First things first, putting last post’s subject to bed, so to speak.

(It was about the eclipse.  Oh, go ahead and read it…)

For our experiencing The Eclipse, instead of that stern looking pier we scoped-out three weeks ago now, we opted for a very pleasant lakeside public park in the same vicinity, which we had also previously scoped.

Stephen had the very sweet notion that everyone on the East Coast was as eager to see a total eclipse as he, and those people would be flocking to South Carolina for the sight.

Having arrived at our park early to avoid his envisioned but not materializing one bit traffic gridlock, we decided to travel fifteen miles further into the ‘perfect viewing zone’ to Abbeville SC just for a look.

Abbeville (established in 1764) has the distinction of bookending the existence of the Confederate States of America, as it is the location of both the launch of South Carolina’s secession from the Union, and Confederacy President Jefferson Davis’ official dissolution of the Confederacy at it’s last official cabinet meeting there.  Hefty credentials, no?

An eclipse-viewing festival was in fact forming-up there, but we decided to return to our park, which collected only a mere four other couples as the eclipse drew near.

SO, the eclipse.

Voluminous clouds which forebodingly formed prior the eclipse getting underway had parted with the exception, during the very final stages, of one discreet puff which blocked the sun.  Like the cheapest little tease, it lingered there until just before the eclipse popped.

‘Popped’?  Because the approach to totality is so protracted, one finally assumes ever so briefly ‘Is that all there is?’ the instant before the black disk of the photographs you see materializes within the space of about a second.

I gasped.  Audibly.  Worth every bit of our effort to witness it.

Now, on to another event which, let’s face it, was probably less likely to have happened than witnessing a total solar eclipse in my lifetime.  Day before yesterday, I drove to Savannah GA to meet the elusive Harper’s Other Dad, and the illustrious Ur-Spo, with whom I’ve been blog pals for eight years.

I must tell you that in spite of having seen both move and speak online, in the flesh, in the crisp light of day, they were very briefly kind of holographic.

I did not gasp, but perhaps sensing my dumbfoundment(!), we hied ourselves to lunch just down the street, during which I tried (unsuccessfully) to behave myself: I am in point of fact incapable of answering a question without a story.

THE loveliest gentlemen, I departed their company four hours later.  At risk of sounding this way or that, I confess that I was more than a bit ‘postpartum’ yesterday.

Life is very screwy.

Here we are, all sqwoze into a selfie.  [Clickable]

Advertisements