Postcards from South Carolina

[Rex_Tremende]

I just returned from vacation. Here are a few pictorial and word scenes from the week to share with you.

Before my electric was restored after even a week’s time, my best chum and I drove down to Fripp Island, South Carolina, where I rented a house on the beach for a full week of R&R.

The house was situated on the widest part of the beach. It was maybe a five-minute walk across the dunes to where the waves broke over the shoal.

I have to say that the Utilikilt is particularly well suited to long walks along wind-swept beaches on chilly days.

Being the off-season, it seems that the permanent residents outnumber the visitors. These diminutive deer were everywhere: along the greenspaces bordering the paved and unpaved roads, and amid the dunes.

They are very tame. I got within five feet of a doe and her fawn, and they don't even look up when cars pass by as they graze.

On Tuesday, my partner joined me there, and Wednesday we sent my buddy home by way of Charleston airport, according to plan. I have to say that no photo I could take on my simple digital camera could adequately capture the grandeur of the houses there or the beauty of all the secret gardens, mere glimpses of which could be caught from the sidewalks.

Thursday we explored some of the shops of Beaufort, the last low country city on the way to these barrier islands. When I walked into one of the home décor galleries wearing an olive original UK, one of the shopkeepers regarded me and said in her best fashion reporter voice, “It’s all about skirts for men this year.” I gave a wan smile and kept moving among the silver and repurposed shell bric-a-brac.

Her coworker redirected her immediately. “That’s a Utilikilt. My brother-in-law has one. Is that a Utilikilt?” she called out to me.

“Yes. It’s a Utilikilt.”

“Is that like a skort?” she asked.

“No, it is not a skort.”

The first, having been reproached by the second, but still not quite getting it, inquires further, “Yes, do you wear shorts under that?— ” I show astonishment at the question, “—and that’s ALL I want to know!” implying she’s not asking The Question.

“No, it’s just a skirt.” End of discussion.

Later in the day, we ventured beyond Beaufort to find the ruins of the old Shelby church.

More descriptions of the history and markers around the ruins and perhaps better photos can be found elsewhere on the internet.

After spending the afternoon Friday in Savannah, Georgia, my partner and I returned to the islands and had an excellent dinner at Bateaux in Port Royal. I wore the MacCreary kilt with black stuff – dressy enough to help get our table upgraded on arrival to the upstairs dining room.

While waiting for new arrangements to be made, one of the servers approached me and asked me where I was from. “Cincinnati,” I said. Her eyes got as wide as saucers as she processed that bit of information. But then she could barely contain herself in telling me how handsome I was and how sexy she thought kilts were.

“I think so, too!” my boyfriend nearly snarled, claws bared.

That was the end of that discussion.



Regards,
Rex