Robert did it

Great vacation with friends and family. Traveled to one of my favorite spots - Key West. A strange and bizarre place on earth. Visited the East Martello Museum for the first time and met - face-to-face with Robert the doll. A long history behind Robert the doll and his owner. Robert is on You tube and has many many stories about him and his antics. He has his own website - www.robertthedoll.org.
Check out his blog....http://keywestrobert.blogspot.com

So while visiting the museum and Robert the doll high up on a rooftop with my very own Robert I snapped a photo. Very interesting museum. When out and about please visit the West Martello Museum an almost replica of the East Martello Museum just a little mortar damage. Awesome flowers and a great ocean view.

www.kwahs.com/martello.htm

Stupid Award

Stupid is as stupid does. What? If you're stupid you're stupid or just somewhere out there in oblivious land. So - move over Forrest - Forrest Gump. No shrimp casserole today. Actually we had tuna steaks on the grill this weekend - delicious!! Which really has nothing to do with this subject.

We are planning the great American Christmas Eve dinner at our house. Hubby is cooking the whole shabam. He's such a sweetie-snookums-pie. Holiday eat a thons' are not held very often at our abode. First our humble home is small and for the two of us it usually works out fine. We have the lanai that does hold lots of folks but it's winter in Florida and we party inside.

So sitting 5 people around our holiday table is a task or an impossible feat. Hubby drags the large table from the depths of the outside storage shed as a temporary replacement for our round tiny dining room table built for two. It will not hold a party of five. Handyman starts to remove the legs off the round small table a table that we have owned for at least 5 years. It's a nice table with a matching sideboard - bought second hand but in great condition.

Whalah - two legs are off and what do our wondrous eyes behold???? An extension table leaf tucked nicely beneath the small round table. A miracle. Now our small tiny table becomes almost banquet size and room for all five people ready to party and eat. Who knew? Certainly not us - the table owners.

Happy+Happy=Happier

The cold weather seems to have headed to the north - thank you thank you. Now - we have the rain which is acceptable but along with the cold and dreary weather - I'm starting to get sick YUCK!!! Last holiday season the asthma sent me on a downward whirlwind to a place I absolutely do not want to return to. I detest being sick. I just want to have fun.

Trying to finish up wrapping presents, getting vacation ready which includes cleaning and decluttering the house for guests. It's a marvelous thing those closets - they hide lots of stuff. The garage is useless cuz it's already overflowing with stuff. Garage sale in the spring sounds mighty good.

Sprinkling out - walk to get the paper may be written off the 'to - do' list. Getting excited about Christmas dinner with family and friends and the really-really good part is hubby is in charge of doing all the food fixins. I can be supervisor and taste sampler.

1. I am happy I have such an awesome spouse.
2. I am happy winter break is almost here.
3. I am happy for the travel plans we have made.

Florida Freeze

It's been cold in Florida lately and we are not at all conditioned to this blast of frigid air. We are flip-flop junkies in shorts and t-shirts. I would do barefoot if not for all those dang sand spurs. OUCH!!!!

So the little guy who hasn't much fur at all and just about hairless on his little belly began to shake. Poor baby doesn't like this cold weather either. Off we go to the land of Wallyworld - very early in the morning to miss the barrage of rather strange looking individuals who walk the trails to Walmart. And yes, I spotted one on the way out and no camera to document the episode. Some parts of the body just need to be covered - cold or not cold.

I purchased the little guy a red plaid flannel jacket and he looks so sweet. He is now a brave kitty-cat hunter. Whatever - at least his shivering has stopped. Monday night the freeze is supposed to hit so we are prepared.

Distance

Is there that thin slice of time when dreams swirl with reality and melt? Where red and blue become purple. Are those feelings and sensations a product of the here and now or just a cloud passing over the land of what might be?

Reaching out to touch and finding immobility washing over the body and mind. Surrounded by the desire to validate perceptions and roll to a different drummer with the sounds playing a gentle earthy rhythm.

Eyes are tightly shut surveying a vast empty field overflowing with colors colliding with fog. The soft sounds and the movement of air wrap around as if smothering and at the same time dripping a rainfall of peace. Which way to go?

Am I lost and confused in my dream world or facing life with a jar full of bitterness and bliss? If this is real why does my body lay motionless? In a silent wait for what is to come. Directions are blurred. Open those eyes and get on with life.

It must have been a dream or perhaps a nightmare that grabbed my being and spun me around - pricking my sleeping senses of the pain in the world transferred to myself. How ? I ask can a dream mix with reality and stain the soul? Like a tiny sand spur breaking through skin - tuff as leather and causing a limp to last for days. The art of life and living melting red into yellow and changing to orange.

Dead Sea Spa

When I was a younglin - many moons ago - our medicine cabinet consisted of - mecuricome, iodine and Epsom salt. Band aids were an old torn white sheet. We did not have pastel colored Egyptian 600 thread count cotton sheets.

Recently I have been struggling with a plethora of ailments, Asthma has been flaring up relentlessly. Now the back hurts. Getting old is not a pretty sight for me. Get over it - be positive and be proactive.

I decided to make my own bathroom into a personal spa for mwa. At a closeout store (because I'm always on the look out for a bargain or plain old cheap) I purchased dead sea bath crystals, dead sea bubble bath, dead sea lotion and beach scented candles. My spa was ready and it cost me pennies. Then I did spend $12.00 for a pair of soft plushy slippers. My only super indulgence. I deserve it.

I took a large beach towel and tossed it in the dryer with a linen scented dryer sheet. I plopped myself in the hot tub with my dead sea scrolls and soaked. It felt so good that I soaked a second time. It was ever so refreshing and relaxing.

My research began on Epsom salt, magnesium and the dead sea. Over and over again I read about magnesium (Epsom salt) removes toxins from your body and pretty much looks like a miracle cure. According to the web it helps with blood pressure, muscles aches, breathing in general and asthma. HHHMMMM. Perhaps I have found a cure for my ailments.

I think back and remember the medicine cabinet in my home. There sat the medical cure for ailments right on the shelf. I have found the fountain of youth.

check out this site.......
http://www.epsomsaltcouncil.org

Who dat?

The little guy jumps up in the bed and sits down right smack in the middle amongst pillows and rumpled sheets. He turns his head and looks straight on in the huge mirror that sits atop a very large dresser. Grrr. His ears stand on edge and wiggle. Grrrrrrrr. He starts to shake, then turns his head away from the mirror and the scary image.

His little head swivels back facing the mirror. A little snarl slips across his lips. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. Woof. He begins to shake again. His face turns away. He looks up at me with those pitiful brown eyes saying - "Who is that fool trying to stake out my territory?"

His head spins back to the mirror his fur standing on edge with his ears making points to the ceiling. GGGGRRRRRRRR. YIP.

GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. He stands up to get a better view of the culprit in the mirror. His ears twitch and his nose wiggles - trying to sniff out the unwanted guest staring back at him. Grrr. His tiny body trembles.

He plops his little body beneath the crumpled sheets and hides his face from the fright that is confronting him - face to face. A little grrr slips out. And his thoughts seem to say - "You can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread dog."

We are not the brightest crayon in the box.

Manatee Madness

I have mailbox envy. It eats away at my self worth and cul-de-sac status. I have no idea how many people have this disorder? Perhaps it is only me. How sad is that? To be or not to be the only crazy with mailbox envy - but woe is me.

I decided to hit this strange disorder head on - face first and at the curb. My current pathetic mail holder (an embarrassment to the entire neighborhood) sits crookedly on a post that has truly seen better days and would be better off in a landfill for broken posts and forgotten dreams. The mail box is black metal - bottom of the line - and was at one point in time covered (looks like gorilla gloo) with narrow wooden slats glued to old black metal receptacle.

Time, weather and a general lack of care has caused said wooden faded, fungus covered slats to fall off and disappear into some oblivion world never to be seen again. What is left on black faded metal container for mail is that funny looking gorilla gloo. A vomit provoking sight to have and behold till death do us part. The death of the black metal bin sitting on the wooden crooked post.

My quest began in earnest to replace this deplorable tacky mailbox and the sad wooden post. I found my dream deluxe mailbox along the streets in the Florida Keys. WOW - I wanted one of those pretty babies perched next to my driveway. It seemed like so many people had this awesome deluxe mailbox. I had to have one - to keep up with the Jones's and to satisfy my mailbox envy.

There she was - and I could tell the mailbox was a SHE. I can just figure out those sorta things. It's this bizarre knack I have. My need-to-have-must-have dream mailbox was a manatee. She is grey and stands proudly with flippers pointing straight out holding a metal box. I wanted that mailbox!!!!

So, I stopped at an establishment somewhere along the keys and asked about my dream mailbox. I no longer wanted mailbox envy - I wanted the real deal. The proprietor stated that the Manatee mailbox was $299.00. Okay I could mortgage the house to get this awesome mailbox. Price was of no concern to me. Then he says the little mama weighs 450 pounds made of solid cement and takes four people to load the endangered species onto a flatbed. Actually he said four men but I feel that is a sexist statement. Now that is a problem the weight not the sexist statement.

She will certainly not fit in the back of our mini sized pick-up and travel up the coast of Florida to her new home. And the cost of shipping is way out of the question due to the fact that a second house mortgage would secure the mailbox and I couldn't possible take out a third mortgage to transport her to her new home.

I guess I could rent a post office box. I have turned the bend - gone in another direction and perhaps given up my dream of owning a 450 pound cement manatee mailbox. This is where I have gone.....http://www.savethemanatee.org/news_psa_holiday_10.html.

New Years Resolution

I am being 'Proactive' - starting early and getting all my ducks in a row. I am contemplating my New Years Resolution for 2011. My resolution for 2010 is almost complete. It was get healthier and STOP getting sick all the time. It has improved at least the asthma end of things the back is another story.

So my thinking quest for the next years resolution is producing excellent results. I am still in the fine tuning stage and it will be completed by January first.

It begins in the front yard. My plan or resolution is for my entire yard to take on the ambiance of a Key West cottage. I shall begin on the front yard and slide gracefully into the backyard to have a tropical oasis surrounding my abode.

I have made a suggestion to hubby about this but I believe the idea floated right over the top of his head. This will need some fine tuning. And he has done an awesome-awesome transformation on the front of the house. So I know he will produce fantastic Key West looking results in the front yard.

Thankful

Hubby and I spent Thanksgiving week at Sigsby in the R.V. park - the military base in Key West. My second oldest brother spends his winter life nestled among the throng of other snowbirds at this awesome park. The park sits right on the water at the end of the base. Total seclusion and quiet is what this place is all about. Well, not exactly. The residents or snowbirds who put down their awnings at the military base are quite a collection of individuals.

They come from all parts of the U.S. and all branches of the military. What they seem to have in common is their fellowship and giving attitudes. If one needs help setting up camp their is always a helping hand. Camaraderie at its finest. It's an amazing sight to witness - especially with all the selfishness surrounding our everyday lives. It felt good to be amongst people who cared.

On Thanksgiving Day we were guest to an enormous feast put on by the MWR. The only contribution was a dish to pass. We ate outside under a huge tent as the rain first misted and then poured down to earth. The company was interesting and ever so friendly. I was still in my impressed mode. 'Why can't we all just get along.'
Our holiday week was a true life experience being thankful for what we have and what we can pass along.

Holiday Hell

The holiday adventure took off on a happy note the sourness came later. I placed the little guy's doggie bed in the back seat of the car on top of a suitcase so he could have a view and he was well behaved. He barked once at a boat as we were crossing the Skyway bridge - other than that he was just about close to perfect.

Arrived at the hotel after dark and he did his poop - thank you goes to the poop fairy. The hotel was clean and the bed was ever so comfy with the little guy staying at the foot of the bed his doggie bed sitting empty on the floor. I saw no signs of bedbugs - always a good sign in a hotel. Good nights sleep and off we went the next morning to the Keys and paradise.

On the way to paradise I just had to stop at a sandal factory in Key Largo. I got out of the car and immediately wacked my toe on the cement curb. Ripped off the entire top of my little piggy wiggy toe and the sucker bled like Niagara Falls. Hubby found me a band-aid to cover the mess. It still bled leaving my DNA everywhere. Hurt a little also. Actually it hurt like hell. The store was nice enough to let me bring the little guy into the store. Bought nothing as the prices were quite high and the toe was bleeding all over the floor. Continued the drive to paradise.

The weather was awesome on that first day in paradise. A glitch to get on base. Were were sent to Boca Chica to get written and authorized-notorized- proof to enter the base. That took over an hour of filling out papers and interrogation. I stood outside with the little guy with his fold able water dish (awesome traveling tool) till my time to go inside and be admonished by civilians on a military base. In my confusion I left my precious water dish sitting in the parking lot and away we drove.

Thursday morning cloudy and misty. I took the four legged one for a walk along the beach - hoping for a poop out of him. All of a sudden I felt a sharp pain on the top of my foot. I looked down and there was this small black bug type of thing stinging me. I gave it a whack and continued the walk. It started to burn and swell up. I dumped peroxide over the wound which was red and swollen then plastered it with anti itch cream. I waited for the Rocky Mountain Fever symptoms to set in for my demise. Red bumps popped out all over the top of my foot. Life goes on.

Thanksgiving dinner was outside under a tent in the rain. The food was good and the company was intriguing. The speed limit on base is 15 miles per hour - a difficult task at times and always on the look out for speed traps - military.
That night the downpour hit us like a rouge wave - unexpected and not mentioned by the weather people. Everything we left outside was sopping wet including hubby's Kino sandals.

Hubby got a blister between his toes from the wet sandals so shopping was out of the question. His hiking boots were water logged so a search for dry shoes began on Black Friday. He ended up with an over priced pair of water shoes that most likely he will never wear again.

Live and learn - which we are not able to accomplish. The next night or the wee hours in the morning the monsoons came again and YES - we left stuff exposed. Vacationing in paradise is not always easy. Will we do it again? Yes, next month. Although next time I will watch where I am walking and bring lots of shoes and perhaps a tarp.

Please Poop

How sad and a little bizarre that our life has turned into this. Who woulda thought. Our life now seems to be controlled by an eight pound little rescue mutt. A few weeks after he came to live with us and become our ruler we celebrated by ordering pizza. Uncle Dave even came to meet up with the little rascal. The little munchkin was given pizza.

After a trip to the vets office, pills, prescription and less a bundle of money it was presumed the little guy had a delicate tummy. All table foods were off limits. I bought special dog food and life moved along.

Then, I made the fatal mistake. I gave the little bugger a piece of pizza crust. Can't remember what the occasion was for more pizza. But who needs a special occasion to order pizza.

So, the little guy snarfed down that pizza crust like a snapping turtle. A day later he was lethargic, crying (so pitiful) and very clingy. The light bulb went on inside my pigeon brain and I admitted to hubby about the pizza.

The watch begins. When will he poop it out. A search of the Internet begins in earnest. How to mend the tummy of a canine. Mineral oil popped up several times. Off I go to the store and buy canned dog food and mineral oil. Mix it together and wait for the dump. Day two - no poop. More mineral oil and more canned dog food.

More research on the Internet. Of course the little bugger can't get a tummy ache on a weekday - always a weekend.

Day three - more canned dog food and mineral oil. We walk around like fools searching for a pot of gold but in reality we are looking for him to poop. We follow him like a bad dream. In the darkness of the night we follow with a flashlight looking for a drop of the nasty.

Finally on day three it comes out. A little runny. Okay stop with the mineral oil. We are taking the little baby on his first trip across state and we can't have a dog with the trots riding down and interstate with no place to stop and drop a mess.

So we continue our vigil and watch him when he discards his remains in the back yard. Watching and waiting for the mess to thicken and life will get back to normal. Well - maybe. Then - what's normal. Certainly not following a dog around in the dark of the night with a flashlight waiting for him to poop.

So we have become vigilante poop inspectors. What a fine job to have and hold. Wait - don't step in that!

Just Do It!

I have no idea why the process takes soooo long. I stand outside at 5 AM in my nightgown in the backyard - sometimes very cold or raining - holding a flashlight hoping the neighbors are not watching the episode.

Why can't you just run up to a bush and let er rip? Like most doggies.....
No you take your time trotting out to the back yard and then doing a canvas of the entire back yard looking for the perfect spot. Come on - get over it - just pee. You've held it all night long. Do you really need to sniff every blade of grass? Walk - not run - from one side of the huge yard to the other in search of. What? It's just a place to pee.

Then, the magical spot is found and there is the tiniest bit of noise on the other side of the fence. Your doggie alarm voice blast the quiet morning. All concentration for that perfect spot is lost in a moment.
The neighbors lights go on. Oh NO!!!! Time for me to hide behind a bush. This nightgown is not the best.
I aim the flashlight at a place where if I were a dog I would pee. But -NO. Off you go again scanning the entire yard to piddle.

So the morning pee sometimes takes 20 minutes. UGGGG!!!! What will we do when we take you on vacation with so many strange noises and interruptions. How will the peeing ever take place? Just do it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Klutzzz Syndrome

I am superb at performing odd twists of fate. Actually if the truth be told I may end up in the Guinness Book of Records on how to perform stupid fumbles.
A friend sent me this statement and it reflects me like a mirror. Although I am prone to breaking mirrors and then my reflection gets distorted - WHATEVER.

I scream the same way whether I'm about to be eaten by a shark or seaweed touches my foot.

So this morning I let out one of those screams. No shark in my bedroom or seaweed. Unfortunately my bedroom has a door frame - and a door knob - and a door which I promptly shut. On my left hand - hence the blood curdling scream. At least it was my left hand.

How does one do stunts like this? If I only knew! After one of these episodes I often never-ever do the same performance. I move on to other disasters.

Dang.........my finger hurts. It's swelled so I removed my rings. The knuckle will never be the same. I am hoping the pain will ease up and the puffiness dissipates. I mean like - I have to go to work today. I can't call in sick and say "Oh by the way I slammed my hand in the bedroom door." That sounds so made up.

At this moment in time I am typing one handed. How will I make it through the day?

Death by Drugs

How does one cope when life is rolling downhill faster than a vehicle out of control with no brakes? There is nothing to slow down or stop the descent. No barriers to catch the fall - no relief from the inevitable. Rolling down watching the world slip away - helpless - alone or sometimes not so alone. There are others out there to listen and offer words of encouragement when everything seems hopeless. A shoulder to cry on a leaning post of strength to grasp with gnarled hands. They have been there done that and some have lost.

The pain, frustration and heartache overwhelm the soul and turn our most precious seconds into absolute horrors. When you think things can get no worse of course they do. The light at the end of the tunnel has been extinguished. For some sad souls the light will never shine again. The pain the others are left with is at times unbearable.

Hope has shriveled up like melted plastic. Sunny days become nightmares in which we are unable to wake from. Death and destruction litter our lives. A supreme feeling of hopelessness and helplessness cloud our every waking moment. Life as it is turns into a heap of sorrow and so many tears. When will the painful journey end? And please make the end a pleasant experience. For some it is not. A red hot poker burns eternally in their soul.

Drug addiction destroys families. Such a simple statement filled with so much harsh reality and devastation. Sitting by watching the spiral into darkness of those we love darkens our daylight and forever changes how and what we feel. Reaching out for a tiny shred of hope and salvation keeps us going. The hurdles are many and navigation through the maze is a slow process.

Drug addiction is like a raging forest fire and we must put out this fire before the entire universe is burnt to a crisp. Today I have a little hope and faith tingling inside my soul that my loved one will be saved. How many others will perish? My sadness for those is immense.

Tax Cut for Americans

I have devised a fail proof plan to lower taxes and improve our health. HHHMMM-----Why didn't I run for Governor of Florida. Wait - I am not a millionaire with loads of money to burn. I am a poor middle class(loosing ground quickly)individual who works my tail off. So my plans is....................

When one renews their license they need to be weighed and if they are not overweight they will get a reduction on their license fees. This promotes better health and less cost for our medical insurance and it will also increase jobs. We will need extra people to do the weigh ins. We can even go a step farther and drug test all potential drivers license renewals. If you are drug free including smoking your fees will be lowered. More people needed to run the drug testing means more jobs.

My next plan will be the grocery stores. Save all your receipts and photo copy them (more jobs in the ink business) and add them to your tax returns. The one who purchases the most fresh fruit and vegetables gets a tax break.

We move on to transportation. Every bike bought will come with a pedometer or bike-ometer and those with miles over 1,000 per year will get another tax break. Bicycle sales will go up producing more jobs. We could put pedometers on all sneakers sold and that mileage could be added to your tax break. Encouragement for children would be putting pedometers on skateboards and in line skates.

This is just my beginning thoughts on how to lower taxes and keep fit. My brain is running on empty and it needs a coffee break.

Stump Pass State Park

There are little almost hidden pockets of Florida that still resemble the OLD or REAL Florida as some refer to the last small escapes. Stump Pass State Park is on the very end of Manasoto Key which lies south of Nokomis and Englewood is one of theses little quiet pockets of paradise. It is inconspicuously tucked away at the end of this key and is truly amazing.

Eagles fly over their kingdom while box turtles walk the hiking paths and move out of the way for no one. Herons strut along the beach within inches from visitors. Osprey stare down at you from their perches and flutter their wings. Dolphins put on a daily show close to the sandy beach. Little sandpipers skitter across the wet sand in search of a meal. Egrets pose for photos on branches stuck permanently in the surf.

Shells are placed on overturned tree roots either by nature or human intervention. Shells litter the beach like a lumpy carpet. Sea oats blow gently to the music of the wind. And of course always the nasty deadly sand spurs. The sand soft and cool beneath your bare feet. Except for the waves slipping along the shoreline and an occasional boat their is a supreme quiet that drifts across the land.

One can get lost in the beauty and the wilderness. A little piece of paradise snuggled next to the hustle and bustle of Florida. A reprieve of traffic, high rises and shops is most welcome.

Hey - Hay

Winter is closing in upon Florida. It's cold. I retrieved my spring jacket and gloves from storage. I even put on a pair of sweatpants. The one and only pair I own. I can feel the coldness in the air. My thoughts wandered to my box turtles. The koi have taken refuge at the bottom of the pond and the water turtles are hiding under their overhang. All the critters including myself can feel the seasons changing.

I decided to place some hay in the box turtle enclosure so they can snuggle up and keep warm during the cold Florida winter, I trotted down to the Tractor Supply Store to purchase my hay. The last time I bought a bale of hay was a long time ago so I had sticker shock at the price of one bale of hay. I know all about inflation but this is unbelievable.

I used to buy my hay - one bale at a time - from a local farmer and it was a dollar a bale. At times I thought this was a little pricey. It's hard to price shop for a bale of hay.

My precious bale of hay was almost 7 dollars for one small bale. What? Is there gold in them there bales? Where is Rumpelstiltskin? The nice lady at the register informed me it was Coastal Hay. AND!!!!! Does coastal hay cost more than good old regular hay? Apparently so.

And I thought hay was hay. Come to think about it coastal hay is most likely absorbed salt from the coastal waters and could possibly be filled with a high sodium content. No nutrient labels on my bale of coastal hay. I hope the coastal hay doesn't adversely effect my little box turtles.

King of the Hill

Sometimes you just know when to throw in the towel. The game is over. You have heard the fat lady singing. Time's up and you have lost. It's a sad feeling. So, now get over it - move forward - move on to the next stumbling block, brick wall and the always waiting next issue in life. Mark the last one off your list of things that will never happen - out of my control or comfort zone.

We did our best - we worked as a team - we tried several strategies - but alas - he won and we lost. Such is life. It was even two against one and still we came out on the down side. Perhaps we gave up too soon. Who knows? Whatever! We will accept our fate and live with the consequences. We learned a lesson. We found out who really is in control and in charge of us and our life. We know who is the boss man and who pulls the strings. Except for when we go for our daily walks then I am in charge of pulling the string.

Actually it is not a string but a leash and I have control. Such a little accomplishment but it makes me feel good. We did come out the victor in that scenario. Baby steps and be happy. He does know which side of his bread is buttered on - not - that we give him bread and butter.

I am glad that he has a happy life. Who knows what went on in his life before us? It's a give and take issue although we seem to be giving more and he seems to be taking LOTS. That's okay. He is now King of the Hill or King of our bed.

Our bed is large and we will just have to suck it up and share our bed with him forever. He's small so the space in the bed that he occupies is minimal. Thank goodness he doesn't snore. And who knows what his presence will do to my asthma or allergies? The fabric has been laid out and cut and he will sleep with us indefinitely.

The joys of adopting a rescue dog are many. Is it easy? No. Is it satisfying? Yes. Statistics says people who own dogs are happier and live longer. We are just rolling on the floor laughing due to the fact that the little mutt has commandeered our bed for his very own kingdom.

SSSnakes

I live in a tropical area and the weather for the most part is warm and sunny. With that warm and sunny comes critters. More specific - snake critters. Yes - I know that snakes have a place in society but I DO NOT like snakes. Actually they terrify me even the non-threatening species. To me all the species are threatening.

We have snakes that reside in our yard and most of them are black racers. The term 'black racer' means they move really-really fast. And don't ever try to corner a black racer. They are not nice. Many of the black racers that dwell near my habitat are very large. Which scares me even more. I have seen them jump and pop up like a cobra right at ya. This scares me even more.

I do my best to give them space and stay out of their way. They do their thing and I do mine - like stay out of their way. On occasion I see baby black snakes and they tend to scurry out of your way as quick as possible. I like that tactic.
The other day I was cruising the back yard - dressed in the appropriate flip flops with toes and ankles exposed to the wonders of nature. I saw a slight dark movement. I stopped. The teenager black racer was about 8 inches long and not very large. But of course I panicked. I stepped a little too quickly to get out of his way and I guess he felt threatened. The nasty little bugger reared up and jumped right at me. He set my emotions in motion. I let out my sissy girl screamed and jumped which frightened the poor snake even more. He was coming at me. Me dressed in flip flops. I made a fast exit out of the yard.

So in the wee hours of the morning in the darkness when the dog needs to tinkle and just can't wait till the sun shines away all the scary stuff - I creep around the yard. I have my flashlight and watch every place I put down my feet - still encased in flip flops. Maybe it would be a good idea to wear shoes while patrolling the backwoods of my yard in the wee hours of the morning so the dog can piddle. Life would be good if the dog could hold it till daybreak.

Daylight Savings Time

I was trying to adhere to the 7 habits and tried my

hand at 'Be Proactive'. Well - as usual a dollar

short and a week too early. I set

all the clocks an hour back.

Fall behind! Spring ahead! Apparently my sprung has sprang. We don't turn

the clocks back till November 7. Helloooo - where have I been. Earth to

Matilda.....

So I also reneged on my tossing the old wretched bathing suit in the trash.

I just knew those weather people were dead wrong about a cold spell hitting

Florida. I have at least a few more days left for swimming - at least till we

change the clocks back.


Why do we have daylight savings time????????????

Trash it Today

Today is the day. Today the inevitable will take place. It's destiny. Time has run out the clock is no longer ticking and the earth - well the earth is still doing what it's supposed to be doing. But - I have to complete the dreaded task. It's over. I might have even heard the fat lady singing or perhaps it was the neighbors dog howling. All good things must come to an end.

The air has cooled a bit and the breeze surely feels like an ocean breeze and not a warm ocean breeze. You can feel the change in the air. Winter is settling upon Florida. The solar heater will no longer be able to keep the pool at a swimmable 82 degrees. And for this wuss 82 degrees is a mite chilly. I really prefer 86 degrees.

I have made promises to hubby and to myself that the suit just has to go. The purple shimmery-shiny tank suit purchased over 10 years ago for 2 bucks off the clearance rack has seen its last hurrah. It has never faded - well only in a few spots where it has become translucent. The 6 inch tear down the side has been mended twice and has begun to tear again. The threads are so bare it's impossible to stitch it back together.

It has stretched enough to cover the bodies of two people. The elastic in the legs and around the armholes disappeared several years ago. The back end of the suit sags to the back of my knees - what a sight that is. It's the kind of suit you never wear in front of people for the peep show you might see. It's time to say good-bye - adios - so long. This will be a hard thing for me to do. Toss the sorry scrap of spandex in the trash. In some ways it just doesn't feel right.

But a promise is a promise and it looks so awful-awful bad. It no longer does the job it was cut out to do. It's a sorry looking sight and I am ever so glad no one sees it but me and hubby and even that is unbearable at times. Hubby makes rude comments quite often. So today the once spiffy-shiny purple tank suit will grace some landfill someplace. I would recycle her if I only knew how. It might make a scary Halloween decoration. The light bulb has gone on. she will look pretty scary hanging from the lamppost outside by the sidewalk.

The grace of a klutz

Once again my svelte and grace has taken hold of my life. Actually it's holding on and not letting go - just holding on in all the wrong places. I go about my life placing one foot in front of the other and for me that is an extremely difficult task. Talk about two left feet - well I have two backward left feet.
And the left arch is still healing from surgery.

Last year I purchased this really-really-kool-awesome tower fan. This baby wasn't a cheap bargain basement product found on the clearance rack. I plunked down full price for this sweet piece of machinery. I like the movement of air blowing right on my face at night. One minor problem is right by my side of the bed is my dresser and right next to the dresser is the bathroom door. Space on my side of the bed is severely limited. How did I end up with the short end of the stick? Such is my life.

So - there sits the rather large fan inches from my side of the bed. So upon waking from dreamland I swing my legs off the side of the bed and WHACK. I make instant contact with my tower fan. Now picture this - it was a slow easy slide off the bed. I was not running a marathon. CRASH-BANG over goes the tower fan as my left foot makes contact with the tower fan. I might add it was an expensive fan - paid full inflated price for that baby. And of course it just had to be my healing left foot to take the blunt of it all.

The fan smashes to the floor in a gazillion pieces - never to be whole again. What a sad sad ending but it ain't over till the fat lady sings. Her sing was more or less a moan or a self pity whine. My big left toe - on the very end of my big left toe was a mammoth bruise. I didn't knock it that hard. Now my healing left foot has a big bad bruise on my big toe - more pain to add to my misery.

But alas - hubby sweet soul that he is put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Not me the full price paid for in hard earned cash tower fan. Perhaps we should trade sides of the bed. Wait there is a sliding glass door on his side of the bed and we have met in the past and that was not a fun experience. I'll take contact with the fan any day instead of running face first into the glass sliding doors.

Moon Cheese

I've always known it was true not just a myth. Not a fairy tale with princesses, frogs, evil witches and happily ever after. Some things way down deep in your heart or soul you just know are like magic. The feeling bubbles inside your thoughts and washes away all the dirt and dust that accumulates with life in general.

Wishes come true and happiness spills over you and smiles erupt and life is good. You try new ideas and float with the wind. The fresh morning breeze awakens all your senses and OH - that first cup of coffee. Sitting outside in the dark of the morning listening to the sounds of the new day breaking through.

Then - right up there high in the sky is the moon. Pulsing with rhythm and movement ever so slight. Painted with colors not on the color chart. Wonderment fills the space inside your sleepy head. Hot coffee warms your heart and starts your engine. And there she/he is all bright and beautiful shining down upon you.

The stories and folk tales spin round inside your head. At that moment in time captured forever is the true fact that the moon is really made of green cheese. I wonder where the green eggs and ham are?

Disappointments

There are many disappointments in life - just suck it up - go on - keep on truckin. I felt mine last night. I was so excited - charged - revvvved up and full of enthusiasm - then the axe fell. It was a slow fall so it took me awhile before the realization hit me. Actually it was when I became bombarded with mosquito's and they were eating me alive. So out of the pool I got. Uable to accomplish my goal.

7:22 in the south-south-west sky was the flight pattern. South-south?

What? Isn't south - south? Whatever. Why not just south-west? Perhaps I wasn't south enough.My strategy was to float in the pool gaze up at the heavens - south - south - west and watch for the space station to pass over me. It was going to be an awesome sight. But then those dang mosquito's started sucking blood - probably getting ready for Halloween. Floating in the pool became difficult.

I flipped off the raft and only kept my head above the water. Those little buggers were a buzzin around my head flying in my ears like they were at a drive thru window at a fast food restaurant. It really knocked my concentration for a sky dive.

Then, I saw the light. The light belonged to a plane. Then more lights - more planes. It was like Grand Central Station up in the south-south-west airways. What in hill are all those planes doing up there when the space station should be traveling by.

Then way -way far up in the clouds I saw a tiny little beam of light and my imagination swelled and I knew it just must be the space station drifting along. That's my thought and I'm holding on to it. Then the little light was gone drifting behind the pink of a very large cloud. And those dang mosquito's went to town on my ear lobes.

So I give in to the critters of the night and the stream of planes flashing high in the night sky and climb out of the pool. Disappointment washes over me but does little to ease the red bumps that are covering my wet body. Maybe in another 20 years I will get the chance to see the space station as it cruise by on its way to somewhere where mosquito's don't roam.

Humidity Hell

The humidity is back with a BANG! We had a little reprieve for a few days and that felt sooooo good. The pool was a bit cold but it is the end of October.

So what I dislike the most about humidity is the way it makes you feel and drip as if you were a slow moving waterfall. The problem with the drip-drip-drip is that it drips right down your face. That in itself makes wearing glasses in Florida extremely difficult. I walk around experiencing life in a fog. I trip, fall and stumble sometimes over my own feet.

Back to the humidity - it's tiring, yucky and it makes you smell like a dead animal. Your hairs soaked, your clothes are soaked and you just want to stay inside where it's cool. Or it would be if I turned the air condition on. But it's October almost November - how can I turn on the air?

I should be thankful my driveway is not covered in snow. I am - I am!!!!!

Stuck on you

I have this certain way about me, a specific mannerisms, movement, flow – it’s called KLUTZ. I can fall on the floor when I’m sitting on the floor. Now that takes a special talent. I wonder if there is a position for that particular endeavor.

I know sometimes I buy stuff that’s out-dated or from the dollar store or another bargain basement facility. It’s embedded in me – the need to purchase stuff at a discount. Most times there is a reason things are sold on clearance or at reject stores. And I flock to them like a moth to a candle light as soon as he gets in close proximity of the candle his wings catch on fire.

I mean super glue is super glue? Right? No expiration date. If it was all that old and dried out it would never spurt out of the top. Okay even if it was old it shouldn’t stick – should it? Don’t I have the answer to that sticky question?

The darn directions on the mini size little itsy bitsy package of super glue are impossible to read – not even under a magnifying glass. So you can’t fault me there. How did I know the top needed to be screwed back on? Hello…. And I shouldn’t have squeezed that teeny-tiny little tube so hard. That was the prelude.

It happened so fast and my knee jerk reaction which was really my right hand just moved ever so quick and grabbed that paper towel. Not a good choice and I am aware of that now. I learn from my mistakes – oh boy do I ever - at least 50 percent of the time. I rarely produce the same foolish act twice. I like a multitude of disasters – keeps the home front hopping. Not that I should be hopping with my injured foot. I should be applauded for keeping off my foot that isn’t really injured but just healing. But it is soooo boring being a couch potato.

I decide to become a jewelry artist and create my masterpieces sitting down with the not hurt but healing foot propped high in the air. A difficult position to be in when you’re trying to use super glue a pair of pliers and holding little round slippery beads all while trying to reach over to the other side of the work bench to grab that root beer soda. I need to mention that the chair has casters that move fairly fast.

After the incident where the super glue gushed out like Mount Saint Helens into my willing left hand – of course I reached for the roll of paper towels. I didn’t want to spill any of the super glue on my nice wooden work bench. Paper towels were probably not the best choice to make – we need to make good choices boys and girls. Heard that line before. Let’s weigh the pros and cons here – fingers glued together or a glop of glue on the work bench. I’ll ponder that a bit.

The good thing is it was my left hand. That’s good right? I think so and I’m sticking to it – wait I already did that. So now I have three fingers on my left hand webbed together covered with a paper towel and it isn’t even Bounty. Not that it really matters what type of paper towels one has glued to their hands. They weren’t quilted.

I’m a big girl so there is no need for sissy girl tears and my right hand can still pound away on the keyboard and find a cure. I search the internet. AHAH. Nail polish remover. I run to the bathroom and rip apart the cabinet tossing towels and q-tips all over the floor. I have cotton balls – I’ll need them. Way -way - far in the back of the cabinet under a pair of foam shoe innersoles and a used ace bandage I see a bottle of nail polish remover. Lavender scented – how nice. There is exactly two teaspoons of lavender scented liquid left.

I open the top very careful because I will need every drop of this nasty smelling stuff. I pour it over my fingers and rub fast and furious. One finger has escaped. No more lavender scented nail polish remover. Back to the computer.

Vinegar will loosen the glue. Okay! I find a fresh bottle of red wine vinegar sitting ever so peaceful on the kitchen counter. It’s not granite but hey – I am satisfied with laminate. It’s very strong smelling red wine vinegar. I wonder how much it costs. Not that cost matters in this life emergency. Hubby will not be happy when he spots all his red wine vinegar has disappeared.

Rub a dub dub a half of bottle to go. Oh – the stench. I grab the nail brush and bear down hard. Is that morsels of my skin dropping into the sink drain? No – it must be the paper towel. Ah another finger removed from its neighbor. But they feel funny and sticky and slimy and sealed with something that is rough. Back to the computer.

Spray with WD 4 0 and rub and yet another strange odor to assault my nostrils clog my arteries and cause me to hallucinate. I’m about ready to gag and not on a spoon. I pick at pieces that may or may not be my epidermis and drop them into the garbage disposer. I scrub incessantly with the nail brush and about 50 percent of the super glue has been whisked away. Whisk is not the correct word but it has rhythm.

I lather my hands with soap the foaming pump kind that lives by the kitchen sink. The soap is mint green and it clashes with my kitchen walls but such is life. I’ve never been able to get the green foaming soap that matches my walls. Iffen (it could be a real word)I ever did then no one would see the light green spots on my walls behind the faucet.

The super glue has come undone along with about a quarter inch of my skin but skin is hardy and will regenerate and soon I will be as good as new. Not really new-new because I shop at Big Lots. My hands feel sort of like sandpaper or an old wooden dock along the water that gives free splinters to unsuspecting bare feet. Been there – done that.

Ode to the mop

I need a haircut....Desperately!!! It's hanging in my face. I can't even see to sweep the kitchen floor. Well, I know how to remedy that situation.

I go outside and the wind blows my lofty locks right across my face. I push them back with my hand but what if I were going someplace in a convertible with the top down? Then - I couldn't see where to turn. Since I don't own a convertible that will not be an issue.

I have no hair clips to pin back the unruly mass. I could slip on my visor but that gives me visor hair. I need this cut. It's driving me CRAZY.....

I wonder if duct tape works on hair. NOT. Okay I'm heading for the hedge clippers to do this baby in.

Someone call the hair police......

Souls 4 Soles

Alright the flu shot reaction is almost done. I'm over that. Get on with life and hit all the stumbling blocks.

I know it's wrong to laugh and make fun of people BUT sometimes I just have NO control. Take this morning for instance....Hubby has decided to wear some of his old shoes to work - and his old shoes are almost brand new. He had a pile of barely worn shoes locked away in his closet and this past weekend he dragged them out. Every day this week he has worn a different pair of shoes.

This morning he had on a pair of Bass Shoes that looked brand spanking new. Not a scratch on them buggers. And the looked nice on him. So - he walks to the front door and trips on something. I see from my spot on the couch and it looks like he trips over a pair of flip flops. We be bad because we both leave them all over the house and outside. Who knows why?

I stifle a little giggle cuz I know they ain't my flip flops he's tripped over. Then he trips again. Must be the second flip flop. He almost takes one down at the end zone. Stifle another giggle. Then he's all feet and shoes and these things that look like flip flops but they are not! they are the soles of his almost never worn shoes.

The soles of these shoes were glued and came right off. So here he is dancing a jig by the front door on the way to work in falling apart shoes. And there I sit laughing my behind off on the couch. No human was harmed during this incident - just needed to clarify that aspect. It did seem kind of funny. It might have been funnier if the soles waited till he was at work to remove themselves from the shoes.

Am I sorry for laughing at his predicament. Absolutely - well perhaps not - it was funny.

We will need to go shoe shopping this weekend.......I am rather disappointed in Bass shoes.

Headache from hell

I received my flu shot yesterday. OUCH!!! Only compromised (yet again) because my doctor said I need it because of my asthma. Do I really? I wonder.
Is it a conspiracy? Am I paranoid. Probably....

Today I feel like CRAP. Due to the flu shot? I wonder.
The left arm is a little tender but tolerable. It's the ferocious headache that I woke up with in the wee hours of the morning. What's that all about? I felt fine yesterday BEFORE the shot. Is it all in my head?

Moving on ... with life... trying to forget about the pounding in my head and trying ever so to think happy thoughts........I go outside and look up in the sky for the show that has been promised. The entire sky is a mass of clouds. I can see nuttin honey.

This is not the way to start a day. Feeling like CRAP and missing the once in a lifetime sky show. Think good thoughts - think good thoughts. Get some chocolate....

It's 5 O'clock Somewhere

I wish I was Jimmy Buffett...well maybe not. I wish I was his friend his best buddy. Can a girl be a guy's best buddy? Maybe we could hang out - chill - sing silly songs. Wait I can't sing. http://www.margaritaville.com

If we were buds then he could introduce me to one of his other buds - Carl Hiaasen. http://www.carlhiaasen.com/index.shtml

WOW. Then I could hang out with both of them. I found out recently that ole Jimmy is an author also. I will have to read his books. I mean if we will be buds we need a connection. And I don't normally do margaritas but I could.......

So why did my mind wander to the far fetched idea about being best buds with Jimmy and Carl...???? Hubby bought two DVD's one is ' HOOT' starring Jimmy Buffett - written by Carl Hiassen. The other DVD is HOLES can't make a connection to that movie and my social life. Wait - brain flash or perhaps brain dimmer. There are ant holes in my back yard. Now I see the connection

Can't find the moon

I can't find the moon. It's gone - lost in space. Maybe it fell into the black hole or some deep dark abyss. I saw it just the other night. Saw the twinkle in his eye and that little tell tale of a smirk frothing at his lip. Was that smirk something of what was to come? Did he know he would hide from me this morning?

I'm sitting outside guzzling my morning coffee - trying to get my engine revved up to start the day. The sky is beautiful loaded with stars and other planets - looks like no clouds to hide behind. But he's not there.... Stars are sparkling, planes are buzzing quietly through the skies - but NO moon.

I read somewhere that during the month of October some planet - the name of which has slipped my weary mind - was going to be very-very visible right beneath the moon. So now what? No moon around. How can I gaze at this planet? This other universe where somebody may be gazing back at me.

How rude of the moon to play this trick on me and hide. Is this intentional? Is this to confuse my mind more than it already is. I have been wandering around in the dark in my backyard - searching for his glow and smiling face. I have no idea what the neighbors are thinking. And why do they have no concerns over the missing moon? Have they no life?

I'll check one more time before the morning swims across the sky and slowly covers all the stars and planets from view. Perhaps tonight or tomorrow morning he will show his face and I can see that planet of which name I cannot remember but just have to see. I need patience or a telescope. What will the neighbors be thinking then?

Seeking 7 Moons

My imagination is tethered to a long loose leash. It runs wild and rampant against the forces of nature. It meanders places where normal aliens never travel. It reaches great heights and dips down into deep valleys and crevices. It writes love notes in puffs of white clouds and sings along with the wind. My imagination contains no boundaries or constraints and holds no strict rules or regulations.

Last night as I looked up at the milky white half moon my first thought was that it was a half eaten vanilla moon pie. I prefer the chocolate moon pies myself but to each his own.

I stand outside in the dark of the evening gazing with the intensity of a floor mat at the creamy moon resting high in the sky. The leash moved against the night breeze and gave me a little tug. I stared a little harder at the half circle in the sky surrounded by blinking stars or perhaps alien ships.

And there right before my eyes the creamy milk white half moon showed me his face. I saw his deep set eyes and the hint of a smile slip across his lips. The moon became alive with life and ignited my imagination into a wild fire burning furiously across the night sky.

The moon has a heart and a soul and most obviously a sense of humor. He looked like an animated metal moon one can buy and place upon the living room wall or the silly painted moon earrings I once purchased and so soon lost. Sometimes we see and feel what we need to see and feel. Imagination is a good thing.

Fairy Tales do come true

Life all by itself can be a rough road to traverse. Detours, unsavory conditions, stressers, financial woes, despair, road blocks, issues and let us not forget the family. So following the path of life without any stumbles can be at times difficult and traumatic. Such as what happened to me this very morning on my road in life: reality of living life jumped up and hit me smack in the face. Actually it didn't hit me in the face but the reaction snarled across my face.

Florida can be wonderful, quiet, hot, peaceful, relaxing and somewhat like traveling in a dangerous jungle. Take my backyard as an example - it's full of weeds - can't grow any grass here. The water restrictions puts a damper on growing lush green grass and then the heat burns it to a crispy long forgotten corn field. Not that we can grow corn in our backyard. We grow weeds pretty good and not the weeds you smoke. I think that cash crop does well in California. This is Florida - the land of the sand spurs.

Now if sand spurs was a cash crop or illegal - we would be right on the money!!! But NO - sand spurs are not profitable or fun. They are a pain in the tush or to be exact a pain in the privates. So this morning my world such as it is - crashed. Crashed by a sand spur. One deadly-nasty-ugly-hurtful-tiny little bugger that sets the world on fire. Not flames and fire but a stabbing fire that sears right through the skin directly to all of your tender zones. And these little buggers are smaller than a pea. Which reminds me of the fairy tale about the princess and the pea with of course the evil step mother or mother-in-law. Fairy tales kind of lump togeter all motherly females as evil characters. What's that all about?

Now, everything is clearer since I have brought back memories of the fairy tale - The Princess and the Pea. She couldn't sleep due to ONE pea placed under a gazillion mattresses which really means she is a true princess because she can still feel the pain of the pea beneath all those mattresses. Her true identity resolved she can now marry the Prince possibly live happily ever after with that witch of a mother-in-law.

I know I am not even close to princess material so that is why I am confused that one little-tiny-teeny sand spur could cause me so much pain and trauma. And how did that little bitty bugger get stuck in my undies? Try walking around with a sand spur in your silkies. I wonder if some evil character put this deadly prickly devise in my unmentionables? Perhaps I really am a Princess......but I will never kiss a frog.

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Go Away

I really don't care for telemarketers. I understand everyone needs to survive and make a living but leave me alone. With the Do Not Call list I believe it has impacted those telemarketer jobs. So they have tried a new tactic. Knocking on your door,

Personally I do not feel secure opening my door to total strangers especially when I am home alone. Too much crap goes on in the outside world. When someone rings my bell I look out the kitchen window to see if I know who it is. If I don't too bad I do not answer my door. Unfortunately if I'm in the front part of the house I need to go to the door and look out the window next to the door.

This morning that happened - I went to the door looked out and a young kid was standing at my door talking on his cell phone with a flyer in his hand. First - how dare you invade my home space talking on your cell phone. If you are selling something all the attention should be on the prospective customer. Second - where is your vehicle and why are you walking door to door?

Solicitor sees me and holds up his flyer while still chatting on the cell phone and says something about tree service. I politely say - "No thanks, I don't need anything." A few minutes later I look out side and the turd has dropped his flyer by my front door. RUDE. Something is wrong here and I don't think it's me.

So to get myself out of my annoying, negative bad mood I look at a flower photo I took this weekend and think - HAPPY THOUGHTS!!!!!

Does this fur make my butt look fat?

Are cats as really vain as they appear to be???? I mean they're always sitting around preening themselves - licking their long sharp nails. Sitting right there in your favorite seat as if they were in charge of the throne and certainly acting like they are the critter in charge.

And then that LOOK they toss your way especially if you try to get them to move from their throne. The prissy way they eat their food or not eat their food. They stick that little nose right up in the air along with that bushy tail and saunter away like one would dismiss a fast food haunt.

After the kitty bearing years or hopefully way before that happens they just let themselves go. The belly appears looming like saddlebags from a rodeo show. It hangs low to the ground and flaps back and forth as they walk from one sunny spot to the next. They sprawl on their back four legs split apart and that belly flab just sitting there like a mass of lard. At this point in time they can't do as much preening due to the enormous mound of belly flubber.

And then the whine when they think they need something. And that could be just a back rub or a head scratch but they want it now. If action is not taken according to their time schedule a slap as you walk by reminds you of their wants. Do not be even two minutes late at feeding time because the wrath is unbearable.

But still they give anyone and everyone that LOOK like - 'Look at me I'm so special and sooo pretty - now get out of my way and get me some canned cat food.'

Coffee Break

So I'm hobbling around on this bum foot feeling a little like a drunk giraffe on an ice rink. The stitches have been removed it still tingles and the toes definitely have not gone back to work yet. They kind of sit there all crumpled up and useless.
Every morning my favorite thing to start the day with is sit outside on the lanai, sip coffee, stare at the few remaining stars and watch the planes coming and going. It's a quiet time before the noise of the day begins. It's still dark when I start my journey to the outside world to relax and enjoy the roasted brew.

I'm pretty good at traversing the darkened lanai and shuffling over to my favorite chair. This morning as I exit I notice a plane - lights flashing - getting ready to land and all of the passengers antsy to embark. I am captivated by this sight. I should concentrate on my own world and not get dreamy eyed about some far off adventure.

Still, my eyes are stuck like gorilla glue on the descending aircraft. I shuffle by the pool - eyes still resting on the flashing lights up in the sky. BAM, my fumbling feet stumble. It's the darn cat. Doesn't she know my movements are slow and unsteady? What is she doing in my path?

There is nothing to grab a hold of to break my fall - so down I go. Okay, if I hit my head on the cement - get a concussion - and fall into the pool - I will surely die. I won't be able to scream because I'll be unconscious. There goes my travel plans. Since I can't scream no one will hear my futile cries. It's 5 AM no one but me and the cat are awake.

I flail about on my downward spiral trying to stay away from the pool and the cement edge that is calling my name. I slip on the pool skimmer that someone always leaves by the edge of the pool. It throws my balance backwards toward the glass topped table. I start thinking hard and fast if it's the kind that doesn't break in pointy sharp pieces and could pierce my juggler veins. It was on sale - pretty cheap. I can envision the sharp shards of glass piercing my body.

My arm hits the corner of the table and my body takes another turn and hits the wicker chair. And like magic I am plopped down unscathed right in the chair still holding my coffee cup. The coffee is splattered all over the floor but the cup is safe and sound. It's truly a good thing as it is my favorite coffee cup.

People of Walmart Alert

Got the stitches removed today....OUCH!!!! Hurt like hill!!!!

The toes still don't move and the ankle moves about a hair's width but it feels good to get that clunky boot off. Movement will return - eventually. I'm hoping the tumor and the pain never return.

On the way to the doctor's office I stopped at the post office. When I go to Walmart I know what to expect. People - odd people to be more precise - that must include me because I do frequent Wally World on occasion. One gets used to the oddballs cruising Walmart by their state of dress or at times undress.

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/?page_id=9798
The first photo is quite offensive but this is what they wear.

Slippers, pajamas, bathing suits, shoeless, tank top so short and tight that the huge muffin top flopping over the side looks like a dead beluga whale. Not that I have ever seen a dead beluga whale but I'm sure that's what it would resemble.

Then we have the pants hanging desperately around the knees with the sometimes boxers showing and sometimes NOT. That's when one gets a view of the plumbers pod. The hairy butt crack is the size of the Grand Canyon. A sight to behold.

So I was a little taken aback this morning at the post office when I see this man with his shirt and shorts on inside out with the tags hanging down. He didn't look old and senile. He looked like a person that could dress himself right side out. Perhaps it's a new fashion statement or maybe the inside was too dirty to wear and he turned it inside out. It was a Walmart flashback.

1-2 buckle that shoe

Tomorrow it's off to the foot doctor for the second week check-up. The pain has eased up still can't put any weight on the foot which makes it really difficult. Those midnight trips to the bathroom take a long time. It's dark and don't want to turn on the light and wake hubby up so I search the floor for the ten pound boot that needs to go on my foot every time I walk. Then in the dark I struggle to put the darn thing on - all this just to tinkle. GGGRRRR.

So the foot hasn't been washed in two weeks - phew!!! Strict instructions -Do not get it wet. I have followed the doctor's orders. It sure ain't my fault if I have a smelly foot when he checks it over and hopefully takes out all those stitches that are itching like CRAZY.

This lifestyle of keeping off the foot and keeping that foot up in the air is frustrating. How many more weeks of this? Grin and bear it. Now my ankle hurts from dragging around in this weighted boot. And my right knee is being cranky. What's next an ankle and knee replacement?
Stop whining and focus on the positive side of life. I have Pepsi in the fridge.

Big Butter Bust

Sometimes I feel like a klutz - probably because I am. I can spill a glass of red whine on a white tablecloth faster than a gecko can blink. I'm not sure gecko's blink but that's my analogy. I like analogies - they make sense to me. A bull in a china shop just pictures in my mind me in a place that sells expensive antiques and I can't walk straight.

On Saturday on our cross country jaunt - really cross state I like the sound of cross country - it sounds like a real adventure. And I do love adventures. If only I could find a job that was all adventure and get paid for it. My life is an adventure it just doesn't pay a whole lot of money. Then what is money? The green stuff to help with survival and take many-many adventures. Since I haven't won the lottery or have an abundance of that green stuff and at the moment I am not even working so the green stuff is pretty much non-existence I have to weave adventures in my mind. The mind is a terrible thing to waste. So I am thankful for the adventure to Flagler Beach this past weekend.

I was amazed that I walked around the gallery GOLA (gallery of local artist) and did not drop, break or spill anything. I did knock over the stuffed alligator but I put him back on the shelf real quick.

After a quick tour of the GOLA Gallery (www.galleryoflocalart.com) and a walk through the farmers market we headed off to eat some lunch. The Blue was highly recommended so we took the bait. It was a lovely old place and we chose to sit out on the porch with a front row seat of the Atlantic Ocean. The place had ambiance and was classy but not classy. How would I use an analogy to describe that? Like wearing flip flops to the Oscars and not feeling out of place.

I ordered their 'best salad' described as greens topped with grilled scallops, caramelized pecans and goat cheese. I love goat cheese. When my luscious lunch was served I tried to be dignified with manners and placed the white linen napkin on my lap and then I stared at the forks. Which one is the salad fork? I chose fork number two because they both looked the same. The salad was to die for (analogy) and I only dropped several pieces of greens down the front of my shirt.

At times my mind wanders and I looked with lust after the triangle shaped yellowy cheese plopped right next to my warm buttery bun. AAAHHH the goat cheese. I slice off a big chunk and using my other fork place the soft mass inside my salivating mouth and begin to chew. It was soft and tasted strange for a piece of cheese. It was tooooo soft. OMG! It's not cheese - it's butter. I have a mouthful of butter. OMG!

What to do in this classy and at the same time not classy establishment. The restroom is at the back of the porch and I have on this clunky boot on my post surgery foot and can't move hardly fast at all. And then there are the two gentlemen sitting right next to us in their fancy clothes and not wanting to feel like a country bumpkin. Gramma in her Sunday best sitting to the left with her prim and proper family having some kind of - I haven't seen you all in ages party. And me sitting in the middle of it all with a hunk of butter in my mouth.

Could I discreetly hang over the side of the banister and spit out the lump of lard? I could dump the goo in my napkin but then what would catch the drops of raspberry vinaigrette dressing? I can't do a mouth swipe like what they teach you in CPR and remove the tainted goop. OMG! I swallow the sweet creamy butter and drink an entire glass of cold water - not a good choice. The ice cold water congeals the buttery mass and clogs in my throat. I start to gag. My mind wanders to the movie - Soylent Green. I'm thinking it's a darn good thing I'm no longer a Vegan.

The secret life of trees

Yesterday - I got up - got dressed and drove from one side of the state to the other - from the Gulf of Mexico to the Atlantic Ocean. Actually I didn't drive - hubby did. I sat with my still hurting/healing foot propped up on the dashboard. We left the new guy Russ home to fend for himself. He had the kitty to keep him company but not too sure how that scenario went off. The house was still intact when we returned and kitty had all of her fur.

We went to Flagler Beach a very old Florida town with old world Florida charm. The ocean was not lined with condos and high rises and the buildings were painted lively colors and very unique. The purpose for our cross state journey was to see a showing put on by a never met photographer/artist. Robert Douglas Dalles.

http://thedallesgroup.com/tdg/HOME.html

The GOLA gallery (Gallery of local art) www.galleryoflocalart.com - almost hidden off the street - well we had a difficult time finding the building but then sometimes we can't find the remote for the T.V. The gallery was filled with artistic delight including the amazing photographs of one Robert Douglas Dalles. We purchased his book and he signed it - just for us.

'The Secret Life Of Trees' is a collection of images that reach inside of you and pierce your soul. It's like they are alive - breathing and watching your reactions and then pulling you into their world. Almost like a Twilight Zone movie. I had this overwhelming feeling I could walk right into one of his photo's and have a life. The 3 D quality of the images had a tantalizing effect. I wanted to reach out and touch but I didn't because signs in the gallery said to 'please not touch the artist work'. Okay I was assuming they didn't have any cameras hooked up so I touched a few including the edges of the photographs. I hope my mug shot doesn't end up on the 'Cops' series.

I was impressed and in awe of these life like images and the artist himself. I also met his lovely wife/model, Ann Marie. This creative artist made his model/wife breathe life into a still photo. How amazing is that.

Then we ate a luscious lunch at the 'Blue' right on the edge of the ocean. A wonderful day. My mind wanders back to the image of two tall palm tress and I swear they were moving and I just wanted to step between those two trees into the secret life of trees.