Meet Scarface

This is the baby.

Meet Jim

Jim's new habitat. I think he likes the new space. If only I knew what type of turtle-tortoise he was?

The Truth Shall Set You Free - Or Will It?

I've had a minor lapse in judgement a major thought of indiscretion. Placing the blame on someone else is always the easy way out and seems to be the road most taken. I prefer to take the road less traveled by. At times these diverges in the woods get me lost and disoriented. Something like this morning when I was doing my wifely duty and mowing the lawn. What that is not part of the wifely duty?

I was trying to do a fairly decent job of mowing the brown lawn that hardly ever grows due to lack of rain but the weeds were getting taller than me.
I tried to mow around the cedar trees but was having difficulty so I had to go into the neighbors yard to make the cut. Pun!

I jammed that big boss mower between the two cedar trees and - oh - what an awful cracking sound I heard. Then black pieces of plastic flew through the air with the greatest of ease. Once a drip irrigation system to water our flourishing cedar trees was now a pile of twisted black pieces. What have I done? Do I tell hubby - the truth of the matter? Do I take full responsibility for the episode of destruction. I know there will be a lecture and that look. Just one half of an hour before I began my wifely mowing duties the lawn man mowed the neighbors yard.

HHHHMMMM. Should I play Ms. Innocent and say nothing and mention the lawn man mowed 30 minutes before I began mowing? Or should I cry like a sissy girl and beg forgiveness? Or say nothing? I'm thinking the parts that used to be for sprinkling the cedar trees now ripped and shredded beyond recognition might spring a major leak and send our water bill over the limit and then the lawn watering police will come and investigate why we are using such an excess of water and be fined, ostracized, criticised and mortified.

I'm hoping the truth shall set me free and I will never have to mow the lawn again.

Turtle Soup

I have acquired two more turtles. Actually one turtle and one tortoise. The little turtle is a red eared slider and he is very small. I call him a 'he' as he has been named - Scarface. The bright red markings on his face begot his name of Scarface. This was not my decision.

The land tortoise has been named - Jim - after Jim Morrison, once again not my decision. He is also small and I know very little about land turtles-tortoises. These sweet little guys are rescue turtles-tortoises.

Scarface was placed in a pond all by his little lonesome self just to make sure he was not sick. In his new spacious home I placed a large rock and that is where little Scarface stayed - under the rock. He didn't eat and barely moved which was a concern for me.

We put in a bigger, deeper and better pond in the turtle habitat for my guys. It was a daunting project. I then introduced little lonesome Scarface to the rest of the gang in the new pond. He came alive. He was reborn. It was amazing. The others accepted him into the pack with open webbed feet. Scarface loves his new habitat and his new (protective) family. I believe this is his first taste of freedom and love by those of his own kind. Scarface will do great.

Jim is in a temporary habitat until his new home can be completed. I placed sand and cedar chips in a huge plastic container added a little dish for water and gave him some store bought food especially for land turtles. Jim immediately dug himself a burrow. For a guy that has never had the opportunity to walk on the earth - I was amazed with his skill. Then, I did a little research on land turtles-tortoises. I think Jim may be a Box Turtle. Sand and cedar chips are a big no-no. I got to work and rearranged his habitat. Out with the sand and cedar chips. I searched in vain for worms in my backyard. I sliced up the one remaining apple in the house and gave him a peach. I will have to find a bait shop for his protein allotment. Jim seems very happy.

I love my two new additions to the household. My dream would be to turn my backyard into a huge and lovely natural turtle-tortoise habitat. FYI - turtles are not all that slow.

Redneck Truckers

Driving down the highway I noticed this redneck truck (judgemental of me - yes) with a bumper stick that said -' When you give shit you get hit.' How could I tell this was a Florida redneck truck? The gun in the back window, the wheels, the dirt, the dents, the Confederate Flag and some of the other crude bumper stickers.
I tried to think about what this bumper sticker meant. I thought that perhaps they would take that gun from the back window and shoot me. Scary thought so I eased off the gas to let the truck and myself get some much needed distance. That tactic didn't work for some strange reason the redneck truck slowed down. I was starting to feel like I was a target.
I wrote down the license plate number on my forever next to me steno pad and a little blurb about the truck. Yes, I did this while driving. I needed evidence in case I went MIA. I didn't want the authorities to start looking for me at the Grand Floridian hotel at Disney. Which is something I couldn't do because I have not removed twelve thousand dollars from my bank account, borrow someones license, book a room at the resort under a false name and call in a kidnapping report.
My mindless thoughts are certainly wandering around the dark side today. What causes some people to do what they do? If only I had the answer to that.
So back to the bumper sticker and the meaning. Perhaps it means they will throw rubbish out the window at me if I get too close and tailgate or blow my horn at them when that sit like a sitting dead duck when the light turns from red to green. I never honk when people sit like - 'stupid' - when the light turns green. I just try like a saint to have patience and get away from them.
Still contemplating what that bumper sticker means and also the meaning of life. I have much to think about and I'm almost late for work. I will keep this thought in the back recesses of my mind and dissect the meaning at another time.

Paint the roof WHITE

The Energy Secretary, Steven Chu wants us to paint our roofs white. Good for the earth, global warming and all that good stuff. I hear ya! I just cannot afford to do this. If you will send me stimulus money to complete this project I would surely paint the roof of my house white and also my vehicle. It will save me money on my electric bill that rises each month and keep me cooler inside my comfy home. Give me enough money and I may spray paint my brown grass white. It's brown because we can't water the lawn and then couldn't afford to water the lawn if there were no water restrictions.
One problem I see is my roof has asphalt shingles. How does one paint asphalt shingles? Perhaps you could send me enough stimulus money to buy new white asphalt shingles. Maybe someone could create a grass that is white as opposed to green and that will help the environment.
All of these solutions are very good solutions but they are expensive and in these economic difficulties it is hard to drum up a little extra cash. We waste money on such silly projects as alligator marketing - and please tell me how that is addressing the global warming situation and stabilizing our energy conservation and natural resources? Show me the money!!!! to fix the problems!!!
http://green.yahoo.com/news/afp/20090526/sc_afp/climatewarmingusbritainchu.html

Life in the Burbs

Reach out and touch someone - but not your next door neighbor. I love my home and my neighborhood - most of the time. Today was the exception. Homes in this area are parked close together like cars in a used car lot. Walls are thin and every house has a screened lanai where most of us relax kick back and argue. Not I - I take it inside and shut all the doors. No dirty laundry here. Some of the neighbors have a different view on hanging out their dirty clothes.
The house directly behind mine has a yappy (non-stop) little mutt. If only his vocal cords would become stretched and unusable. Or lock the little bugger in the garage and maybe the rest of us could have some peace and quiet.
Then, there is the ethnic family to the back right. I say ethnic because they swear and curse in a foreign language. It might be okay to listen but I cannot understand a word they are shouting about. So what's the point? I come inside because they are going full force over something or other and apparently want the whole world to know about the issue.
Over to the back left we have the porta-potty mouths. They scream curse words that I have never even heard of. It also has cars coming and going at all hours of the day and night - and they never stay very long. Quick pick-up of something? Occasionally I hear what I think is a pop like a gun going off. I head inside for cover.
We have the wanna-be race driver around the corner that use the cul-de-sac as a race track. And the business person that keeps a fleet of vehicles at his disposal at all times. It's sort of fun in a perverse sort of way watching the wanna-be race driver making the turn by the parked vehicles.
On the next street over someone is always and forever mowing their lawn. And the lawn service people really like to get that 6:30 AM start on a Saturday morning when the rest of us need their beauty sleep because back left argued all night long and it's hot so my windows were all open.
Across the street dogs bark, cars backfire and the sirens scream through the air polluting my air space. The kid on the skateboard and all his friends urging him on with wild shouts to make that one sweet jump over the garbage cans placed in the middle of the road make me wish I didn't know him but he's mine. It's just a loud noisy place in which to live.

5 People You Meet In Heaven

I loved the book - "Five People You Meet In Heaven'.
Too bad we wait till the end to figure this out.

Five things that make me HAPPY.

1. Family
2. Honesty
3. Truth
4. Hope
5. Solutions

I'll get you and your little dog to

When my life spirals out of control I have what I refer to as my 'vehicle' dreams. It's a dream about some type of vehicle and it is usually operated by me and totally out of control or on some collision path with disaster. I am constantly trying to figure out the meaning or underlying psychosis of my dreams.

I've read that it's not the dream but the repetitive theme of one's dreams. Cars or vehicles represent your life and when they are out of control so is your life. And with me that usually is the case and I begin trying to get my life back on track and rolling smoothly or at least with fewer bumps and road blocks.

Lately, I've been having dog dreams. Like my 100 pound shepard lying on the ever so skinny window ledge staring at me. As I look at him and wonder how did he ever jump that high with his bad hips and how did he get out of the fence? At that very instant with our stares being locked I wake up and there is the old boy staring at me through the sliding glass doors of the bedroom. Creepy at best.

The next night another bizarre dream about the Ronster Man. Last night was a little different - still a dog dream but not about my dog. My mind is working furiously this morning with an extra cup of coffee to see the correlation between my dog dreams. Are the dog dreams taking over for my vehicle dreams?

Life is spinning as usual, stress is precariously high, finances are shriveling and add the economic doom to my already floundering insecurities and I end up - just a mess. 'Going to hell in a hand basket'. Not quite sure the interpretation of that phrase but pretty sure I am edging toward that hand basket. Perhaps it is a hot air balloon basket and it will be uplifting and enjoying. Focus on the positive!!! Somewhere over the rainbow.....

My name is might-have been, I am also called no-more too-late - farewell. D. G. Rossetti.

At first this poetic piece seems to be overloaded with negativity, gloom and doom but I see it through my rose clouded glasses as an inspiration to keep my chin up and plod forward to my destination. This morning my destination is work and watching the hatchet fall. Ouch - maybe it won't be me. Rephrase that - It will not be me. Follow, follow, follow, follow - follow the yellow brick road. And the entire time Toto will be at my feet.

House smells like dog

The house smells like a dog and not that cute sweet puppy breath smell. Stinky-wet dog smell. The kind that flips the contents of your stomach inside-outside-upside down. Thank you Dr. Zeus for reminding me of that wonderful rhyming book.

Mr. Smell-no-good gets a weekly or sometimes monthly bath and that is a major fun time. Within a few days Mr. Smell-no-good stinks again no matter what kind of perfume I spritz him with. The stench is nauseating. The house is closed up all day and this horrific offensive odor permeates everything.

Perhaps if Mr. Smell-no-good would stay in the garage the house would smell more like I want - such as a tropical paradise. I keep the garage cool for him with a gigantum double fan but no he prefers to keep his stench topside - inside, rather than outside.

I started putting chlorophyll (should have used chloroform) in his drinking water because I read that that will kill the smell. But 'he' who will not be named rearranged the garage and all the excess much needed but never used stuff. So my chlorophyll is somewhere in the depths of junque in the garage.

So Mr. Smell-no-good continues to stink up the house and climb on the couch. And I just wish for a dog that smells good or to find my bottle of chlorophyll.

Watching Farrah die

And soon, too soon.
We part with pain.
To sail o'er silent seas again.
Thomas Moore

I decided not to watch the documentary on Farrah's imminent death because cancer is such an ugly toxic reality to living and family members. I'd rather crawl in my hole and pull the lid tightly over closing off all of the finality's that life passes out sometimes. I thought it best to remember Farrah with her golden locks and giant wide smile with all those perfect white teeth.

I also prefer spending my time fussing over my own issues, problems and consequences. Last night I wondered at what particular time of day the pool would overflow from all the rain (rain we desperately need) and flood the house. Since we have no flood insurance would the pool spilling over be an act of god? The poor dog had a ruff night last night also. He for whatever reason got closed in the lanai with no escape route and it rained all night. Nowhere for him to get out of the downpour. The fool stayed there all night long getting drenched to the bone and never once barking. At 3 AM this morning I woke up and saw him staring at me through the sliding glass door. He spent the remainder of the morning sleeping on the living room rug. I'll bet that will smell sweet on the next hot humid day.

Speaking of sleep I have been avoiding that task lately. My insomnia has flared up like the nostrils of the devil himself. I believe that lack of any meaningful-restful sleep is directly connected to the much heated discussions with the kid. Living with a teenager can be stressful. I can just imagine what it must feel like to be him. I need more patience or something. My positiveness with him has washed away with the pool water.

The job situation also interferes with my sleep or lack thereof. Budget cuts and the economy being in the open dirty cesspool tarnish the image of a fruitful life - but I have lots of peaches (fruit) on my peach tree. So if I look for the good-happy signs my train will get back on the track.

'Good morning America how are you?

Don't you know me I'm your native son?

I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans,

I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.'

by Steve Goodman

So I passed on the Farrah special or in my opinion the not so special. I care not to watch someone die. It rips the fragile soul to shreds and makes my train fall off the track and pass through graveyards of rusted automobiles. I shall focus on the brights spots of the day like the rain that fills the newly resurfaced pool waiting to spill over the edge but we desperately need this rain. My grass is getting green - wait it's just weeds - but they are green and no one will know. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and a footprint in the sand.

Boca Vista final phase COMPLETE

The pool is complete and it's wonderful to back back in the swim of things. The raft has been removed from the garage and the swim barbells are in constant use.

Jerry Seinfelds parents would be proud.

Oil of Disappointment

I decided to make some sweet smelling fragrance stones. They contain flour, salt, cornstarch and fragrance oil. Fragrance oil is expensive so in these dire times of a down economy I only purchased one bottle of oil. That set me back an hours salary. So I needed to conserve my fragrance oil at those prices and wondered why people complain about the cost of gasoline! Apparently they have never purchased fragrance oil.

I mixed up the batter for my stones, rolled them out and cut them in cute little circle fluted designs. The fragrant stones didn't have a whole lot of fragrance and they really smelled like old flour. Must be because I skimped (a whole lot) on the expensive fragrance oil. I had a bottle of liquid potpourri and I pored it over my ill smelling fragrance stones.

I placed my now soggy bottom boys fragrance stones on a slotted baking rack and placed them in the hot Florida sun in the screened lanai. The instruction say they needed to dry and my soggy bottom boys needed lots of drying time in the hot Florida sun. I go on about my daily business of trying to look busy and staying cool. I left the house to buy groceries with nothing in my cart even coming close in price to the fragrance oil.

I read a chapter of my book, washed clothes, swept the floor and started lunch. The intense heat of the day drove me inside but for some odd strange peculiar reason the dog Ronster Man stayed outside in the hot sun. The day slipped by and I forgot about my fragrance stones baking in the hot Florida sun. Big boy Ronster Man did not forget about my fragrance stones that still smelt like old flour. The golden yellow sun was dipping below the treeline and I ventured outside in the hot humid atmosphere to retrieve my fragrance stones that weren't very fragrant and smelt like old flour. I spied my slotted baking rack sitting empty on the table top in the lanai. No fragrance stones that smelt like old flour were visible. I looked at the Ronster Man lounging by the side of the pool with remnant crumbs lying next to him.

Thoughts swirled inside my raging brain that it was a good thing that I did not use the required amount of fragrance oil that the directions stated. I hope my fragrance stones that smelt like old flour gives him permanent indigestion. In my world nothing is sacred around this fur shedding eating machine. Perhaps I could invent a new fragrance oil - Oil of Disappointment.

Cinderella's Castle

I see what I want to see, hear what I want to hear and think what I want to think. This is how my mind functions and it works for me. It doesn't matter that I wear very tinted glasses or my head is beneath the sand. I like the way I interact with the world - my world. Looking at a bright yellow sunflower is so much better than looking at my dead brown grass. Even the pretty weeds in my yard give me pleasure - sometimes. It's so much easier viewing pleasantries than getting sucked under by the ugliness - and yes weeds can be beautiful.

I suppose no know really knows about fresh donuts they way I do. Really fresh and sometimes warm (Krispy Kreme) donuts contain less calories if eaten right from the box than donuts that are several hours or a day old. You see the fresh ones are lighter therefore must contain less calories.

Exercise has more benefits when performed in a cute little spandex exercise outfit. Overdoing exercise and getting sweaty can cause mascara run - a definite negative in my book of fruitless thoughts. Exercise in a pool in a sleek new bathing suit or nothing at all burns off excess fat. Swimming nude at a nudist colony would surely motivate the lax exerciser. Never tried that and pretty sure I never will. Some things are best left to the imagination or nightmares.

Drink responsible has such a stupid ring to it - sort of like saying 'chocolate is bad for you'. Chocolate is food from the gods. Tell an alcoholic or a teen trying to impress his chickie to 'drink responsibly. Those words will go over Niagara Falls in a wooden barrel without any airholes. A better slogan would be to 'Think Responsible' or 'Dream Responsible'. Dreaming has a truer quality and is like a travel channel inside your head. When one doesn't drink responsible their travel plans get cancelled and they did not pay the extra insurance to get a refund. Thinking responsible does have a few drawbacks - like - why am I writing this? Wait - I am not thinking just rambling.

Driving down the road I see one shoe tossed indiscriminately in the middle of the road. I have tried to imagine and justify to my inquisitive and slightly warped brain how this one shoe got itself in the middle of the road. And where is the mate? It's always, always - just one shoe lost in highway hell. Does the person ever realize they have lost one shoe? Were they not drinking responsible when this episode took place? Are they walking around the world or their town with one shoe on? Was it their favorite shoe? Or does this give them a reason to go shoe shopping? Not that I or anyone else need a reason to go shoe shopping. Shoe shopping is a right of passage, a divine pleasure, a necessity and chicken soup for the sole.

This morning my thoughts are swirling like whirled peas on steroids - wait I do take steroids - that must be the problem. It's not that I want to take steroids but the doctor ordered them perhaps to give me a reason to eat low calories fresh donuts or keep me coming back so he can collect my co-pay and vacation on some tropical island. And since I am not a professional baseball player my steroid consumption does no harm to my game of life. Or does it?

Family Reunion

I have come to the conclusion that there are no 'normal' families out there. Dysfunction is the norm and my family is right up there at the top or over the top. If it were a triathlon we would take first place. If a relay is involved we might possibly come in dragging and arguing bringing up the rear end or otherwise referred to as the horse's behind.

Family dysfunctions are rampant in my point of view. I see them everywhere like dead people. Each family has their own distinct style and mode of operation. Sometimes I get giddy just watching the interactions of other families and then I am reminded of my own family and my balloon not only burst it melts in the heat of the moment.

We are the Clampets gone to Washington riding a bike through the evening sky with an alien sitting in the basket. And if only my brother would junk that 100 year old rusted bike into the nearest recycling plant I would feel a whole lot better. He purchased a shiny sparkly brand new bike but he is saving that for when the old one falls apart. Funny how he can't see that the old one is holding together by just a few rusted spokes. Throw it away and the little dog too.

In the birth order scheme the oldest sibling is said to be a leader but then Castro was at one time a leader and that wasn't pretty. When you tell me to walk in a straight line I will immediately begin to walk in circles. You can make your wife and children jump and bow down but do not expect me to comply. You are not the boss of me even if you are the oldest.

Being the middle child the books say I have a few issues. I love my issues and they make me who I am. I believe that is why I connected with another middle child as we understand the family dynamics. Now we have started our very own dysfunctional family called moon unit one.

Sisters are special, especially younger ones. For whatever reason she follows the leader and cowers in his presence. That birth order thing gets to you every time. She tries to appease the the commander in chief and I just lurk in the shadows. It's much nicer in the shadows.

Then, we come to the baby in the family and that is 'more worser' than Pandora's Box. I will leave that mystery box firmly wrapped in open proof cellophane.

Sometimes I am surrounded by myst and mysteries. I have read the books, The Myst, and Eragon and many others that touched my soul. My soul is a tattered and fragile component of myself. The souls of my siblings is another matter.

We are who we are and that is a family no matter how dysfunctional, bizarre or off the navigational charts - we be. Perhaps this type of dysfunction is really normal and THAT is scary. Maybe all of those so called 'normal' families exist only in the minds of psychologist or writers. We are the dodo birds - one hopelessly behind the times - related to pigeons but larger than turkeys - an extinct bird on the island of Reunion.

Birthday Suit

Today is hubby's birthday and I decided to get him an ice cream cake. I went to Carvels and when I saw the price I felt like I was inside that freezer. $20.00 bucks for a cake made out of no more than a gallon of ice cream. WHOA!!!!

Then I spied the 'Happy Mother's Day' cakes. Same price but different lettering. Then, my wheels started turning and since it was the end of 'Mother's Day' I thought they should be half price. Should I ask? I could take it home and scape off the 'Happy Mother's Day' and add 'Happy Birthday'. Is that way too cheap?

He will never know.

Happy Birthday Rob......................

Lemon Custard

Here I am again, sitting in front of the computer tapping away looking out the window partially blocked by the cat. The sun is glimmering off of the palm fronds in my neighbors yard. The sun is just beginning to peak over the roof of the house next door. The cat sitting on the window sill is a little obstruction but if I try to make her move she will bite me. Golden green fronds sway silently in the morning breeze. It will be a beautiful day.

This morning the sky looks like yellow parfait. This weeks focus in classes is on analogies. Lemon meringue pie is like the morning sky. My pale yellow roses become one with the lemon sky.

I am thankful for -

my roses right outside my window

the beauty of the morning sun

my computer is working better

a hubby who fixes my overloaded computer

pool water temperature has hit 86 degrees

summer almost here

the cat has left her spot on the window sill.

Boca Vista almost the final phase

There's water in the pool - ice cold water as the pump and solar heater have not been activated. We are waiting for the final phase to be completed add all those nasty chemicals (wish it were a salt system) turn on the solar heater, let it warm up and jump in.

My excitement is uncontainable. Ron wants back in also but I'm not sure I want dog hair messing up my new pool liner.

We have been without the pool for far too long. I see a summer of swimming, pool lounging, cool drinks and good books.

Boca Vista Phase II

The pool finish is starting to emerge.

What women want

There was a movie once with that title - 'What Women want', but they missed the mark by a mile or more. I guess I should speak for myself and not clump all women together because we obviously want different things in life.
In a divorce the assets are split 50-50. I want the assets split without the divorce. I want control over the t.v remote in the bedroom. I want it and I want it now and forever. So, you know who you are - keep your hands off my assets. It's mine. You control the living room t.v. remote so stop being so selfish and leave mine alone.
Wow - I feel better already for stating my wants and needs. Now, I've got to find a place to hide my t.v. remote from - he who cannot be named.
If the truth be told this is really what women want. Remote control. Perhaps groups could be started to get this movement into the limelight. Support groups for serious offenders would spread like the wildfires in Myrtle Beach.
Oprah could do a program on how women can take back control of the t.v. remote. Maury Povich can do DNA testing of t.v. remotes to see which suspect uses the t.v. remotes the most. Chris Hansen could do a t.v. remote sting on who tries to control the remotes. Dr. Phil could help us come to grips with our emotions. We could even involve Judge Judy for she would side with the women. Wouldn't she? The local news could slip in a few catty remarks in their morning fluff stories. Then, we could get political and see who hogs the t.v. remotes the most - Democrats or Republicans? And are these t.v. remote hogs mostly male?
What women really want would be changed to what women are entitled to.

Pool Progress

The pool is starting to look like a pool once again. Still missing the main component -water. The workers will be back early this morning to do their magic. Soon, soon the work will be completed and water will fill the belly and then - swimming will begin.

Brutus

Manatees.....

Break Dancing

I e-mailed my daughter and asked if she would take her nephew my grandson for a weekend. She replied with a ‘sure, but not this weekend’. I then upped the ante and asked if he could stay with her for a whole week. I could hear her wheels spinning across the net. Well, what would he do all week long at my house while I’m at work? I would reply. The same thing he does here while we are at work, sleep till noon, eat everything in the house, leave his dirty dishes in the sink, in the bathroom and on the floor, leave a ring around the tub, drop his dirty socks in the hallway, download bad stuff on the computer, text his friends and expect to be waited on.
But then, if I told her the truth she would not take him and give us a much needed break. I’m still waiting for her e-mail response.

Update, I received her response to my begging e-mail about doing her duty as an aunt. ‘A weekend would be much better as he would be alone all day at the house with nothing to do and no place to go.’ Well, he really has nothing to do here and no place to go because he has no money. So, I guess we can only send him for a weekend; perhaps a long weekend would work. Memorial Day is right around the corner.