Life is a beach

Allie P. 14 Comments

It’s been a while. I could explain, but I won’t. At least I won’t/can’t today.

Oak Island collage - www.alliepottswrites.com

Oak Island, North Carolina

Taking a break from the heat (and maybe a few other things I am beginning to associate with June) I went to the beach with my family and my sisters’ families for some much-needed rest and relaxation (or as much rest and relaxation as you can expect when you are traveling with seven kids 10-years-old and under and three dogs).

We’d picked out the home shortly after the new year. That had been a whole stressful process in and of itself, requiring lengthy negotiations and more than a few compromises, but it checked the major boxes. It had beds for us all (or so the ad claimed) with a pool as well as an oceanfront view and beach access.

On paper it was perfect.

In reality, not quite. The beach access was not directly across the street as it had appeared in the photographs and at some point, the owners had replaced bunk beds with queen-size meaning several of the kids would have to enjoy even more cousin time, but it served its purpose.

We arrived in mass with cars loaded up like the opening credits of the old show Beverly Hillbillies. All that we were lacking was our family matriarch riding in a rocking chair up top (she’d wisely driven separately). We divided rooms and filled the cabinets with a week’s worth of groceries while the cousins darted around and attempted to keep watch of the various canines.

The first day went great, the second too (the nights on the other hand – not so much). However, storms rolled in mid-week and the combination of early-week sunburns, over-tired small people forced to share beds, a flare-up of a stubborn ear infection, and more than one instance of a pup bolting from the house very nearly become a decorative hood ornament on a passing car, caused my sisters to consider calling it a week early.

Sunset over the dunes - www.alliepottswrites.com

Sunset over the dunes

I chose to stay and volunteered to watch a couple of my nieces on the beach while their parents packed. Sunglasses on, book nearby, and beach chair out, I prepared the soak in the last rays of stress-free (or at least stress-lite) living. It didn’t last long.

A niece marched up to me crying. Her eyes stung. Hastily applied sunscreen had mixed with saltwater, rendering her blind, and in pain. She couldn’t see or swim. The sand was no fun. She wanted to go back to the house and she wanted to go now.

I looked over my shoulder. I could see the house over the dunes. We hadn’t been gone nearly long enough for my sister to pack their stuff away and clean. I did the only thing I could. I handed her a towel. She complained her eyes still hurt. I grabbed a bottle of freshwater and instructed her to tilt her head, while I splashed her face.

“Now dab,” I said.

“Dab?” she asked.

“Yeah dab,” I said again, gesturing at the towel in her hands.

“Okay…” she replied. But instead of drying her eyes, she lowered her face and swung both arms out, parallel to each other, in pure celebratory fashion.

In short, she dabbed.

I couldn’t help it. I cracked up. Leave it to the younger set to take a perfectly good simple instruction and interpret it in a way you’d never see coming.

It might have been the freshwater rinse. It might have been the trendy move, but in either event, the smile returned to my niece’s face. She turned and the others where they built sandcastles in the surf until noon.

It wasn’t a perfect trip, and it’s been far from the perfect summer, but moments like these prove that there are still plenty of reasons to laugh, even with things aren’t as expected.

chasing the tide - www.alliepottswrites.com

chasing the tide

It also illustrates one final universal truth, which is:

A day at the beach beats a day in the office almost every time.

 

The Outdoorsy App: A Non-Review Review

Allie P. 18 Comments

The best part about the kids being in a scouting program is the excuse it gives us to get out into the great outdoors. The worst part about scouting is then sleeping out there.

After a series of shivering through near-freezing nights and huddling under nothing but a thin piece of treated nylon during thunderstorms, I decided that as much as I enjoy hiking, it might be nice to actually stay under a real roof during our next trip to the mountains. Luckily for me, my other half mentioned he was thinking the same thing.

He told me about an app he’d found called Outdoorsy.

Think of it like Lyft/Uber meets Airbnb/HomeAway. Only, instead of it being a ride-sharing program or app to let you rent out an unused room, you can use it to turn that depreciating asset/eyesore you call a recreational vehicle parked out front into a potential profit center. It also gives a person like me, the chance to actually try to see if RVing is the way to travel.

1998 Coleman Mesa – our home away from home for the weekend

It may be the fact that I live in an urban area and am centrally located between the mountains and the sea, but there were more than a few options for us to choose from when planning our trip. In the end, we decided to go with a 1998 Coleman Mesa pop-up trailer, which, thanks to its low profile, would allow us to travel around the sharp turns of the Blue Ridge Parkway and under NC’s historic stone bridges with ease.

It would also mean we would have a regular sized vehicle during the long weekend for taking us from one trailhead to the next. We thought that extra vehicle would be our truck.

Unfortunately, the holiday weekend meant we weren’t the only ones to hit the road for the weekend. Unseasonable highs hadn’t helped either as people, like us, sought higher ground and cooler temperatures.

We’d been stuck in slow-moving traffic for more than a couple of hours when suddenly the check engine light appeared on the dash. The truck began to groan. If that wasn’t bad enough, we were at the base of the mountains by this point, meaning our cell reception had already begun to degrade.

My other half looked none-to-pleased. He’d just gotten the truck, which is still relatively brand new, checked out by a mechanic prior to our departure. We pushed on, but at a slower, more careful rate. What choice did we have?

Her Royal Highness Approves

We finally limped into the campgrounds where my mom and stepdad (who’d had the foresight to drive separately) sat waiting. The sun hung low in the sky–too low to worry about pesky details like how we were going get home. We sprang into action. One crank raised the roof. Another lowered stabilizing blocks. We sweated in the effort, but it made me glad our rental harkened from good old 1998 when vehicle systems were still more mechanical than computer driven.

The most challenging part about the setup was figuring out where the various poles needed to shape the more tent-like portion of the camper, especially as the sun had fully set by this point, but even that didn’t take too terribly long. Soon we were settling in for a much deserved night’s rest.

Did I sleep better than I might in my regular tent? You bet I did. Though the camper shook anytime someone tried to sneak outdoors to … er… commune with nature, I remained thankful for the mattress under my back and the solid walls that could protect us against any unexpected change in weather.

We spent the weekend hiking and enjoying food cooked over the open flames of a campfire. My kids spotted waterfalls and at least pretended to be interested when the park ranger regaled us with the story of how the river running beside us got its name. Spoiler – it was violent.

Then it was time to return home. Cranks were turned in the opposite direction and support bars were safely stowed. The truck even managed to get us back home. Then all we had to do was drop the keys and the camper back with its rightful owner.

Would I use the Outdoorsy app again? Absolutely. I only wish I could give our truck an equally high rating.

Here are some additional pictures from our trip, which I hope you will enjoy:

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The one thing you can trust about SPAM is it never spoils

Allie P. 11 Comments

I made a promise. It was a promise I thought would be easy to keep. I was wrong.

I told a friend that I’d wait to see Avengers: Endgame with her, and then she went and got sick, so now I’m having to go to some extreme lengths to avoid spoilers – like actually reading the contents of my spam folder. Lucky for me, it’s proven to be entertaining. Not as entertaining as, say, seeing how the storylines of more than twenty movies can be resolved in a single cinematic-marvel. But entertaining in its own way all the same.

I thought I would share some of my favorites.

“I’m envious. Seems like every time I come back to your website you have a new interesting thing for me to read. How do you stay so motivated? Do you research all of these posts before posting?”

This comment was attached to a post I’d written about the different tools I’ve used for ebook conversion so I might have approved it if the link and user name attached hadn’t been a red flag.  That said, even knowing the compliment wasn’t genuine, it was a bummer to send it to the discard pile. After all, I’d worked hard on that post (and yes, not only had I researched all the products, I’d used them extensively too)

“I together with my guys were reading through the good tricks found on your site and immediately developed a horrible feeling I never expressed respect to the blog owner for those techniques. Most of the young boys became totally glad to read through all of them and have clearly been tapping into these things. Appreciation for really being really helpful as well as for pick out these kinds of exceptional things most people are really desperate to learn about. Our honest apologies for not expressing appreciation to earlier.”

Someone sent in this comment after reading a funny story I’d written about waking up in the middle of the night thinking there was an intruder in my house, when in fact it was only my robotic vacuum cleaner. In case you are curious, I no longer have it run at night as it clearly cannot be trusted. I also have no idea what things the young boys, referenced by the commenter, are tapping into.

“Throughout this awesome pattern of things you actually secure a B- just for effort. Exactly where you confused everybody was first in the particulars. You know, people say, the devil is in the details… And that could not be much more correct at this point. Having said that, let me say to you what exactly did work. The article (parts of it) is definitely incredibly engaging which is most likely why I am making an effort in order to comment. I do not make it a regular habit of doing that. Secondly, even though I can notice the jumps in reasoning you make, I am not convinced of how you appear to unite your ideas which make the final result. For right now I shall subscribe to your point however trust in the future you connect the facts much better.”

B-, just for effort? Ouch. However, considering this comment was placed on one of Her Royal Highness’ letters to her loyal subjects, I’ll leave it up to the monarchy to address its particular feedback.

“It’s a shame you don’t have a donate button! I’d definitely donate to this superb blog! I guess for now i’ll settle for book-marking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account. I look forward to fresh updates and will talk about this website with my Facebook group. Talk soon!”

Actually, I do have a donate button, I’m glad you mentioned it. It’s at the bottom of my About me page. It’s been there for years, though I don’t make a big deal about it, so completely understand why you missed it. However, now that you know about it, feel free to click on it and spot me cup of coffee. Talk soon!

And then there was this…

“Hey, how’s it going?”

I like how this one starts out. It’s like we know each other or something. But then things take a turn. (This is why I moderate comments)

“The power that runs the world wants to put a RFID microchip in our body making us total slaves to them. This chip matches perfectly with the Mark of the Beast in the Bible, more specifically in Revelation 13:16-18:

“He causes all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hand or on their foreheads, and that no one may buy or sell except one who has the mark or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.

Here is wisdom. Let him who has understanding calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man: His number is 666.”

It keeps going.

“Referring to the last days, this could only be speaking of a cashless society, which we have yet to see, but are heading towards. Otherwise, we could still buy or sell without the mark amongst others if physical money was still currency. This Mark couldn’t be spiritual because the word references two different physical locations. If it was spiritual it would just say in the forehead. RFID microchip implant technology will be the future of a one world cashless society containing digital currency. It will be implanted in the right-hand or the forehead, and we cannot buy or sell without it! We must grow strong in Jesus. AT ALL COSTS, DO NOT TAKE IT!

“Then a third angel followed them, saying with a loud voice, “If anyone worships the beast and his image, and receives his mark on his forehead or on his hand, he himself shall also drink of the wine of the wrath of God, which is poured out full strength into the cup of His indignation. He shall be tormented with fire and brimstone in the presence of the holy angels and in the presence of the Lamb. And the smoke of their torment ascends forever and ever; and they have no rest day or night, who worship the beast and his image, and whoever receives the mark of his name” (Revelation 14:9-11).”

Ummmm… okay…

“If you haven’t already, it is time to seek God with all your heart. Jesus loves you more than you could imagine. He wants to have a relationship with you and redeem you from your sins. Turn to Him and repent while there is still hope! God bless!”

Shew. That’s a relief. Here I was starting to worry.

So, apparently, the end is nigh. Good thing I’ve already made peace with our soon to be robotic overloads, however, this is yet another reason my friend needs to get off her sick-bed sooner rather than later. Please get better! We’re running out of time.

I Managed to See a Movie! (My Shazam Review)

Allie P. 33 Comments

A 30-second preview was all it took to convince my ten-year-old son that Shazam was a movie we absolutely, positively, had to see. It didn’t take much to convince me. I love superheroes. My other half… well let’s just say that the heroes he prefers to watch on the big screen typically prefer military fatigues to capes and tights. More importantly, I couldn’t help thinking that soon he’d rather watch movies with his friends than me.

If you aren’t familiar with the film, Shazam about a fourteen-year-old foster child, named Billy, who is given the wisdom of Solomon, the strength of Hercules, the stamina of Atlas, the power of Zeus, the courage of Achilles, and the speed of Mercury (or S.H.A.Z.A.M), as well as the body of an adult. It’s also set in the same world as Batman, Superman, and Wonder Woman. As a result, the characters are less motivated to find out how to use Billy’s new powers for the greater good (because saving the world is already covered by the more experienced heroes), then how they can use them to get out of school work (and other things).

Billy has no clue about the extent of his powers, and the series of trials by fire (literally, in one case) to test his limits. This caused me to laugh out loud several times throughout the movie. However, there is also a much more serious side to the film centered around the definition of home, family, and the impact a parent can have on their child. To avoid spoilers, I won’t go into it, but be warned there are scenes where a couple of the characters learn their parents aren’t without flaws–some more severe than others.

During one of these scenes, I couldn’t help thinking that there was some cosmic irony at play, considering I’d made such the point to see this movie, of all movies, with my son. I snuck a peek at my offspring. How was he handling it? I wanted to reach for his hand and have him nestle his head on my side like he used to do whenever he was confused or afraid, but he didn’t appear to be either of those things. Guess, my son is growing up even faster than I wanted to admit.

I returned my attention to the reason my wallet was thirty dollars lighter than it had been the day before (this is also one of the reasons I don’t write very many first-run movie reviews). Superhero meets Super-villain. Cue the fighting sequences, collateral damage, monologues, and epiphanies one expects at these sort of things.

Shazam, in many ways, is a film mirroring its central character. Like the fourteen-to-fifteen-year-old kid on the screen, the movie doesn’t seem to know what it wants to be when it grows up. It’s not a comedy, but its not an action movie, or completely family-friendly fare either. There’s cursing, monsters, and more than one random death that sort of comes out of nowhere. As a result, there were more than a few times I was glad I’d left my younger son at home.

It may not have the hype of Avengers: Endgame (or the bankroll), but it still has plenty of heart and better executed than some of the other DC movies I’ve seen (*cough* Dawn of Justice *cough* Suicide Squad *cough*). Therefore, I’m glad I took the time to see it in the theater, even if the person I saw it with made it an even better experience than watching what played out on the screen alone.

Oh, the joys of home ownership

Allie P. 11 Comments

Some writers prefer music in the background, saying it helps to get them in the proper mood. I’m not one of them. I get distracted enough by the random deer that walks by my window or hawk that lands in our new trees, so when one of the smoke detectors began chirping a few days ago, it was hardly something I could pretend not to hear.

However, the battery wasn’t quite dead.

Miracle Max the Wizard: He’s only mostly dead. If he were all dead, there’s only one thing you can do.
Inigo Montoya: And what’s that?
Miracle Max the Wizard: Go through his pockets and look for loose change.

This meant the tone sounded in occasional bursts. In addition, thanks to building codes where I live requiring a detector in any room remotely resembling a bedroom (and then some), there were several alarms to choose from. Therefore, it was difficult to determine which one was the culprit. I would stand under one for minutes, only to not hear another beep until I was back in my office, writing away.

As a result, My husband and I decided it would be best if we updated all of the devices, rather than continue to locate and troubleshoot just the one.

One would think this would be a simple matter of swapping out a battery. One would be wrong.

He pulled out a ladder as I readied the 9 volts. Suddenly EVERY SINGLE ALARM in the house was going off and there was nothing we could do to get it to stop. Oh sure, each individual sensor had a lovely button that claimed you could silence the madness, but remove your finger from the button… beep… beep… BEEEEEEPPPP!!! In stereo. Connected networks are great until all devices are screaming in unison.

Our sanity began to unravel as high-pitched electronic torture blared from all directions. Our kids stumbled out of their bedrooms with their hands covering their ears demanding we make it stop. Oh, my children… if we only could…

Grabbing our phones we each tried desperately to look up the make and model of our system’s installation instructions. What had we done wrong? The proximity to the alarm, however, had caused my vision to blur, making the tiny instructions on a mobile screen nearly impossible to decipher.

Her Royal Highness tucked her tail between her legs and fled as I stood, like the statue of liberty, with phone clutched and arm raised, as I pressed the tiny button that was our only protection against the madness. A light on the device turned yellow. That was different. Then green. I blinked. Had I stumbled upon our salvation. I braced myself against the potential audible onslaught and let go. However, the device remained silent. I called out to my husband with my discovery.

He picked up another of the offending devices and snapped it back onto its ceiling mount. The light blinked as the battery case slid into position. Our eyes widened. We’d finally done it–

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!

Or not.

Seeing no other choice, we did the only thing we could think of in the situation. We took the dastardly device off the ceiling. Thankfully, the LEDs on the house’s other sensors magically turned a happy green and peace descended once again upon the land. Oh, joyous day.

The nightmare was over for now, but unfortunately, I know that one day, in the not too distant future, I’ll need to return it to its home (it’s kind of the whole point of this fire safety thing). I know this, and yet all I can do is shudder.