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.

Stars in the sky

I'm sitting outside in the wee hours of this beautiful Saturday morning - still dark and quiet as if the world has yet to begin. I hear the water sprinklers and the cat on the deck barfing but no other sounds to paint the early morning.

I look up at the sky with the crescent shaped moon surrounded by stars and planets and an occasional plane sailing silently through the sky to places unknown. I always wonder where they are going and wishing it was me. I used to wish on the first star I saw at night but then I grew up. Actually sometimes I still make wishes on that first evening star. But this morning the sky is filled with stars and it's not a time for wishing but enjoying the moment.

Looking south right over the tops of the palm trees I see a star or perhaps a planet as it is sooo big. It's flashing. At first I think it's a plane but it doesn't move it just flashes. I rub the early morning sleepiness from my eyes but still it flashes. Far off to my left I see another flash but it moves so it must be a plane? Is it? I wonder.

My mind wanders and I think about the new planet that the news says it right for human habitation. I wonder if this flashing planet or star is advertising for people to come and visit? Or is it an alien ship spying on what we do in the dark hours of the new day. I drink my coffee laced with hazelnut cream and stare at the flashing orb and try not to be hypnotized.

Russ's roost

Russ received a new bed today. It's right on his favorite couch spot. His friend the schnauzer is right next to his bed along with the 'brown shorts'. What are the brown shorts? They belong to hubby and I surmise that they haven't been washed in a few days. They are hubby's working outdoor shorts and in the Florida heat it doesn't take long for perspiration to take hold of any and all clothes.

Russ has a bit of separation anxiety and doesn't like to be left alone even in his brand new soft plushy bed. We are working diligently on this issue. I'm not quite sure that Russ's previous life held a lot of love and responsibility. He is very shy and skittish. He appears to have been treated unfairly at times most likely by humans.

According to Cesar Milan dogs live in the 'here and now' so with Russ we are trying to make his 'now' memorable so he can forget the past. Coming from a shelter with little information about this sweet dog makes one step back and move slowly with his insecurities. He needs to trust us.

Back to the most likely stinky brown shorts. They have hubby's aroma which we are hoping will give Russ a little comfort and feel that his new owner is close by. Baby steps with this little sweetie. So it is that we begin our new adventure and make happy memories for this little pooch.