I was showering this morning when I realized that the water pressure isn’t what it used to be. There is no cut-off valve for the shower (or at least, any accessible valve), so I began to wonder what might account for the weak water. It’s true that a pipe from our water heater busted last fall but that was fixed up better than new by our ace plumber, Allen Baker. There was no other water running in the house at the time, so what is left?

Then it hit me (an idea, not the water). Last year, we were on the end of Tonsler Drive and the end of the water line. When the new Oakwood North subdivision went in, it extended this water line. I didn’t notice any drop in pressure initially since the homes were only slowly becoming occupied. Now that the neighborhood is almost built out there are now a lot of morning showers competing for the same water pressure.

It reminded me of the scene from There Will Be Blood: the new neighbors are drinking my milkshake!

Scott Greenough

I have been preoccupied for over a week as my close friend Scott Greenough has been battling for his life. He’s in the hospital now with terminal liver failure and everyone is concerned that he might not make it.

I set up a Caring Bridge site for Scott last night for his friends and loved ones to share their thoughts and follow his progress. You can check it out here.

Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers!

Update: I have created a separate blog for updates on Scott. See the Scott Greenough page.

The family and I were spending a few hours trekking around Raven Rock State Park yesterday when we encountered three senior citizens who were obviously NC natives. They had made their way down the steep stairway to the base of Raven Rock and were looking for someone to take their picture.

“I’ll be happy to take y’alls picture,” I said as they handed me their iPhone. “Y’all just stand together right there.” I snapped two photos of them and grinned as I handed their phone back to them.

When we had climbed the stairs and were out of earshot, Hallie gave me a quizzical look and said, “you were totally Southern back there!”

“Well, that’s how I was raised!” I said as I shrugged and laughed. It doesn’t occur to me that that’s not how I act all the time. I see good country folks and can’t help but slip back into my Southern accent.

I guess the South our kids are growing up in is different than the one I grew up in. I suppose that’s a good thing, them being around people from different backgrounds. Even so, I sure hope I never forget where I am from, and how to speak properly with the good folks who’ve called North Carolina home far longer than I have.