Charleston, Sprained Ankles & Strange Posts

You know that family member who disappears for weeks and then just reappears one day and acts like nothing has happened?

A couple of weeks ago was Thanksgiving, and I gave my thanks in Charleston, South Carolina, where I ate and walked and walked and ate. What can I say, I’m diverse.

We had a lovely, albeit ridiculously expensive, Thanksgiving dinner at Halls Chophouse.

While there, I discovered Charleston is every bit as lovely as I remembered it. We walked the mansion-lined streets, Rainbow Row and the green parks, saw some salty water, saw some flowers still in bloom, and relaxed at night by the lobby fire.

Let these seven pictures of Charleston serve as my seven things for the week of Thanksgiving –

Hm, as it turns out, only six of the eight pictures I chose for sharing made it from one computer to the other, so here are those six pictures –

Blurry, yes. But note that when you can’t walk in Charleston, you’re supposed to rock ‘n roll.
This car was parked on East Battery, next to the concrete boardwalk. Darkened inset so you can see Vader.
I like cool plants against a sweet tree base in any city.
This old train station was directly across from the window of our hotel room.
Train stations. Better at night.
Permanent art outside a locksmith’s shop.

And one reminder of this sign once spotted in Jersey –

Instructional, not cautionary.

On the way back from Charleston, we took the slightly longer route to keep close to the ocean and stopped in Myrtle Beach. We managed to find a restaurant with an ocean view that didn’t lie within the tourist trap section. Then, after we ate, we stopped by the tourist trap section. For about 20 minutes. That was really all we needed.

I will give them thumbs up for the KISS Coffeehouse we discovered in our endless quest for local coffee, though.

Upon returning home, I was ready to hit it hard and get back on track. So I did. For two days. On the third day, I sprained my ankle… don’t laugh… running… in place… on the Wii Fit. Here’s what I know about sprained ankles that I didn’t know before. In the past, when I thought I might have had a sprained ankle, I didn’t. Because, apparently, a real sprained ankle don’t play.

For two days, I had a limp, but decided I could shake it off. Then, I tried some gentle exercise, heard a pop and fell onto the couch in a twisted mangle of naughty language. Today is the first day I have been able to go up and down the stairs on my feet. For a week, I’ve been butt-hoping down them and crawling back up. So, along with the residual pain, I also have bruises on both shins and ass.

Yeah, it’s sexy.

On Saturday, we’re going back to New York for this —> Cyndi Lauper Rocks My Socks <— and because there is no place like New York at Christmas. While, at this point, I am still only walking down the stairs half the time, I do intend to be able to handle stairs fully by then, because I love my gritty city, but there is no way in hell I’m butt-hopping down public stairs there.

PS – I am trying to do some clean-up of my blog and inadvertently posted a few old drafts. I know they went out to some feeds and emails. My apology.

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