Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Happy Happy Happy

In today’s pernicious economy we need to apply the 3 ‘P’s to all our endeavors. Persistence, persuasion and pessimism. Persistence means to keep paddling that boat even though it has a leak. Persuasion can be used to have others help you plug that leak. Pessimism is a reminder that we need to be positive and not let that boat sink. The world is polychromatic and we choose the vast array of colors and have them work effectively within a team. Those with a predisposition to creativity have a high probability to succeed.

My creativity has been stymied of late due to the foot surgery. Today, hopefully the sutures will be removed - be more positive- yes, today the sutures WILL be removed and I can walk once again. I can feel the creativity bubbling up inside. Wait that could be the asthma flaring up again. I need to paddle my boat faster to stay afloat not that I hear banjo music playing.

My happiness level is at an all time high. Well, maybe halfway to high. I still need to baby the foot but I can go in the pool again. My three happy thoughts are squirming inside my brain.

1. I am happy I see my podiatrist today - and he is such a cutie....
2. I am happy hubby built a great arch for our jasmine to grow on - he is such a cutie....
3. I am happy that I am happy....

Happiness is contagious - pass it on.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Dental dilemnas

You just know it's going to be a bad day when - suddenly - you realize that you have put on your underwear inside out and you have a dentist appointment. This is never-never a good sign. Especially bad when you hate the dentist more so than having your toenails ripped off during a wedding reception.

I would rather hang upside down over an alligator pit than go to the dentist. Early life trauma must have scarred me for life. Either with the dentist or inside out underwear - not quite sure.

So the reality of the situation hits you smack in the face when you realize the underwear mistake. Is your mind befuddled due to the dentist appointment that is only for a cleaning but still it's in the dentist office with drills and things that go bump and then there are all those stupid questions he asks you when the drill bit is drilling inside your mouth.

Do that teach that technique in dental school? Hello - Mr. Dentist but do you really expect me to give an audible answer? I must say my dentist knows about my phobia and is easy on me. If he was aware of the way I dress myself perhaps he would not be so congenial.

I have redressed myself but still have that nauseous feeling in the back of my throat that may or may not exit in the dental chair. Now that I am placing my fears and phobias in print I feel worser! Worser is much more worse than worse. It's the worsest! Well, actually going to the dentist is worsefull and to think it is just a cleaning. At least my panties are not in a knot just my intestines.

Friend or Foe

Interspecies relationships - Is it a good thing? I suppose it depends on the situation and the circumstances.

This past May I received two box turtles. They were ripped from a home that they had known and loved forever and placed with me - this wack person who doesn't know a whole lot about box turtles. The school program they were associated with was closing and Thing 1 and Thing 2 needed a new home and that's how they came to be a part of my menagerie.

They seemed very shy and timid and hung out beneath the bird of paradise bush. Interaction with people was at a minimun. They were adjusting to the new environment. I accepted them for what they were - hermits.

While we were on vacation a very concerned neighbor found a turtle wandering around the cul-de-sac and assumed it belonged to me. He was promptly placed in my turtle pond. I was in for a bit of a shock when I returned home and found this creature living in my pond. As far as I can tell he may be a Mississippi Mud turtle?

He was not happy living in the turtle ponds with my 6 water turtles. He escaped into the box turtle habitat and became very friendly with Thing 1 and Thing 2. All of a sudden the box turtles came out of hiding and have been showing their faces. Strange and bizarre. I am glad they are enjoying their new home and getting to know us. I'm not sure if they like the intrusion of this new turtle and are trying to chase him away or they really like the guy? They are active and I imagine that is a good thing.

I think the Mud turtle is a little confused and taking unfair advantage of the box turtles and the climbing over them is a sign of power or a sign that he needs a mate of his own kind. I'm not sure what to do with this new guys and the boxies are not talking.

Monday, July 26, 2010

Ask How Dot Com

Has the thought ever skittered across the back recesses of you mind concerning - 'where do pigeons sleep at night'? Probably not!

Well, it is one of life's greatest mysteries to me. I mean in a big city it is obvious that they live, eat and sleep on the ledges of skyscrapers. But what about in very small cities or towns without tall buildings? They don't roost in trees and most of the buildings are less than two stories with no ledges.

Do they have a ron-de-vue meeting place? Do they have an empty building they are drawn to? Where oh where do they go? This is on my mind and I need answers.

During the day they are in your face but when darkness falls they fall off the face of the earth. And what about baby pigeons? Have you ever seen a baby pigeon or a pigeon nest? I haven't. I guess it will be one of those mysteries in my life that go unanswered.

I found this site, it helps a little.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Swim at your own risk

Sometimes my dreams involve themes. My theme last night was water. Water is one of my favorite elements. It's part of my soul. I think in my past life I must have been a fish or perhaps a piece of a coral reef - like a brain coral.

These past two weeks have been totally without water joy. Due to the stitches on the sole of my foot I am water deprived. No pool, no foot in the tub or puddle jumping. This rule has weighed heavily on me especially due to the fact that this has been the hottest summer in years and I cannot go in the pool.

So my dreams of water surely must have a connection to my recent issue of lack of water. The first dream was me and hubby swimming down a river that was tea colored similar to the St. John's River that flows upstream to the north. An oddity of sorts but then this is Florida. And in Florida almost every fresh body of water including mud puddles has at least one alligator as resident troll.

So it would not be like me to swim in not so crystal clear water in Florida. There are also water moccasins that travel the waterways. So here we are swimming in this water after dark and we come to a tunnel. This summer we drove over the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel - a correlation here? We are swimming in this tunnel and I am carrying some contraption that cannot get wet. (My foot?) We are worried that a car might come through and run us over. There is water in this tunnel. Another correlation - watched the history channel last night and they highlighted the aqua car. It was a dark and scary tunnel sort of like the drama in my life.

The next dream back in that fresh Florida water again but this time with a group of kindergarten sweeties. I had about 20 of them in this very long kayak. The white plastic seats kept coming unsnapped. And of course the little darlings would not sit in line order or leave the plastic seats snapped. They jumped out of the kayak and would not follow instruction. That's kindergarten kids for ya. One little girl could not speak clearly. I tried my best to control the situation but had no success.

I turned around and the little girl who could not communicate turned into a doll and was at the bottom of the water. I reached down and pulled her out gave her a couple of rescue breaths and she was fine.

I could interpret these wack dreams in many ways. They all seem to correspond to my life and the drama clouds. Last night we had a horrific thunder, lightning and rain storm. I fell asleep to the raindrops pounding the roof. I try to analyze my dreams and relate them to the current issues in my drama filled life. Sometimes I am at a loss over the meanings or implications of my nightly fantasies. I'd consult a dream doctor but the insurance doesn't cover them.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Old Goats Wife

I've been hobbling around for a week and a half with this foolish looking boot on my surgically impaired foot. It's big, clunky and quite noticeable. The fact that I walk like a drunken duck also plays into the scenario of - look at that poor woman.

The really odd and strange thing about this contraption on my left foot is the constant stream of comments. And the comments are so similar it's down right creepy. These are comments from total strangers, people you pass in the grocery store aisle, people holding open the door for you at the thrift store, the doctors receptionist and people in the waiting room of the dentists office.

The most frequent comment is - "You must have kicked him really hard." "What made you kick him?" "Did he deserve that kick?"

Is this a comment people would make to a man who is with a woman? "Did you kick her?" Is this comment a socially acceptable comment? Why does it seem okay to make a comment placing the blame on hubby? Sure, it seems funny but do they really think that? Is it just a conversation comment? How about - "Hello." And yes, I do think it's a bit funny when the comment is made. I laugh. Should I be laughing?

What are these people thinking about me? Do they really think I would kick my mate? Sometimes I feel like it. So, are they reading my mind? Perhaps I should wear my shirt in public that says - 'Old Goat's Wife.'

Friday, July 23, 2010


Eons ago we owned a sailboat. It was a small sailboat only room for two fools. And one of them was me. I love water and I like boats only too late did I find out I don't like sailboats. A tiny sailboat on a big-big lake to be exact. Huge freighters were passing by and this was not in a no-wake zone. I was terrified. I felt like an ant crossing a six lane highway. What were my chances?

So, the sailboat and me drifted apart. She eventually ended up in the garage and was sadly (not so) forgotten. One day spring clean up came along and she was dragged out to the garage sale. Apparently there are not too many sailboat lovers that frequent garage sales for sailboats. Back to the garage she went.

More time passed and then it was really time for her to go. She went back to a garage sale and was purchased for pennies on the pound. She was a lightweight.

This past summer part of her emerged again. Who would have known. Somehow my brother had one of her sails and it was my job to transport the sail in an over packed small car halfway across the country to deliver to another brother. So, her sail went for a summer ride in the back of an overloaded car.

"It won't fit my sailboat. I don't want it," said brother number two. She is packed back into the overstuffed car and travels many more miles through many more states. It was a perfectly good sail I just couldn't throw it away. She went home to Florida with us in that overstuffed small car.

I had this bright idea to string the sail over the turtle ponds to give my guys a little shade from the hot Florida sun. So now I sit outside and listen to the sail flap in the breeze and pretend I'm on some ocean voyage in a truly wonderful and enormous sailboat - sailing around the world. I sip my coffee prop my feet up and watch the sail dance to the music of the wind. She is in wonderful shape after all these years. My thoughts drift back to the boat and wonder whose garage she is sitting in right now.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Tiny Tank

Sadness is like a rogue wave. It comes unexpected out of nowhere and crashes into the calm and predictability of life. It knocks you down and then just as quickly it comes back for more and knocks you down again. One has to be a strong swimmer and get out of the rip tide. Sometimes weakness springs into action and deters our goals.

We are dragged out to the sea of unknown and unwanted. The horizon fades as fast as an ice cream cone in the heat of the summer. We are lost and disoriented surrounded by angry whitecaps. The white frothy molecules beat us relentlessly. Now is the time to sink or swim.

As always the rogue wave disappears and rolls out back to sea. The beach is quiet and serene once again as if nothing has happened to disturb the dunes or sea life. No remnants remain of the wave that tipped life upside down and swirled back out to sea. Nothing visible. Beneath the white sand and they swaying beach grass is a tear in the lining of emotions and dreams.

Eventually the gap seals itself and life resumes as before. The tide rolls in and crashes gently against the shoreline. The sun rises, the day begins the sun sets and the day ends. A little turtle named Tank has drifted off to that place beyond the dunes where time stands still but the clock still ticks.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Crimson Stain

Drama surrounds me like a cloud of mosquitos on a camping trip without any bug repellent. I’ve never been inspired to be a drama queen but the daily drama follows me as if it were my permanent shadow or an extra appendage. Speaking of extra appendages my daughter-in-laws step father was born with extra digits on his hands. He has twelve fingers to my ten. I bet he was good at math with two extra fingers to count with. He even produced off spring with extra appendages.

My hubby of many moons describes drama as clouds drifting in and out of one’s life. There are the big, dark threatening clouds that cause enough havoc to start a major war between the north and south. The soft billowy white puffs of cotton that completely cover the sun and turns you into to a lost in space cadet. It’s hard to find the life path when the sun has disappeared to a safe house. Following the road less traveled without any ruts is a lifelong journey. I have documented my relentless journey.

I think I may be obsessive compulsive. Just a touch. My name is Delta. My friends and family refer to me as Delta Dawn after that song. I’m not totally convinced this is a good nickname. If you listen closely to the lyrics old Delta’s cogs are not turning properly. There’s a lot of hesitation going on in the mechanical department. So what are my friends and family implying? My cogs are stuck? Well, that’s family for ya. So if my cogs are gunked up it is most likely due to hereditary issues. No fault of my own. Perhaps, they too have noticed my OCD.

When I hear a song that catches my heart I play that song over and over and over again. I do Google searches to seek out all the aspiring musicians that have sung the song and all the goofs who have placed a video on You tube. This episode can go on for weeks then, I break down and purchase the CD listen to it once or twice and then file it away.

Sometimes I find an author that I adore and read all of their books. I stay up till the wee hours in the morning with my reading marathon. I don’t eat, sleep or walk the dog. I read. I read until my eyes cross and then pull out the magnifying glass to help me unblur the words.

Every couple of months I buy these awesome sugar cookies from the bakery and eat them non-stop. One day I will buy the chocolate frosted and the next day I will buy the ones with pink frosting and sprinkles. I devour them like a starving artist. After a few days of that I can’t even look at cookies.

My spinach saga was a sight to behold. Six solid months of my life I ate spinach for lunch. Green goes in and green comes out. I used to feel comforted by the color of green but now it is vomit provoking. My kitchen was a lovely shade of green which after the spinach saga the color nauseated me so I painted it pink. Pepto Bismo pink to be exact and it sure wakes one up in the morning.

So, I can see my obsessive compulsiveness and most likely others see my affliction. I think I do this bizarre behavior to eliminate my stress. My life is saturated with stress and all those clouds of drama lurking over my head. Mostly it’s the dark and furious clouds that add the drama of my life.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Tar Ball Tours

I went whale watching while in Cape Cod this summer. It was awesome. Then, my minds starts calculating hundreds of people times $40.00. That looks like retirement money.

Lots and lots of whales putting on a show for the tourists. We saw no whale fishermen. And if I were a member of Greenpeace and saw the whale fisherman I could have thrown my body in their nets to save a whale. Then, it surely would have been an interactive tour. So this bizarre thought pops into my pea brain about tours in Florida.

So, you may ask? what does Florida (the gulf side) have to offer in the way of interactive tours? The Florida tour could be called 'The Tar Ball tour'. I could take tourists out in search of oil debris. The tourists would have a special net and scoop that oil right out of the Gulf of Mexico. We would be saving our earth, feeling good about our humanitarian work and making me rich.

First, I would need a boat - a big boat to carry all those people out to oil country because it has not hit my Florida beaches yet. And a boat driver, and insurance, and a dock and money for advertising and all those special nets to pick up the oil. $40.00 bucks a pop and the tourists doing most of the work. I see green in my future plus all the oil would be removed from the Gulf of Mexico, all marine life and vegetation would be saved along with tourism in several states and I would be a hero.

Sounds like a great idea to me. I wonder why BP doesn't start something like this?

Monday, July 19, 2010

Reality Bites

Bristol Palin and Levi Johnson are trying to get a reality television program. HHHMMM. Who cares? It seems like everyone except for me is getting a reality t.v. program, making mega bucks and riding off into the sunset with their saddle bags full of money. What about me? Whahhhh. I mean really - will people turn on the television and watch these two? What can be so interesting about their life? A couple of snot nosed kids and both have wacko mothers.

Yes, there may be a little drama in their public life but that's already in all the magazines. If we want to know what smut is going on just go to the grocery store and read the tabloid headlines as you waiting for the line to move.

Now that would be a good reality television program - the crap that goes on in a grocery store. Lots of material there. And then there is my life - overflowing with drama and suspense. Why doesn't Hollywood approach me?

But would I want a camera in my face when I roll out of bed in the morning? NO! Or filming me while taking a bath with a cast on my foot hanging over the side of the tub trying not to get it wet. They could get some good clips when my klutziness kicks in. there was the time I ran face first into the sliding glass doors. They could have animated the stars that I saw. I have never sent any of my children up in the air in a homemade hot air balloon - but it's worth a try. Aliens do come down to visit me occasionally.

Sunday, July 18, 2010


I'm sitting in the lanai with the foot up - doctor's orders - just vegging and I see a movement out of the corner of my eye. A flash of color moved really fast behind the potted peace Lillie's. A million and a half anoles scurry around inside the lanai. I hear they eat bugs so I am happy they have decided to live in my lanai. And the babies are so cute. The cat loves to catch them and terrorize them.

All of a sudden right next to potted peace Lilly number two out pops the head of a snake. A harmless black snake but still a snake. I am positively terrified of snakes. A first class snake phobic. I'm paralyzed with fear and can't move due to the bum foot. The foolish boot I have to wear on my foot weighs about ten pounds and would slow down my exit if I tried to move. I suppose I could give the snake a quick wack in the head with the boot and kill him instantly.

He's a black snake - harmless but still frightening to me. I make eye contact with him and he makes eye contact with me. For a second or so our eyes are locked and our bodies are immobile. Then, the spell is broken and he slithers away, Fast. I think he was more afraid of me than I was of him.

So, now I'm feeling spooked sitting out here with my foot up thinking about snakes. I keep searching the floor for any more movement but he doesn't return. My nerves are frazzled and my vulnerability is exposed. I just don't like snakes.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Sea Glass Imposter

Working on my tumbled glass with visions of it really being sea glass. I can dream and spin my wild imagination. It's lots of fun smashing those glass bottles. As the hammer comes down I think unkind thoughts!

The neighbors look at me a little funny smashing bottles in the side yard. They ask no questions. Today I had to smash a few inside the garage. Still hobbling around not able to walk much.

The pain has eased somewhat. GRRRR, hate being incapacitated. Two weeks and the stitches come out.

Working on my FAUX beach glass jewelry. Now gotta find an outlet to sell my works of art.

Friday, July 16, 2010

My tolerance level for pain is zip minus 10.6. I whine when I get a sliver in my thumb. Me and pain are not a harmonious match.

So, why did I opt for my 'wham bam thank you mam' bottom of the foot surgery in the doctor's office? Money - the root of all evil. Cheaper to have awake surgery in the office than put me out into blissland at the surgery center. Insurance and co-pays do not calculate in my budget.

How sad is that scenario that one has to choose the cheapest and not always pleasant method due to finances. I am thankful that I have insurance! I know many that have no health insurance but this goes back to my level of pain tolerance or lack there of.

Imagine a red hot poker coming at ya and searing right through down to your soul. That's how that dammmmm needle felt when doc jammed it into the sole of my hurting foot. The only good thing about the entire episode is my doctor. He is such a cutie. Although he said, "You'll only feel a pinch." His idea of a PINCH has no comparison to my idea of a pinch. Miles apart on that one.

Pain medication and my body are not compatible. I'd rather have my toenails ripped off than deal with the effects of pain medication on my body. I am such a brave soul that I opted for over the counter pain relief. Well, that works out like paddling a canoe down the rapids with a butter knife.

So, here I sit waiting for the healing to begin and the pain to take a permanent vacation, gritting my teeth and feeling 'woe is me.' I dislike whiners. This to shall pass but dang it hurts like %^&*^^####.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Turtle Tracks

I was sitting by the turtle pond just talking to them telling them I missed them. And all of a sudden I see this shell that is lighter in color than is normal. OMG, I think one of the land turtles has fallen in the pond and can't get up. Land turtles are not great swimmers and not smart enough to get themselves out of a precarious situation like a huge pond.

I go into panic mode just knowing my sweet little land turtle will drown. I try to scoop him out but he has grown to a tremendous size. That is odd. He was half that size when I left three weeks ago. Must have been all those worms. He's too big for the net so I call in the cavalry.

Hubby climbs in the pond and searches for the almost drowned land turtle. He does this for me with a heart of gold and true willingness. My hysteria had nothing to do with his pond search. He is such a good man to always come to my rescue. How could I survive without him? Love you snookums!

So he grabs the turtle after several failed attempts and removes the almost drowning land turtle from the pond. Strange - very strange he is not my presumed drowning land turtle. He is a water turtle - but not one of my water turtles. How did he get inside the fence and in the pond? It's an impossibility. A feat only a magician could accomplish. Turtles aren't all that intelligent. I still love them despite that fact.

A mystery of giant proportions. How did this turtle scale a fence and find my turtle pond. Is there a buzz out there in the turtle community about this great place to live? Was it the call of the wild? Is this turtle a closet accrobatist? One escapes out of the pond to the treacherous outside world and another smuggles himself in the pond.

I don't know what the problem is? I give them a wonderful place to live with plenty of food and attention. They have two huge ponds and a very large basking area surrounded by sand. Occasionally they are fed tadpoles, krill and minnows. What more could a turtle ask for? Cooter the biggest of the lot escaped his enclosure while I was on vacation.

I received a call from the neighbor who was caring for them and he said he found the 'big one' walking down the pathway to the backyard. Cooter was just taking a stroll. So Tony picked her up and placed her back in the pond where she belongs. They yard is fenced so she couldn't get out into the dangerous outside world.

Then, the episode circulated around the neighborhood. Turtle escape at the Braun's.

Larry, who is the unofficial mayor of the cul de sac calls Tony and says he has one of my turtles. Tony goes down retrieves the runaway turtle and returns it to the pond. Tony never gave the idea one thought that the house is surrounded by a fence and the turtles can't get out.

This is not my turtle. I have no idea where he came from. He must have heard the word on the street. Now I don't have a clue as what to do with this newcomer? My backyard has become a turtle rescue haven.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Vacations to go

Vacations are wonderful - sometimes when they are over. Too much sitting in the car - way too much fast food and that sweet tea. A quart of ice tea on intake and the output is about two gallons. Interstate I-95 in Georgia has one rest area. Yep - ONE! Georgia does havoc on my bladder. The Pennsylvania turnpike has one 'Service Area' in a hundred mile span. Bladder explosion. The Mass. turnpike closes some of there 'Welcome Centers' on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Hello - it's summer on Cape Cod and no I do not like those porta-potties. They haven't been serviced in about 6 months. EEEWWWWWW. The ferry across Currituck sound has a one staller and a gazillion people on board. The whale watching boat had three spaces and a mega gazillion people searching for whales and drinking lots of ice tea.

I won't even discuss the episode on the Pennsylvania turnpike. It's something I truly want to forget and move forward with my life. Hubby is taking great pride in retelling the 'incident' as he calls it. I'll give him an incident right on his backside with my foot.

So let's just say I was facility challenged during my road trip. But hey - I did get to see whales and osprey. And then that road rage with a truck and his message plastered across the back window that said - 'HEY BOY'. That says it all. Oh and 'Marine Boy' you with the red Tundra truck - you suck. We ain't in Kansas anymore - move over and get out of the way. Yes, other cars can pass you.
Road rage is a scary thing and there is a lot of it out there.

You the jerk that pulled right in front of us doing 80 with no turn signal or look in the rear view mirror - yes, that was a horn honk and you deserved it for being a jerk and take that finger of yours the one you flipped at us and put it someplace where the sun don't shine - like up your nose. You get the stupid award and bad driver of the year award.

It feels soooo good to be home - sleeping on my own comfy bed (no more couches) swimming in my own pool and having a bathroom at my disposal. And no more highways that last an eternity with no facilities and no more rude and obnoxious drivers. Well the drivers will be there.