There's a magic there I do love. The candles in our windows shine forth, we decorate our homes with Christmas lights, light the eight candles of Hanukkah's Festival of Light menorah—we acknowledge, we celebrate and welcome the miracle of the coming of the light.

We throw another Yule log on the fire and gaze into the ancient blaze.  The dog and cat come and huddle close enough to sizzle fur, their eyes drowsy with contentment.

Our flames and lights shine forth, inside and outside our homes.  We've survived the darkness.  Here once again, come the longer days of light.

Each dear family member and friend is the flame that warms me just now

True, they warm me all through the year, but most especially now. These days of darkness, when it's shivery cold and that North winds blows with a bite, I'm protected by their laughter, the time we find to spend together.  Our conversations that range wide and free. Lost in giggles, or lost in thought, we travel far.

Maybe this is why the call to seasonal shopping leaves me cold   All year I think of them, and they of me.  We give each other little gifts.  Maybe a book.  A newspaper clipping of interest.  A loaf of banana bread. A link to a funny video we know will make them laugh.

My world would indeed be dark without their brilliance. Since I cannot find 'friendship,' 'love,' 'grace,' or 'laughter,' at the mall or in any cyber store I've yet located, I turn my back on this particular shopping season and instead put the water on to boil for the tea pot.

Bad consumer am I

Nothing that requires batteries will be sent from my household to yours.  No waffle irons or anything that slices, dices or chops.  The Gross National Product will just have to slouch along without me.  I'm investing in Gross Personal Friendship.

You know who you are.  I love you.  A  big hug, wrapped in red ribbons, is saved, just for you. Seasons Greetings.

Bring on the light.

Christmas Eve is suddenly here - seems earlier a bit this year
We barely got our tree all trimmed - had to make each bulb appear

With children into slumber land - and gift placement plan concluded
Those toasting a job well done - smug not among the Santa deluded

Warm relations whisk about - that this Evening always lends
With a growing festive air - among the relatives and friends

We suspect one person there - counted gifts on tree and floor
Hoping a morning count revealed - that little "Chubby Guy" left more....

--C. G. Mack