In Part 1 of my story, I got to Charleston safe and sound, but an hour later than scheduled.  This delay meant that the rest of the wedding party had departed for my friend’s property.  I was left alone at The Inn at Middleton Place.

My first take was to check into my room.  They needed to give me a new room since my first one was still being cleaned.  Otherwise, check-in went smoothly.  Soon, I was settled into my room.

My friend, his fiance, and everyone else weren’t going to back for a few hours, so I decided to wander the property.  I quickly found out that Middleton Place is a photographer’s dream.  From the spanish moss, to the wildlife, to the thousand year old Oak trees, to the Ashley river, to… well, you get the point.  By the end of my self-tour, I had learned quite a bit about the history behind Middleton Place and had walked quite a few miles (or at least it felt like that).  Here are some (ok, MANY) photos from my walk-about: 

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Coming up next, we get creepy with a ghost walk and an unexpected visitor!

It’s taken me awhile, but I’m finally going to blog my photos from my trip to Charleston, South Carolina for my friend’s wedding.  Well, not *ALL* of the photos just yet.  There are over a thousand of them after all.  1,004 to be exact.  (The "over 1,100" number from a previous post and includes some blurry shots and some videos I took.)  I’ll post the photos in batches in chronological order with a narrative accounting of the events.

Let’s start with the flight down.  The day before my flight out, the weathermen were talking about a big snowstorm that was to hit us that night and into the next morning (when my fight was).   They were predicting 2-4 inches of snow.  "Great", I thought. "Let’s add bad road conditions and icy plane wings to my takeoff fears."  To be safe, my wife set the alarm for 3:45am.  (My flight was scheduled for 6am.)

We were spending the night at my in-laws’ house since that was where my wife and kids were going to stay over Halloween.  NHL woke up one time during the night and, though sleepy, was surprised to see me come to his bed.  "Daddy?  Why are you still here?" he asked.  I explained that I hadn’t left yet, gave him a kiss, and helped him get back to sleep.

I woke up at 3:45am, tossed on some clothes and got ready to leave.  I had already packed the previous day, so I was ready to go very quickly.  In addition, that predicted 2-4 inches of snow didn’t materialize.  Yes, snow fell from the sky, but nothing stuck.  Not even a dusting.  I tossed my suitcase and backpack (containing snacks, a book, flight/wedding information, and my camera) into my father-in-law’s car, and we were off.

At 4:30am, I arrived at the airport.  I thanked my father-in-law and headed in.  Checking my bags went smoothly.  So did airport security.  By 5am, I was sitting by my terminal waiting for my flight to board.  Reading (Lord of the Rings) helped pass the time and soon we were boarded and in the air.

The flight was pretty uneventful except for a missed photo opportunity.  We were above the clouds and I saw the sun rising in the sky.  There was a beautiful sunrise popping over the fluffy white clouds.  It would have made a beautiful photo.  Except I was on the other side of the plane and would have had to lean over a perfect stranger to take the photo.  Call me crazy, but I felt just too awkward saying "Hey, that’s a great sunrise out there.  Mind if I lean over your lap to snap a few photos?" to him.

My connecting flight brought some drama.  I got off my first flight and saw the gate immediately.  I had an hour to kill, so I decided to wander the airport a bit.  Lucky I did that since I saw on the arrivals/departures board that my flight had changed gates.  Then it got delayed.  And delayed again.  (Mechanical troubles.  How fun!)  Finally, we boarded a "mere" 55 minutes after we were supposed to.

I didn’t have a window seat, but the window seat next to me was untaken so I claimed it as my own.  Once we were in the air, I snapped some pics. 

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 We landed with no problems other than a bonked head while standing up.  (Mental note:  Remember to watch out for the overhead luggage bins when standing!)

On the downside, the flight delay meant that I didn’t get to see the property that G & L purchased in South Carolina (that they are turning into a vineyard and Italian community).  On the plus side, I did get to wander the grounds where I was staying alone and take many, many, MANY photos.  But that will have to wait for another post.

While in Charleston, the talk amongst the other groomsmen, groom and myself turned political.  Knowing that the other three were McCain supporters (I was the only Obama supporter of the four of us) and that we were deep in "McCain-country", I mostly kept quiet.  I wasn’t going to turn my friend’s wedding into a big political argument.  (It wouldn’t have swayed anyone’s opinions anyway.)  Someone did say something that I objected to, though.

M said that the homeless shouldn’t be allowed to vote.  I disagreed on that point.  It just felt wrong to me, though I didn’t have a good argument prepared as for why.  Now I do.  It’s all too easy to become homeless.  The ongoing subprime mortgage fiasco is pushing many out of their houses.  Some of these people might wind up on the streets.  Should we add insult to injury and take away their right to vote when the bank forecloses on their house?  What about people with medical conditions that leave them broke?  What about people who lose their job and can’t afford their house/apartment while they fruitlessly search for a new job?

Tying a person’s right to vote to any particular test (shy of being a felon – and I’ve even heard good arguments against this) seems like it is only a way to prevent certain groups from voting.

I’m back from my trip to Charleston, South Carolina.  Everything went well there.  My friend is now married and I have over 1,100 photos of the time I spent there.  More on that later.

On Sunday, NHL woke up and was acting odd.  He didn’t want to eat breakfast and asked to go back to sleep.  Not on the couch watching TV, mind you.  He wanted to go back to bed.  (Sign #1 that something is wrong, a nap with no TV is *ASKED FOR*!!!)  After about an hour’s nap, he woke up and went to Hebrew School.

When we picked him up, he seemed tired.  We went to the grocery story to pick up some food.  He and JSL sat in a car cart next to each other.  NHL complained that he was hungry.  Fair enough, it was lunchtime.  So we tried to get him some food but he kept going between hungry and not hungry.  Finally, we got him some pretzel crisps and went through the aisles quickly.  At the dairy aisle, the second to last aisle we needed to go in, he suddenly gagged and hurled all over himself, the cart and the floor.

Now here is where my bad reaction comes into play.  Ever since NHL has been little, I seem to have this reaction when he vomits.  I instinctively try to catch it to contain the mess.  It never works, always gets me messy, yet the reaction persists.  It’s not a conscious decision either.  It just seems to be something that I do as a split-second reaction to my son vomiting.  I don’t know why I do it

So there I am standing with vomit dripping down my hands in the dairy aisle.  My wife took JSL to get someone to help clean up the mess.  (Luckily, NHL turned away from JSL when he performed the Technicolored Yawn, so JSL was spared the mess.)

When she came back, I cleaned us up the best I could and took NHL to the restroom.  He complained on the way that he was going to hurl again, so we hurried.  Once in the bathroom, though, he tummy must have settled a bit because he didn’t need to.  However, the restroom was equiped with a hot air hand dryer (a "blower" in NHL-speak) and not paper towels.  So I grabbed handfuls of toilet paper, wet them, and tried to use it to clean up the vomit on NHL’s clothes (as well as the specks of toilet paper that started ripping off and sticking to his clothes).  It wasn’t a great job, but it was good enough for the moment.

Back we went to B to find that they had taken the cart away to be hosed off.  They were coming with a new cart and a mop.  Meanwhile, B was guarding the "spill zone" with JSL while watching our groceries.  I took JSL and NHL and headed to the car.  (Along the way, I saw an employee heading back to my wife with another car cart.  He saw me taking the boys away and said he’d get her a regular cart.)  At the car, NHL was clearly distressed.  He wanted to go home *now*.  I calmed him down the best I could until B got back.  Then we headed home.

At home, we saw that NHL was spiking a fever.  Motrin went in and NHL went to nap for a bit.  His fever seemed to pass, but he still wasn’t hungry for dinner.  A juice box and half of a apple juice popsicle was all he had the rest of the day.  Luckily, this morning, his fever appeared to be gone and he actually requested breakfast.  Hopefully, he’s on the mend.

My Gross Day wasn’t over though.  JSL had needed a tub, and a dinner of buttered noodles didn’t help.  Just before his tub, he decided to poop.  I couldn’t change his diaper *AND* clean/fill the tub at the same time, so B agreed to change his diaper.  Unfortunately, she didn’t wait until I was ready and soon a naked JSL was wandering about the house while I waited for the "clean the tub" water to go down the drain.

As the tub drained, B told JSL: "Out of the living room.  I don’t want you peeing on the carpet.  Go to Daddy."  Can you guess what comes next?   I suddenly felt wet on my leg.  I saw that the water was way to low for me to have accidentally splashed myself and I saw JSL turning and walking away.  Yes, JSL did as Mommy asked and went to Daddy to pee.  (Ok, it might not have been what Mommy meant, but apparently JSL is very literal.)

So yesterday I was puked on by one kid and peed on by the other.  I guess that’s the payback I get for being out of town for 3.5 days.