Brittany Spears Spirals

How sad to watch Brittany Spears and her one-woman show spiral out of control right before our eyes. The latest tabloid says she was taken by ambulance to a hospital and is being held for mental observations. I also heard that she was a threat to herself. Obviously this young lady is in dire distress and needs some help and guidance.

We place so much importance and emphasis on movie-stars/singers/actors - it must be overwhelming for them. I love my life of mundaneness and wallflower status. When I make a silly mistake or giant blunder it goes unnoticed - sometimes. There was that fall off the bike episode in Key West that could have made the front page of 'The Key West Journal'. Headlines - Drunken Tourist Falls Off Rental Bike (denting fender) on Roosevelt Blvd. The sad part was - I was not drunk and that dented fender cost me $30.00.

Now if I was an aspiring or important pop-star my photo -sprawled on the grass along the main drag in Key West would have made national news. What an embarrasment. My skirt up around my neck showing my pink thong (LOL) my wig precariously leaning to the left and a rental bike (with the name of the rental company prominately displayed) resting on top of me in a tangled mess. Those headlines would have read -'Pop Star' Brainy Speed is once again doing her meltdown in full public view. It would go on to say after the star left a Duval Street bar she pedalled her bike without a valid bike pedeler's license into oncoming pedestrian traffic, ran over some's one foot and collasped in a pile along Roosevelt Blvd.

The article would continue with my past deeds of quickie marriages, divorces, squabbles with parents and co-workers, my sweet children their once dead-beat dad and my latest CD that is certainly not topping the charts. The article would say nothing of the real cause of the bike fiasco or how my body felt as it hit the pavement right in front of terrified tourons or that the bike was an incorrect size for me to be riding. The truth will never be known to the public.

My heart aches for Brittany and the media mess she finds herself drowning in. I would not for any amount of money trade places with her. When I fall off my rental bike in front of stangers and friends I prefer to do it without the media condeming me or making fun of me. As I am typing these words of wisdom my shoulder hurts - from that ungracefall fall from grace on Roosevelt Blvd in Key West.

Vegetarian Poem

Do you carrot all for me?

My heart beets for you.

With your turnip nose.

And your radish face.

You are a peach.

If we could cantelope.

Lettuce marry.

Weed make a swell pear.


An old folk rhyme.

How to Hire a Hit Man

They're out there, I see them everywhere - at my work, in the store, in my neighborhood, driving down the road and a few are my friends. STUPID PEOPLE. There everywhere. I read this story about some lady - I forgot where she lived. She advertised on Craig's List for a Hit Man. Yes, an advertisement on the Internet. Hello - does the elevator stop short from the top floor? I believe it was advertised as a 'freelance' position'. Three people responded.

They all turned her in when they realised what she really wanted - her married lovers' wife knocked off not a 1,000 words knocked out. She met this wonderful lover online. She must have some Internet savvy if she can pick up deadbeats online - so why would she conspire to eliminate a person over the Internet? She wins the 'MOSTEST STUPIDEST AWARD'.

Emails are track able, your IP address is track able and murder for hire is illegal. Talk about leaving a trail to follow - she wins another award for that one. Discreet she was not, then I don't think stupid people know how to be discreet. And the pay was really low. LOL. As many jobs are from Craig's List, at least she got that part correct. And why would she list the proposed job under freelance writing? Did she want the lover murdered with a pencil? Or bad grammar? Or too many -----------(hyphens).

I will continue to read about this saga to see what she pleas. Is there a plea for STUPIDITY? Her shirt should say "I'm not with stupid I am Stupid". A quote from Forrest Gump - "Stupid is as Stupid does", I think that's what he said.

" Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity." Martin Luther King Jr.

HDTV

I'm not a big fan of watching television - I would rather be writing or curled up with a good book. When it's cold outside or I'm in the mood to watch something on the telley I prefer to watch it in color. I don't mean all green. Our t.v. is old - really, really old. The tuner has been broken for years and we run it through the vcr. Since the vcr's are going extinct we have seen trouble on the horizon. A few years ago a button on the front ceased working so it is taped in the on position - sometimes the tap falls off and you see nothing but static. When the power goes off, even for a split second, the television shuts down and it is quite a production to get her up and running again.

Several weeks ago the color from the tube turned green. That would be green faces, green skin, green cars, green milk - green everything. I don't mind seeing Brittney Spears as the green goddess but when I see the green decorating scheme of the Dream House on HGTV - I just can't accept that scenario.

The search to purchase a new T.V. has begun. Sticker Shock!!! Then, there is the question? plasma or LCD? I am clueless. When does size matter? Several years ago (seems like we did everything several years ago) we purchased a beautiful all wood (oak) cabinet to house our dinosaur television. It is truly a beautiful piece of furniture and it is all wood - no pressed board, no metal no glass or all shiny. I love wood furniture makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Will the new purchase fit in our beautiful wood cabinet? No! What to do? What to do?

A new television is inevitable - you can only watch green people for so long. My beautiful oak cabinet will be sent to the garage to languish permanently in limbo. It will become shelving for paint cans, potting soil and hubby's tools. I don't know if I could bear that. I'm wondering if some museum would accept our dinosaur T.V. set along with our oak cabinet? People would walk by and say, "Hey, what's that?"

I need to let go, after all, it's just a television that has seen me through several presidents, wars, cold winters, the birth of puppies and moves to several states. Perhaps watching the world in green is not such a bad idea.

Pirate Promises

The Gasparilla Pirate Parade Extravaganza in Tampa, Florida. Jose Gaspar terrorized the coast for years in the 18th & 19th century. He referred to his pirate self as Gasparilla. The aristocrat turned pirate became a notorious outlaw of the sea. In his honor (?????) we have this huge celebration. Drink, parade, drink, dress up as a pirate, drink, toss beads, drink, party in the streets, drink and then drink some more. There could also be pilfering going on but I believe the main attraction is drinking in the streets.

In Tampa there are one way streets limited parking and congestion! Mix together congestion, party goers, road closing, parade, bead tossing and the drinking in the street - a place I sure want to be. And that's just where I am! In the middle of party paradise although I am not a party person - I do love paradise.

Am I tossing beads? - dressed as a pirate? - drinking in the street? No I have a teleconference to attend. Right smack in the middle of all this. Good timing. They did give us beads so there was no need to flash.

Gasparilla bragged about his conquest and the fate of so many women-folk that he captured. And if one did not choose to become one of his 'krewe' they could walk the plank. It is rumored that Gasparilla buried much of his treasure along the coast. I have never found any of his pilfered loot. I just find myself caught up in this festival honoring his - good works.

BEEP

It's 3 AM. You are tired, you are very tired. BEEP. The sound awakens you instantly from a deep sleep. Wide awake. Not even slightly drowsy. You rest your head back on the pillow and close your eyes. BEEP. You roll over and push your face into the pillow and try to drift into slumber land. BEEP. You kick off the covers and throw your pillow on the floor. BEEP. You look at the alarm clock for signs of activity. For some unknown reason you check out the ceiling fan - reach up and tug on the short chain. BEEP. Darkness fills the room and impedes your visual search. BEEP. You grab your cell phone from the nightstand and stare at the blank screen. BEEP. Wide awake - so completely wide awake you trot out of the bedroom into the kitchen. The dog wags her tail and walks to the door. It's 3:15 AM. You venture outside to walk the fool in the crisp cool air with a slight breeze - in just your thin nightgown. Mission accomplished you walk back inside and snuggle beneath the soft warm covers. BEEP.

Your eyes travel to the space above the bathroom door and you see a very very small red light blink. BEEP. The smoke alarm - needs a new battery - at 3 AM in the morning. Are they programed to ALWAYS need a battery replacement in the wee hours of the morning? A time when you should be in REM sleep. Now, I remember this is the time it always happens. WHY? What evil engineer devised this program? Was he sleep deprived? BEEP.


You can't reach the little round plastic BEEP from here. You can't go back to sleep with the annoying BEEP every 40 seconds. You need a new battery and the step stool. It's dark your cold and tired. You just want to get some sleep. You trudge out in the garage and hunt for the step stool. You find it hidden beneath the pool floaties, the beach chairs and the dog bed. You drag it back into the still darkened house and flip it open. BEEP.

Working in the dark (why?) you set up the step stool and climb aboard. You remove the plastic cover, drop it on the floor and fight with the 9 volt battery. You pull it to the left, you pull it to the right, you give it a jerk. BEEP. Defeat. You climb down from the step stool - in the dark (why?). BEEP. Let there be light.

Life in general is so much more compatible when you can see what you are doing. BEEP. You climb back on the step stool fight with your rectangular component - it's 3:45 Am. BEEP. You snatch the little sucker out and climb back down the step stool. Crunch - there's the lid to the smoke alarm. And then there is silence. You can't remember where you left the spare 9 volt? You climb back in bed and worry about - what would happen if the house caught fire and the smoke alarm was not functioning? Silence at 4 Am and 5 and then 6.

Strangers in the Night or Day

Life becomes a little more complicated when you have teenagers living with you. Our recent teenage addition is 18. He moved in as a single package deal but that is ever changing.

This morning when I awoke there was a strange young man taking a shower in the front bathroom. I stepped over another body on my way to the kitchen. I went outside to walk the dog and there was a strange car in our driveway (blocking me in).

My full pot of coffee disappeared rather quickly along with a gallon of milk and all the bananas. There is a pile of wet towels in the corner of the bathroom, a sink full of dirty dishes and sneakers that have an aroma stronger than the kitty litter box.

I can hear the wheels of progress clinking now - water bill rising - groceries disappearing rapidly and rap music wafting through the house. Our quiet predictable life will never be the same.

Facilities

We'd been on the road traveling for hours in the pouring rain. The two cups of coffee I devoured earlier that morning were waiting for their exit. The cold rain the heavy fog and the darkness all added up to disaster. I felt like I had entered the Twilight Zone in real time.

I ran full throttle with my head down toward the rest room. Oh, the joy and the relief and no lines. As I was sitting contemplating world peace and political candidates I heard a very heavy cough. Not the bronchial cough that I sometimes end up with - but a heavy manly cough. I was quiet like a mouse. The cough filled the air in the musty roadside facility.

I closed one eye and peeked through the opening in the steel gray door. OMG! The individual standing by a strange elongated white porcelain sink hanging on the wall wore a cowboy hat, a denim shirt and bluejeans on bowed legs. Two big W's were stitched on the back pockets. Those pants sure looked like the jeans at the Tractor Supply store. I dare say I never saw a female wearing a pair of them. I looked beneath the cold metal door (careful not to touch the underside of the door or move my feet in a suggestive motion) and right before my eyes was a pair of scruffy pointy toes with silver tips - cowboy boots. And I do mean cowBOY.

Either I was in the wrong place or he was. I was thinking it was me. I sat quietly for several minutes - and it felt like hours. Shouldn't the cowboy go check on his horse tied to the hitching post out front? The hacking began and then the low back throaty hurl. Loogy. I felt my breakfast burrito rising. Still I sat quietly waiting for Roy, Buck or Mr. Wayne to leave. Minutes tick away while I contemplate my predicament.

I could flush and run as fast as possible, hunker down inside the car and hope he never notices me. I could sit here on this stone cold pot the rest of my life and listen to his guttural cough. I search for strength inside my cold wimpy body. The scruffy pointy silver tip cowboy boots do a little dance. I'm turning blue from lack of breathing or the cold inside this block holding tank.

I hear the tapping of the silver tips lightly across the cracked cement floor. The door to the stall next to me opens and clicks closed. I tilt my head in silence and check out the boots in the stall to my left. Is that a cough or what? My chance for freedom has presented itself. I fling back the metal catch - slip silently out of the cold gray stall and run for my life. I didn't even wash my hands.

Golden Years

This is Maggie enjoying her golden years. I sometimes wonder if she is really enjoying these years. She is 17 1/2 - pretty old for a dog. She is healthy and I hope happy - the happiness part is hard to tell. She doesn't hear well and her eyesight is going fast but her sense of smell is still sharp. She can smell food preparation in the next room and is right there under foot waiting for a snack. Her movements are slow and stiff. To lie on the floor is quite a production for her and getting back up is difficult. She takes her morning meds everyday to help with her muscles. She wanders aimlessly when taken outside and at times starts to run away. I always wonder where she is trying to go? She paces in the house. When she needs to tinkle she walks to the door and stares, no sound. We have put down a washable throw rug for accidents.

The golden years - someday it will be me in her state. Scary!

Hope

Snowdrop
Botanical:Galanthus nivalis
Family:Amaryllidaceae
Commom Name:Candelmas Bells

The name galanthus is Greek, meaning milk white flower. Nivalis is Latin, meaning resembling snow. The legend of the snowdrop: After being expelled from the Garden of Eden, Eve sat weeping. an angel comforted her. As the angel talked with Eve, he breathed on a snowflake in his hand. It fell to the earth as the first snowdrop.The flower bloomed and hope was born.

I have looked at my drape less living room windows for months. I just don't know what I want or what would look good at a price I can afford. I spent the night in a hotel this weekend and saw my inspiration. The room had simple white shears on the windows. They let in light but blocked the view from the outside. A perfect solution for my drape less windows.
The Sunday paper arrives - actually I walk down to the corner to buy one. I search for window coverings. Funny the minimal amount of ads in today's paper. I did find a few and they are sold by the panel - about $20.00 a panel. I look at my drape less windows and think 6 or 7 panels. Wow. There goes the budget.

I need to measure the length. I search the garage workshop for a tape measure. You would think he could have a little organization in his PLACE. I tear stuff apart looking for a tape measure. I find a nice plastic lime green one. Off I go into the living room armed with the tape measure. The metal tape bends over before it reaches the top of the window. I start measuring from the floor up? That doesn't work. I huff and puff and he ignores me. I refuse to ask for help. I get a kitchen chair and stand on it. Not high enough to reach.
I go back to his work space in the garage and grab the step stool. I unfold the little demon and pinch my hand in the process. I mutter unkind words to the step stool. I climb to the top step and wobble a little but get that tape to the top of the window. 84 inches just what the ad said. I push the little black button to rewind the metal tape measure. Snap! Ouch! The little bugger snapped my pinky. Instant pain and the big blue bruise appears. Hurts like hull. I step off the step stool begin to close it up and - OUCH. It catches my injured pinky.
I just want drapes up to my bare windows so I can't view the neighbors and they can't view me.
The television stars that spruce up a room in 30 minutes make it look so easy. I can't even measure without being injured. Perhaps I should have asked for a home makeover with a $100.00 budget.

How to Rob a Bank

I admit at times (many times) I write reminders on sticky notes and then forget why I wrote them. I write down cool phrases, quotes and new words on scraps of papers and file them away – never to be found again – sometimes.

I was in a rush this morning and trying to get organized – shoulda put that one on my goal list! Get organized!!! So off to the bank I go as organized as I will ever be. I pull up to the drive-thru. Yahoo - no one there and all green lights. I drop my deposit slip into the cylinder and hear the whoosh.

In seconds a soft voice from behind the tinted glass says, “What can I do for you today?”

Well, are you stupid or what I think? I turn and give the tinted glass the LOOK - are you stupid or what!
“I’m trying to make a deposit here,” I say – as cold as ice.

Good help must be hard to find.

“I’m sorry but you gave me something else,” says the faceless voice behind the tinted glass.
And I hear the whoosh sound of the plastic canister dropping back to me. I reach over, a little miffed at this point in time and snatch out the paper inside the canister. OMG!!! I melt. I look around for the cops to pop up and listen for the siren. She must think I’m trying to rob the bank. OMG!!! Only a fool would try to rob the bank via the drive-thru.

If only I could crawl beneath the seat. I search my purse for the REAL check and deposit slip. It’s not there. I panic. I wonder if she has pushed the alarm button yet. I start searching inside the glove box, my pockets, and the floor of the car. And then I see it folded neatly in the ashtray. I slip it slowly into the plastic canister and hit the ‘send’ button. I hear nothing but the whoosh sound –no sirens.
The whoosh sound rings again and then a polite, “Thank you, have a nice day.”
I wonder if my face has been captured on the hidden camera. I wonder if this will become lunchroom fodder. Get organized goes on my goals list.
So why did I write – Do or die - on a scrap piece of paper?

Hump Day

The sun has risen although you cannot see it through the dark and dreary sky scape. It's like a winter gloom spread evenly across the earth. After spending two days locked inside a conference room the least I expected today was a little sunlight. The dark sky and evil looking clouds chill me to the bone. A discontentment attitude fills my insides.

I feel cheated somehow - as if nature is punishing me with her darkness and all I want is sunshine, brightness and a little warm weather. That doesn't seem like too much to ask for. I'm sitting here wrapped in a fleece robe trying to stay warm. I suppose I could turn on the heat but that would not warm my insides.

I want my bright sun and puffy white clouds to greet me and console me. I want a little warmth as I enter the outside world. The doom and gloom may very well keep me inside today pondering negative thoughts and wishing for spring. I could do something useful and productive and ignore her darkness and gloom. I guess we all have our bad days and today mother nature is in full distress.

My fingers feel the cold as they bang away on the keyboard trying to change my negativity. I have gloves but it's difficult to type with them. This is not the Florida weather that I love and expect. It's dark and cold and I do not like it. Even the cat refuses to go outside. She sits here yelling at me like I have caused this cold and bleakness. At least she has a fur coat.

Time to lift this cluster of gloom - time to go shopping. A cure for sure for the winter blahs!

Illusions

A friend sent me this video.

http://www.youmaker.com/video/sv?id=51485816d3124842bc22d463af60dc51001&f=fs

I heard the birds chirping outside this morning when I awoke. It sounded very spring like. The weather has cooled a little bit here - nice sitting outside weather. I poured myself a cup of coffee added my fat-free creamer and strolled outside. The bird was off on some mission taking his melodious morning chirp with him.

I strolled over to my really kool pink painted Adirondack chair and plopped down in my thin cotton night-shirt. WOW. I nearly jumped right out of my thin cotton night-shirt and dripped hot coffee right down the front of me. Dew lined my pink painted kool Adirondack chair. Well, not anymore it was adhered to my thin cotton night-shirt mixed with coffee, cream no sugar. It sent a chill right thru me.

So I go back inside change my nightie get another cupa java slip on my winter (L.L. Bean) fleece robe and return to nature. I plop right back down on my kool pink painted Adirondack chair and enjoy the morning quiet. No sirens bellowing, car horns honking, no neighbor dogs barking - just total quiet.

I sat there in my fleece robe drinking my coffee with cream, no sugar and cherished the silence. I thought about what my day would bring. The turtles and their huge pond needed to be removed from the front bedroom to make space for the grandson. The old carpet in the closet needs to be ripped out and replaced with laminate flooring. New shelves may or may not go up this weekend? The bird came back and sang me a quick song. I drank my coffee and became lost in the stillness of a great morning.

Goals

One of my goals for this year is to get more exercise. I started with that goal while vacationing in Key West. Driving a car in Key West is like walking thru a maze blindfolded. It is more peaceful to ride bikes. While at Key West I decided to rent a bike instead of walking all day. They have these cute little baskets where you can store water and all of your kool purchases. Once I even put my dirty laundry in the basket and rode to the laundry mat.

So the bike rentals are basically one size fits all. I am a little on the short side. They lowered the seat as far as it would go and still it was difficult to stop and have my feet reach the pavement. I can not even tell you how many times I came face to face with asphalt. Bumps and bruises all over my sore body and I said, "I will never ride a bike again." That was then - this is today.

I search the garage to find my bike - I know it's in there somewhere. Hidden beneath the old pool cover (why haven't we thrown that out?) the umbrella and several stacks of throw rugs: there she is just waiting to be found. I know I should walk the dog today so possibly I could kill two birds with one ride. Not that I would ever kill a bird - maybe a seagull!

I hook the big boy up to his long leash, hop on the bike and off we go. First stop soft grass by the end of my driveway. I look around the cul-de-sac to make sure no one has seen my misfortune. Second try gets me to the corner by the STOP sign. I stop big boy doesn't. The loose fender now hangs precariously closer to the ground. Third and final try - off we go!

The pit bull behind the fence notices us first. I am not prepared. Woof, his deep loud bark shatters my concentration. The big boy takes it as challenge and woofs back on the run. That dog can run faster than I can pedal. It's funny how curbs can stop a person (riding a bike) right in their tracks. I watch my pretty purple bike fly like an eagle gently through the air and land on a perfectly sturdy mailbox. It looked sturdy before it met my bike. I wonder if my homeowners insurance will pay up.

The big boy is busy charging at the pit bull behind the chain link fence as I sit in the gutter and survey my missing skin. I hobble over to the fence and grab his leash and give him a tirade of BAD words. He pants. The owner of the mangled mailbox comes over and asks if I am okay and offers to drive me home and then he looks at big boy. I thank him and offer to replace the mailbox. I pick up my once shiny purple bike and limp home with the big boy. I certainly met my exercise goals for today.

Cookies

Yesterday, when I tried to access my blog I received this error message. Something about your cookies have been disabled, lost or deleted. And I thought I had scarfed down all those chocolate chip cookies? Who comes up with these names? How do you relate a decadent chocolate chip, pecan, butter flavored, crispy calorie laden -to die for- piece of ecstasy to something inside your computer. It's a machine - it has never had the experience of a warm sugar filled soft piece of paradise melting lusciously inside the cheeks.

Was some geek chomping on a Ms. Fields delightful peanut butter blossom while soldering a capacitor to a mother board (repair 101) and he dropped a crumb inside the mass of components and said, " my cookies have been lost."
So the term 'lost your cookies' was created by this - 'I don't really have a life or friends so I bond with a computer' person. I have seen this type of person. Yes, they are smart in some ways. Re enabling cookies is their goal in life.

Me I would just rather keep an extra bag or two hidden in the glove compartment of my car. Chocolate chip is not the best choice to keep in the car during the summer months. Those can be stashed in the back right hand corner of the freezer directly under the broccoli. Trust me - no one will look there.

I wonder - computer wonder/thoughts - what actually did happen to my cookies? Is there an elf munchkin inside my computer making cookies like the Keebler Elves who make cookies in a tree on T.V.? That is how cookies are made for real life consumption - inside a tree by cute little elves. So perhaps computer cookies are made by little geek elves inside my tower that sits quietly next to my foot. Actually sitting right there next to my foot is not the best place to be since occasionally my bare foot hits the ON button and OFF she goes. Maybe it's payback for all that foot abuse it has to put up with so the little geek elves inside my computer eat my cookies.

I'm hungry............I need to go check the freezer.

How to kill a cat

Martha is a 6 year old (plump) tortie and I love her dearly. Or I did till last night. She has her own 'doggie door' in the garage. Does she choose to use it? No! She prefers to scratch at the screen to the sliding glass door in my bedroom. At hourly intervals. First she wants out - then she wants back in. I'm sleep deprived.

I spent $100.00 bucks for the dumb dog door - use it. Is it insulting because it's a dog door and not the more expensive kitty door? Get over it. Get out. Use the darn door and let me sleep through the night.

I tried ignoring her whines and caterwauling but it's the scratching at the screen that is unacceptable. I could close the sliding door but then I would not have my gentle ocean breeze to soothe me. One time I shut the lanai door and the fool climbed on top of the lanai right by my bedroom door and began her pathetic whine. Replacing a screen in a patio door is not a difficult job but replacing the screening on the lanai roof requires an expert.

So now I'm awake and old puss tired from her midnight rompings is fast asleep on the couch. I could put a throw pillow over her face and deny her oxygen. I could terrorize her with the fake stuff mouse or refuse to put fresh food in her bowl.

Tonight for wanting sleep I may sleep in the guest bedroom - that will fix her. And that is an alternative to killing her. Why does she insist on me catering to all her needs? She isn't even a lap cat and doesn't like to be petted. It's all about her! I just need some sleep. I wonder if Excedrim PM works on cats?

Dry Camping

I love to travel and explore my world and engage in new experiences. There are a few problems with this scenario - such as - never enough money to splurge with and that thing called going to work everyday. Working for a living really puts a crimp on my lifestyle. So I depend on friends and relatives helping me make my dreams come true: seeing the world.

This past December - for example - we visited fantastic/decadent Key West. My brother is spending the winter there. Dry camping in a motor home. Let me define - dry camping - for those that have no clue. The bathhouse is a 1/2 mile walk down a bumpy and dark (no lights at night) road. Approximately 300 or more people dry camp here. There are 4 toilets and three showers. Do the MATH.

We are surrounded by water - salt water. Potable water - there is also something called non-potable water and it is beyond the bathroom facilities down that bumpy dark (no lights at night) road. The non-potable water sign scares me. It makes me feel like the water has the plague and it is used for your holding tank in the RV. You know WHAT goes in the holding tank. So the water and bath facilities were a minor issue.

Dry camping also means - no electric. Translated that means the fans or the air conditioner does not work. Do you have any idea how small some windows are in campers? Picture this - two small windows in an RV in Key West topping 90+ degrees. The wind - gone South for the winter. Stifling is not a strong enough word. The slop pot - pungent.

My brother was kind enough to let us sleep on the pull out couch. That metal bar that is used to support the bed and mattress has been forever imprinted on my backside. Oh and those very small windows - screen less. The combination of tropics, heat and screen less windows means ONE thing. Mosquito's! FYI - there is a huge mound of sand right by the men's bathroom door. Don't stand there. Florida is a proud producer of fire ants.

In the end the price was right for me and I have many memorable memories and scars to remind me of paradise.

Pondering

Why do dogs smell like dogs? I mean they really stink at times. My dog is a semi-house dog and the house stinks like a dog. He doesn't roll in yucky stuff outside. I wash his dog rug every week and it still smells like a dog. He gets a monthly bath but within a day or two he stinks.

What makes him stink? Does he need doggy deodorant? Has anyone ever done a study on 'Why dogs stink?'

After I pet him I smell like a dog. Does this odor stay with me throughout the day? Do people I meet think I stink like a dog? I could write a rhyming book and call it 'Stink dog Stink.' It could be a second edition to 'Go dog Go.'

I found this great website. I am hoping it helps me with stinky dog.

http://www.bigdogboutique.com/ProductCart/pc/why_dog_stink.html

The website suggest buying liquid Chlorophyll. Why can't I cut my grass boil it up and wash the dog with it? Or make him eat it.

Does your dog stink?

Olga's Bra

I think this is Olga's traveling bra. I saw this high in a palm tree on Duval Street in Key West.

http://olgathetravelingbra.blogspot.com

Gotta Love Her

Maggie is 17 1/2 years young. The decline is frustrating.

http://sarcasticmom.com/?page_id=137

The holidays have depleted my cash reserve- not that it was all that much to begin with. A Christmas gift from the boss was a gift card to a local theatre. The amount was more than what two people could spend. I decided to do my 'good deed for the day' (that should go on my goals list - a good deed everyday) so I invited several friends to go with us. I was afraid the gift card was only a one-time use and didn't want to miss an opportunity.

I dropped in my purse a can of soda and several granola bars ( I know, I know) they are so expensive in the theatre and the granola bars help me achieve my goals for the new year. My friends can use their own money to buy popcorn and soda at the concessionare stand.

We strolll casually up to the ticket window and I produce my little red envelope and pass it through the half- moon opening. The sun is glaring on the glass window and all I see is a shadow - no face. The faceless girl says "I need the card."
I reply, "What card?"
"I cannot process this transaction without the card it has the verification numbers on it."
"I don't have the card, just this envelope."
"Sorry, I need the card."

I begin the search through my purse being very careful she doesn't see my contraband and confiscate it. I remove two wallets, cell phone, old grocery store receipts, a winter hat, a half chewed rawhide dog toy and seeds gathered from that palm tree I adored in the park. The natives behind me are growing impatient so I step aside to continue the search. Hubby tries to help with the mission and pulls out my can of soda. I try to grab it back and place it indiscreetly in my zipper compartment. It slips from my grip and crashes onto the pavement. Splush!! It spurts diet soda all over. I look at the tinted window but cannot tell if the faceless person can see my disaster.

The card is not anywhere in my possesion. What would I have done with that all important card? Why would I have removed it from the envelope? Then, the light, ever so dim flashes inside my head. The card had the website printed on the back and I looked up the showtimes on the computer. Very clearly the dim light flashing inside my head shows the card sitting right next to my gel infused mouse pad - AT HOME.

There is one showing today for this movie and we traveled on a busy highway for an hour to get here. No chance of returning home and no chance of asking my invited guest to pay their own way. I move into another line feeling the guilt of contraband tugging at my insides. I pull out my credit card and cringe. My hands are sticky with soda. I pass it through the half-moon shaped opening to another faceless person.

No Resolutions

I have decided to go the route of NO New Year's Resolutions. They never seem to work anyways and they put you under lots of pressure. There is enough pressure already so why should I create more for myself.

I have gone the route of Goals - very unspecific Goals. I have 5 of them. And they are no benchmarks or criteria to meet. Actually I have recently added a sixth but it has not been set in stone (written down). My last entry #6 concerns an interesting site I found while searching the net. I never realized that this kind of thing really existed or that men really care about their undies. Usually I find sweetie-kins used ones in a pile on the floor in the closet or under the bed. He has never seemed to care what color, what material or how much they cost. The fact that they should be changed every day or at least twice a week has never entered his mind. You gotta love em! And let's not even discuss those - skid marks. So my goal #6 is to learn more about underwear for men. I have started my search at this site - this is where my inspiration for this fetish began. It's not really a fetish just a fascination that there are real men out there that really do care about their undergarments.

http://www.mensunderwearguy.com/

My goal number 2 is to eat more healthy. This is so much more better (LOL) than having a diet resolution. With goal #2 it allows me to indulge myself in chocolate whenever necessary. I will still try to eat healthy and there is absolutely NO proof that chocolate is not healthy! It's a refurbisher of the mind, body and soul. When the urge expoldes for a chocolate fudge brownie sundae I will commence with the attack and feel little if any remorse. If I had made a resolution to go on a diet I would most definately become a failure.

So my goals for the New Year are hand written on a sticky note and taped to my desk. I'm hoping the sticky doesn't wear off too soon and my goals become one with the long lost underwear. I will make undates about my goals when appropriate.

I have posted a picture of my friends who will be helping me with my goals. Cry and you cry alone - laugh and you laugh with friends.

New Year's Eve

It was New Year's Eve and we were celebrating. I was drinking my usual - water. It scares me to think what would happen to me if I did drink alcohol. So here we sit on the upperdeck at the

Whiskey Rose Bar (I think) on Duval Street in Key West. Friends having a good time enjoying the old year and looking forward to what the new year will bring us. I'm sipping my water everyone else is on their third drink (alcohol). None of us were driving vehicles. In Key West on foot or bike is the best way.



So i'm leaning over the edge of the railing and off goes my flip flop, gets kicked into the road and this HUGE truck rolls quietly over my flip flop. I yell for someone to save my flip flop. No one hears my cries. The party mood is prevalent on the streets and no one notices the squashed lonely flip flop. I hop down the long winding wooden (yes splinters) stairs and run into the street. Well, actually it was too crowded to run into the street. I felt like a sardine in a too small greasy tin.



I searched the street for my lonely flip flop but it had disappeared with the rolling crowd. I hobbled back upstairs and took a wrong turn and ended on the third level. My cell phone rings and I answer it. I realize much too late that I have ended up on the clothing optional deck. Some old hag that should be covered to protect society screams at me about not having a cell phone on the third level. Like I would take a picture of her! So I hurry back down to the next level and search for my friends. They didn't even know I was gone.



So I stand there with one flip flop on and one bare foot feeling foolish. I peer over the railing and see some tanned young stud riding a skateboard barefooted. So I think to myself if he can ride a skateboard shoeless I can ride my bike minus one flip flop.



My bike pedal was made of metal with ridges. Recipe for disaster - barefoot, metal pedal, hot Key West day. Off I go on my bike rental. Scratches on the bike are added to your credit card. Always careful, always considerate I stop for the pedestrian who walked right in front of me. The Cafe Ragu sign saved my life. It didn't look very pretty with me and the bike dumped on top of it. Somewhere along the way my remaining flip flop went AWOL.



I hobble to a store to purchase new over priced flip flops to pedal my bike with the now bent frame. I wonder if the rental place will not notice the bent bike frame? Should have taken out that insurance for $29.99.

2008

Happy New Year!!!!! Greetings from Key West!!!!!