A Love-Lee Affair: Turning a new leaf

I surprise myself. Really.

I've been listening to the classical music station here in Anderson for the past 2 weeks. It's 90.1 FM if you are interested and happen to be in this upstate area. Side note: I still dislike opera.

Having no prior interest in this musical genre, I know this comes as a shock to you and me both. The Dj's voices are so smooth; so calming (I suppose that's what we call them, Dj's)? And of course the music is just as tranquil too. I can't help but notice and share with you that the Dj's have the same voice tone as that of Margaret-Jo and Terri from the Delicious Dish skit on SNL. I'm not kidding. It's creepy but calming all at the same time.

On a more serious note, I've been exposed to an abundance of culture just by listening to this radio station. For example, I'm in-the-know on all things Spoleto, the arts festival in Charleston that celebrates music, art, theater, opera, and culinary achievements. Spoleto was a fun time when I lived in Charleston, but I am now able to live vicariously through this radio station.....that no one else is listening to.

Having plans to go to Charleston next weekend, I am going to ask my friend, Katey, if we can pencil in seeing my new favorite artist, Charlton Singleton, that I discovered on 90.1 FM. I just emailed him actually. I heard he plays at The Charleston Grill, but I needed to contact him to make sure. I know what he looks like because I googled him.

Charlton's great-grandfather wrote a song called Mary Weep, Martha Mourn in the late 1800s. He wrote it during his struggle with faith in God that he later found. Charlton later wrote a song of his own based upon his great-grandfather's experience.

I'll never forget when my worlds of shopping, music and Charleston collided with one another.

My sweet, Louisiana friend, Bridget and I had shopped all day in downtown Chas and were on our way back to her adorable house on Coming Street to rest up for going out later that night. On our trek back, we passed by The College of Charleston on a gorgeous, lazy, Southern afternoon. We heard an orchestra. I don't know who they were or where they came from, but they had an audience. The gates were open, white chairs were set out, and it was free of charge. We set down all of those shopping bags, took a seat under the canopy of trees, and listened for a while. I don't know if Bridget remembers it the way I do, but I distinctly remember us looking at each other and saying, "Really? Do we really live here?"

We both enjoyed our 20 minute serenade, but then it was on to bigger and better things: gettin' rowdy in Chucktown. Hey, at least we're diverse...

I don't know why I didn't take a picture on that "picture-perfect" afternoon. This will have to suffice.