I just returned from a book signing at My Sister’s Books and I’m feeling nostalgic—sort of a “Georgetown on my mind” type of feeling.

It’s hard to believe we left there three and a half years ago to move to Wilmington, N.C.

We’ve visited Pawleys Island and Georgetown several times since, but on this trip, I guess I noticed changes to a larger degree: many new shopping centers, housing developments, restaurants and offices.

All this new development sometimes makes me sad. But here’s something that made me glad: I still say the most intriguing sight there (besides the ocean itself) is the wild-vine-covered, crumbling, mysterious and haunting stone ruins (at least, I call them ruins).

It’s actually the remnants of an old motel on Highway 17, near the former Mackenzie Beach.

What a beautifully chilling sight! But the trip itself was really good:

Dinner at Pastaria 811 was as wooooooooonderful as ever.

I’d been craving shrimp Roma ever since Bess Long called me.

Dave Deemer (unfortunately, absent that night) has remodeled, providing a cozy and more spacious dining area.

That night Russell and I dined and caught up with friend and fellow author, Elizabeth, and her family.

We stayed at Litchfield Beach Golf and Racquet Club.

Nothing’s changed there, except the scenery just gets prettier and the staff, friendlier.

Catching up by the pool with my dear friend, Carolyn, was perfect (though our visits are never long enough).

No trip is complete to Pawleys Island without a trip to my old stomping ground—Piggly Wiggly!

I had to buy several jars of Trappist Monk ginger jelly since I can’t find it anywhere else.

I had “orders” from family and friends, and of course, myself.

Russell admired a display of baseball caps and T-shirt combos while I shopped.

It was Saturday night, a little after 9:00, and pretty quiet overall. I asked where my buddy was, Tim Smith, the manager.

Well! Come to find out, he was promoted to District Manager.

See what great things happen when I leave town? Kidding! Unfortunately, I didn’t get to see him either.

The bill seemed a little high, but I just shrugged.

It wasn’t until that night in bed when I asked, “Honey, did you get that baseball cap and T-shirt?” Russell said, “Yep.”

“Well, did I pay for that?” I asked. Again, he said, “Yep,” and, he rolled over and said, “Goodnight.”

That might seem sneaky, but really, it’s pretty smart.

This guy deserves entire wardrobes for traipsing all around with me—moving heavy boxes, setting up tables, keeping my water (or tea, or coffee) cup full and never fussing when it’s time to leave and I dawdle, saying, “Wait! Just one more minute—” for a variety of reasons.

Now I see why he readily accompanies me on these trips: perks! (Hey, it’s not the first time he’s slipped in a surci.)

The next morning we had a spread-and-a-half buffet at Webster’s.

I told Russell that should hold us down for two days.

You’ve never seen such an array—homemade biscuits, eggs cooked to order, sausage and ham, grits and hash browns, just-cut fresh fruit, oatmeal, even Muselix, which I looooove.

(Even still, I later recanted and chowed down on some Hibachi chicken for dinner.)

We both wanted to see our old neighborhood, Pawleys Retreat, so we rode down Shipmaster Avenue.

The memories came flooding back—gardening in the yard, the gym and beach trips, supper club and writer’s group, community theatre (which Russell and I did together one time, that being, “Other People’s Money” in Murrells Inlet), worshipping at St. Paul’s Waccamaw UMC, not to mention jaunts to Georgetown.

There, I would often eat lunch alone, work on columns and visit the staff at Georgetown Times.

I still miss Thomas Café and Pink Magnolia to this day.

Next we rode over to the public access at Pawleys Island, where I walked almost daily the ten years we lived there.

As I began to take some pictures of the breathtaking oceanfront, I realized that was one of the few things that hasn’t changed one bit.

The tide rolls in, the tide rolls out, the sun rises and the sun sets, but every morning, come rain or shine, the beach is there—providing a great respite for walking, relaxing, vacationing, meditating, reading or just being.

Finally, it was time for the book signing to begin. What fun! If you weren’t there, I missed you.

If you were there, thank you so much for your support and readership! And as Arnold says, “I’ll be baaaaacccckkk!”

Ann Ipock “Life Is Short, So Read This Fast!” amipock@ec.rr.com www.annipock.com