Hi y’all. Today marks one month since we moved here to Charleston,  South Carolina from San Francisco, California. Do you like the ‘y’all’? I have to admit, there is something so easy and efficient about that word. I find myself saying it occasionally now.

Well, it’s a miracle we ever made it on the plane a month ago. I came down with the flu the day before the movers came (naturally) and had to lie on the unfurnished floors in a half conscious stupor while Matt stepped on a bee and could hardly walk. Thank God my mom nursed us at her house before we flew out two days later! We crawled onto the plane (after checking 3 guns of course). I honestly don’t think I had the constitution for any emotion which was probably best! Goodbyes are no bueno. No senor.

My sister-in-law, bro-in-law and kids welcomed us with that southern hospitality to their house in the burbs and soon the whole clan descended for my husband’s birthday. Including one of The Twins! We had a great time and sadness/homesickness really only crept in for a few fleeting moments.

Look at this adorable “welcome bag” that my SIL and MIL made for us! Love it.

Fishing off the docks.

We also had a very fine derby party of our own making. My husband’s horse won, to the chagrin of the rest of the family.

Take Charge Trudy & Rousing Sermon.

Even uncle Leonard donned a derby hat…

We’ve played some corn hole. We’ve lost a lot of corn hole. New games? Anyone? How about a different game??

So, down to the really good stuff- our new apartment. In a word, miracle. Old. Charming. Location. Downtown. Those are just a few. We live smack dab in the heart of the old historic French Quarter in Charleston, in an old converted brick cotton warehouse built in 1855. Uhh…yes, you heard that right. Pre-Civil War. We are living in history, you could say. We LOVE it.

Every day, I wake up, look out my window (my two story double long window in my two story exposed brick wall..!!!) and see antiquity. I hear the clipclop of horse (excuse me, mule, per Matt) drawn carriage tours, I step out (and after getting smacked with the moist, humid wall of weather) walk a block to any restaurant, the harbor front, or in the other direction, cobblestone streets, the first theatre in America, and a church founded in 1680.

St Philip’s church’s graveyard is the resting place of some important folk. Buried there are revolutionaries, politicians, confederates and artists. Among them are Col. William Rhett, known as the “Scourge of the Pirates,” charged with bringing the murderous Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet to justice. Gen. Moultrie, the great defender of Charleston against the British, is there. Edward Rutledge, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Charles Pinckney, a signer of the Constitution, and John C. Calhoun, a US senator and vice president of the US also are buried there.

Beware of carriage crossing.

So, when friends and family ask “how are you liking it?” I say “I’m loving it!” Because we are. It feels like England, but with better weather and friendlier people (hey, my Brits – you know I love you!).

I will, however, briefly mention the main thing that thwarts this idyllic experience (aside from missing my family and friends!). BUGS. The bain of my existence. By the third day here, I had 20+ bug bites. Apparently, I’m the 1-in-10 that is highly attractive to mosquitos. Go figure that this attraction is for bugs. Uhhhh…where was this phenomenon in my dating years?? To add fuel to the fire, I also, evidently, suffer from “Skeeter Syndrome” or allergy to mosquitos. “Sounds pretty redneck,” said my California-bred boss. But that’s what it’s called, apparently. So, I look like a leper straight out of Bible times, but there’s NO CURE. I’ve spent over $100 on various pharmaceutical paraphernalia: Off, natural sprays, a thermacell, salves, lotions, essential oils, vitamin B1 supplements. I’m coming to terms with the fact that I have to wear something at all times, or suffer the histamine consequences.

Then there’s the palmetto bugs. That’s southernese for giant flying cockroaches that sound like military helicopters when approaching your head. More posts coming about those behemoths, but I will leave you with this lovely image of our toilet last week. Bye, y’all!