I've always been told that what you are doing on New Year's Eve will tell what you will be doing the in the new year.
Here's what's happened so far today, December 31, 2010.
I got my morning walk in today. All of it. With the freezing weather we've been having my daily routine had been severely curtailed.
Richard washed the sheets and made the bed.
Richard did the rest of the laundry.
Richard vacuumed the house and chased a barking Ginger around with the vacuum cleaner. She hates the vacuum cleaner.
I brushed my teeth and took a shower before noon.
We went to Walmart and got the grocery shopping out of the way. We loaded up on spicy chicken wings to eat over bowl games tomorrow.
Richard bought himself a new pair of $9 jeans.
I am blogging.
What do all these things tell me about what is to come in 2011?
I will continue my walking routine helping to keep off the 25 pounds I managed to loose in 2010. That is if we eat all the wings in one sitting so that we get sick and vow never to buy them again. Richard and I will shop in Walmart and continue our frugal ways of saving money on everything we might ever need. I must admit he looks quite cute in his $9 jeans, even cuter than the $32 ones he bought at the department store which we now have to return.
I will be clean. Our clothes will be washed. My house will be clean and neat.
Ginger, the dog however will still be neurotic therefore I'll still have stories to entertain you with.
Here's wishing you all a happy, healthy and prosperous 2011.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
A Year of Living Frugally
In the month of December I always find myself reflecting back on the year, its highlights and lowlights. 2010 was again a year of great change and adjustment. Since saving money is crucial in a life without a fat salary, I want to share with you the top ten money saving tips Richard and I have put into place.
10. Refill the water cooler bottle from the tap. The water is crystal clear here so when the 5 gallon bottle runs out we stick it under the faucet saving $6 for the water and another $6 for deposit.
9. We let Ginger's hair grow out saving us grooming expense. We like her better with soft, curly hair and since the weather's been so cold she's warmer too. We save $50 every time she doesn't visit the groomer.
8. Richard's stick deodorant broke in two one day. He called Old Spice to complain and they sent him a coupon for a new one. Savings = $4.
7. We rode our bikes about 3 miles to a new gas station with a pizza parlor inside. We each ordered a slice for lunch. Richard's was kind of burnt on the bottom. He ate half the pizza before showing it to the guy behind the counter. He wolfed down 2 pieces of pizza for the price of one.
6. When our sweet tooth kicks in, we make a trip to the bank. Otis Spunkmeyer cookies are baked fresh there daily. And we don't even have to transact any business for free chocolate chip cookies!
5. Leave it to Richard to find free samples tucked back in the corner of the bakery at Walmart. Cupcakes, cookies, chocolate covered pretzels are there for the taking. I like having something to nibble while I shop.
4. Buy a new energy efficient house and turn down the air conditioning. Last month my electric bill was under $100 dollars.
3. Save the bottle caps from all the 2 liter bottles of Coke that Richard drinks. I got a thousand hotel points and a gift card to Chili's. Mmmm. Fajitas!
2. Buy a membership to Sam's club for $40. Shop, shop, shop and load up the freezer. Cancel the membership to Sam's and renew it in another 6 months when the freezer is finally empty.
1. Clip the $10 off coupon on the purchase of $100 American Express gift card. $100 worth of anything I want for only $90. It's a better return on my money than I can get at the bank.
Here's hoping you have a happy and healthy and frugal New Year!
10. Refill the water cooler bottle from the tap. The water is crystal clear here so when the 5 gallon bottle runs out we stick it under the faucet saving $6 for the water and another $6 for deposit.
9. We let Ginger's hair grow out saving us grooming expense. We like her better with soft, curly hair and since the weather's been so cold she's warmer too. We save $50 every time she doesn't visit the groomer.
8. Richard's stick deodorant broke in two one day. He called Old Spice to complain and they sent him a coupon for a new one. Savings = $4.
7. We rode our bikes about 3 miles to a new gas station with a pizza parlor inside. We each ordered a slice for lunch. Richard's was kind of burnt on the bottom. He ate half the pizza before showing it to the guy behind the counter. He wolfed down 2 pieces of pizza for the price of one.
6. When our sweet tooth kicks in, we make a trip to the bank. Otis Spunkmeyer cookies are baked fresh there daily. And we don't even have to transact any business for free chocolate chip cookies!
5. Leave it to Richard to find free samples tucked back in the corner of the bakery at Walmart. Cupcakes, cookies, chocolate covered pretzels are there for the taking. I like having something to nibble while I shop.
4. Buy a new energy efficient house and turn down the air conditioning. Last month my electric bill was under $100 dollars.
3. Save the bottle caps from all the 2 liter bottles of Coke that Richard drinks. I got a thousand hotel points and a gift card to Chili's. Mmmm. Fajitas!
2. Buy a membership to Sam's club for $40. Shop, shop, shop and load up the freezer. Cancel the membership to Sam's and renew it in another 6 months when the freezer is finally empty.
1. Clip the $10 off coupon on the purchase of $100 American Express gift card. $100 worth of anything I want for only $90. It's a better return on my money than I can get at the bank.
Here's hoping you have a happy and healthy and frugal New Year!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
I Want to Wake Up In the Morning Where the Orange Blossoms Grow
I've lost twenty-five pounds and I've managed to keep it off for a few months partly due to my new fitness regime. I get out of bed at 6:30 am and walk 3 miles every morning unless it's raining.
Snow is not a possibility here in Florida and I wouldn't go out if we were having a once in a lifetime blizzard. That's a given. This morning however, it was around 40 degrees outside. It sure felt like the blizzard was imminent. (For all of you who are now shaking your heads in disbelief, I've lived in Florida for a very long time.)
My usual workout clothes won't due at that temperature so I had to improvise. I left on the pair of socks I'd slept in. First I put on a pair of navy blue leggings of unknown origin. Over those came a pair of ancient black sweat pants. This morning I chose my favorite pink tank top that I wore during my fondly remembered hike out of the Grand Canyon. Next came an ivory turtleneck that I bought in a ski shop here in Florida when I planned a trip to Niagara Falls in March, over which I put on my white Nike running jacket that I picked up in Portland, Oregon. I stuffed my feet into a stretched out pair of sneakers and was ready to face the cold.
I stuck my nose out the front door and came right back in. I grabbed a too big, bulky gray hoodie that says 'Disneyland' on the chest. Several years ago my sister and I were in California and it started raining. We were forced to buy something to keep us warm so we could continue to follow Mickey Mouse around the park.
Barely able to move my arms, I headed out. Half way through I wondered what in the heck I was doing. My toes and fingers freezing, I shivered while I walked. Looking ahead I kept marching. Brilliant orange and pink filled the sky, birds chirped and I waved hello to my other walking buddies who also braved the cold. Sunrise was particularly spectacular this morning.
I walk each morning not just to stay fit, but to see how God has blessed me with a new day right here in Florida. And I thank God I've had the opportunity to travel and collect the clothes I need to stay warm when the temperature drops below a balmy 75!
Snow is not a possibility here in Florida and I wouldn't go out if we were having a once in a lifetime blizzard. That's a given. This morning however, it was around 40 degrees outside. It sure felt like the blizzard was imminent. (For all of you who are now shaking your heads in disbelief, I've lived in Florida for a very long time.)
My usual workout clothes won't due at that temperature so I had to improvise. I left on the pair of socks I'd slept in. First I put on a pair of navy blue leggings of unknown origin. Over those came a pair of ancient black sweat pants. This morning I chose my favorite pink tank top that I wore during my fondly remembered hike out of the Grand Canyon. Next came an ivory turtleneck that I bought in a ski shop here in Florida when I planned a trip to Niagara Falls in March, over which I put on my white Nike running jacket that I picked up in Portland, Oregon. I stuffed my feet into a stretched out pair of sneakers and was ready to face the cold.
I stuck my nose out the front door and came right back in. I grabbed a too big, bulky gray hoodie that says 'Disneyland' on the chest. Several years ago my sister and I were in California and it started raining. We were forced to buy something to keep us warm so we could continue to follow Mickey Mouse around the park.
Barely able to move my arms, I headed out. Half way through I wondered what in the heck I was doing. My toes and fingers freezing, I shivered while I walked. Looking ahead I kept marching. Brilliant orange and pink filled the sky, birds chirped and I waved hello to my other walking buddies who also braved the cold. Sunrise was particularly spectacular this morning.
I walk each morning not just to stay fit, but to see how God has blessed me with a new day right here in Florida. And I thank God I've had the opportunity to travel and collect the clothes I need to stay warm when the temperature drops below a balmy 75!
Sunday, November 28, 2010
It's Official
Like every good American on Thanksgiving morning, Richard and I watched the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. We lost interest in the marching bands after awhile turning off the television until about five minutes before noon. It's not Christmas unless I see Santa Claus arrive in Herald Square.
A fairly new tradition follows the parade. The National Dog Show. Since I'm a dog lover, I watch to watch all the cute, furry animals. Richard watches to pick out his next dog. Mr. Peterman, of Seinfeld fame, announces that the AKC has recognized six new breeds this year. As the sporting group pranced out on the floor, the Boykin Spaniel is the first of the new kids on the block to take to the show ring.
"There's Ginger!" I exclaimed.
"Only Ginger would never be a show dog. Her teeth are crooked." Richard replied.
The show dog looked exactly like my Ginger. She was a deep chocolate brown with a curly coat, sparkling eyes and an infectious smile. The Boykin toddled across the floor just like Ginger walks down the street and hopped up on her handler like I've seen Ginger do a million times. The dog on TV didn't have the crooked teeth or a curled up lip but other than it was identical to my precious, Ginger.
"She's not used to the lights and the cheering crowd," says Mr. Peterman as the dog hopped and jumped for the judge instead of trotting across the ring like a well behaved animal.
Immediately I knew her actions had nothing to do with being nervous in front of the audience. The girl was a Boykin through and through.
My little girl who bounces around the house, stealing glasses from the table, and nibbles off my dinner plate is not unusually hyper or overly energetic. All her brothers, sisters and cousins have the same demeanor. Cute, cuddly, fiery and precious. And now Boykin Spaniels are on display for all the world to see. I couldn't care less about the other five new breeds. Ginger is a my Boykin Spaniel, pure bred, AKC, love of my life.
A fairly new tradition follows the parade. The National Dog Show. Since I'm a dog lover, I watch to watch all the cute, furry animals. Richard watches to pick out his next dog. Mr. Peterman, of Seinfeld fame, announces that the AKC has recognized six new breeds this year. As the sporting group pranced out on the floor, the Boykin Spaniel is the first of the new kids on the block to take to the show ring.
"There's Ginger!" I exclaimed.
"Only Ginger would never be a show dog. Her teeth are crooked." Richard replied.
The show dog looked exactly like my Ginger. She was a deep chocolate brown with a curly coat, sparkling eyes and an infectious smile. The Boykin toddled across the floor just like Ginger walks down the street and hopped up on her handler like I've seen Ginger do a million times. The dog on TV didn't have the crooked teeth or a curled up lip but other than it was identical to my precious, Ginger.
"She's not used to the lights and the cheering crowd," says Mr. Peterman as the dog hopped and jumped for the judge instead of trotting across the ring like a well behaved animal.
Immediately I knew her actions had nothing to do with being nervous in front of the audience. The girl was a Boykin through and through.
My little girl who bounces around the house, stealing glasses from the table, and nibbles off my dinner plate is not unusually hyper or overly energetic. All her brothers, sisters and cousins have the same demeanor. Cute, cuddly, fiery and precious. And now Boykin Spaniels are on display for all the world to see. I couldn't care less about the other five new breeds. Ginger is a my Boykin Spaniel, pure bred, AKC, love of my life.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Wild Kingdom
It must be getting cold up north. This morning I looked out at the lake and it was covered with birds. Hundreds of them, here on a little rest stop during their flight south. Richard, Ginger and I pulled up a chair on the patio and watched.
Beautiful white egrets lined the banks. They spaced themselves at about 10 foot intervals circling the lake. I guess the trip had been long and they needed some space from each other. The geese swam in the lake for a while and then gathered on the opposite shore. They flocked together like they were conducting a meeting. The cormourants are the funniest. They swim with only their long necks sticking out of the water. In an instant they disappear, diving below to look for fish only to pop up again several feet away.
"Hey, look at that guy. he walks like me," says Richard.
"Like he's old," I added. It's a big white bird with a long beak, white feathers tipped in black, long black legs and bright orange feet. They slowly lumber across the bank hunched over like little old men.
For a while the birds frolic and splash and squawk. The noise is so loud Richard and I are yelling to hear each other talk. And then suddenly all is quiet. Birds of all colors, shapes and sizes are sprawled out across the yard and around the lake. It's nap time.
Ginger barks. "No Ginger. They're sleeping. Don't wake them." She looks at me titling her head to one side trying to understand. "They've had a long journey. They need to rest." She finds a spot and curls up to enjoy the cool breeze.
But as soon as they wake, the activity starts again and Ginger intently watches through the screen. Her old friends have come to visit.
It's winter in Florida. Let the wildlife show begin.
Beautiful white egrets lined the banks. They spaced themselves at about 10 foot intervals circling the lake. I guess the trip had been long and they needed some space from each other. The geese swam in the lake for a while and then gathered on the opposite shore. They flocked together like they were conducting a meeting. The cormourants are the funniest. They swim with only their long necks sticking out of the water. In an instant they disappear, diving below to look for fish only to pop up again several feet away.
"Hey, look at that guy. he walks like me," says Richard.
"Like he's old," I added. It's a big white bird with a long beak, white feathers tipped in black, long black legs and bright orange feet. They slowly lumber across the bank hunched over like little old men.
For a while the birds frolic and splash and squawk. The noise is so loud Richard and I are yelling to hear each other talk. And then suddenly all is quiet. Birds of all colors, shapes and sizes are sprawled out across the yard and around the lake. It's nap time.
Ginger barks. "No Ginger. They're sleeping. Don't wake them." She looks at me titling her head to one side trying to understand. "They've had a long journey. They need to rest." She finds a spot and curls up to enjoy the cool breeze.
But as soon as they wake, the activity starts again and Ginger intently watches through the screen. Her old friends have come to visit.
It's winter in Florida. Let the wildlife show begin.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Boo! It's Halloween!
We now live in a 55 plus community, since we moved almost two years ago. This kind of community has much to offer and we love our home. But one thing it doesn't have is Halloween. No kids live here to come trick or treating. We don't have to worry if the porch light is on or off, no one is going to ring the doorbell either way. We don't have to have bags of chocolate sitting around tormenting us before or leftovers after the scary day. And we don't have to deal with a crazy, barking, lip quivering dog.
But Halloween still comes to our house.
An old and well used scary, white monster mask and matching black flowing cape appear. I don't even know where they're kept. Richard can't remember what he had for breakfast yet he remembers where he hid the Halloween costumes year after year.
My nephew, Scott and his wife, Becky along with their friend, April Amber Autumn, (we can never remember her name, we only know it's a season and it starts with A, or is it?) came up to see us today. Yesterday the mask came out. First Richard tried to scare me with it and then tormented Ginger for a little while. Then he planned a big scare for Scott, Becky and Autumn. When they rang the doorbell, he'd slowly open the door and scare the bejesus out of them.
I stood lookout in the front bedroom. The car pulled up and I yelled for Richard to get into position. I hid in the kitchen, Ginger was safely locked away in the bedroom. The door bell rang.
The latched clicked open on the door. A couple seconds past. Then the laughter began. Lots of it. Hysterical, hard belly laughter. I couldn't stop laughing myself. This was definitely not the reaction he was looking for.
The costume is safely back in it's hiding place for another year. And the relatives are appropriately amused so they have a story to tell over the water cooler tomorrow. Ginger and I are safe from the creepy costume for at least another year.
But Halloween still comes to our house.
An old and well used scary, white monster mask and matching black flowing cape appear. I don't even know where they're kept. Richard can't remember what he had for breakfast yet he remembers where he hid the Halloween costumes year after year.
My nephew, Scott and his wife, Becky along with their friend, April Amber Autumn, (we can never remember her name, we only know it's a season and it starts with A, or is it?) came up to see us today. Yesterday the mask came out. First Richard tried to scare me with it and then tormented Ginger for a little while. Then he planned a big scare for Scott, Becky and Autumn. When they rang the doorbell, he'd slowly open the door and scare the bejesus out of them.
I stood lookout in the front bedroom. The car pulled up and I yelled for Richard to get into position. I hid in the kitchen, Ginger was safely locked away in the bedroom. The door bell rang.
The latched clicked open on the door. A couple seconds past. Then the laughter began. Lots of it. Hysterical, hard belly laughter. I couldn't stop laughing myself. This was definitely not the reaction he was looking for.
The costume is safely back in it's hiding place for another year. And the relatives are appropriately amused so they have a story to tell over the water cooler tomorrow. Ginger and I are safe from the creepy costume for at least another year.
Monday, October 25, 2010
From Puzzles to Pancakes
The puzzle is done and I wondered how Richard would fill his time. He didn't waste any time trying to figure that out.
It's pancake day again. Two huge bags of pancake mix have been mixed and measured and are now sitting in bowls waiting to be cooked. My kitchen is now white, having been covered from top to bottom in sticky, wet pancake mix. Richard even has it all over his face. Soon I won't be able to find the dog. She'll be covered in it too.
It's 5:30 pm. I'm off to yoga.
It's pancake day again. Two huge bags of pancake mix have been mixed and measured and are now sitting in bowls waiting to be cooked. My kitchen is now white, having been covered from top to bottom in sticky, wet pancake mix. Richard even has it all over his face. Soon I won't be able to find the dog. She'll be covered in it too.
It's 5:30 pm. I'm off to yoga.
Puzzling Puzzles
An email arrived from our niece-in-law in Vermont. It read,
"Something special is on it's way to you. The record is 36 hours."
Attached was a picture of Richard's brother, Bob, sitting at a table with something spread out in front of him but I couldn't tell what.
A couple of days later a package arrived in the mail. A jigsaw puzzle of Norristown, Pennsylvania where Richard and Bob had grown up. It's a topographical map with lots of colors and lines. Thank God for the Schuykill River running through the middle of it or we wouldn't have a chance.
I emailed back. "Puzzle's here. Game on."
Richard went to work looking for the edges then he sorted all 440 pieces by color. I love jigsaw puzzles. I grew up in a home where we were never without a puzzle on a card table in the living room. I'd sit for hours. The more difficult the better. I won't stop until it was finished. I went to work. Thirty six hours, piece of cake.
Inch by inch the border came together. Words and landmarks fell into place and waited for me to find their spot. Blue river ran across the map grounding the puzzle. Richard colorized the pieces over and over again as I moved them around, picking them up, putting them back.
"Where is Hickorytown?" I asked. I'd put the words together put didn't know where to place them.
"I don't know." Richard answered.
"You grew up here. I came from Ohio. Why don't you know?" Richard just came back from a trip home. It should be fresh in his mind. I kept my nose to the grindstone. The clock was ticking.
More than once I accused the Vermonters of keeping a few pieces just to torment us a little bit. I knew they hadn't but it fun to pick on them. Finally Richard and I celebrated as I tapped the last piece into place.
I'd been tracking our time. Ten hours. I blew the record out of the park. Taking a picture of the completed puzzle as evidence, I quickly emailed it to the family. Excitedly they turned over the record to us. Giving each other a high five, we happily accepted.
Sadly, we stared at the puzzle not wanting to take it apart. It was a work of art, consuming every waking hour. We'd won the contest! Now what were we going to do with our time?
"Something special is on it's way to you. The record is 36 hours."
Attached was a picture of Richard's brother, Bob, sitting at a table with something spread out in front of him but I couldn't tell what.
A couple of days later a package arrived in the mail. A jigsaw puzzle of Norristown, Pennsylvania where Richard and Bob had grown up. It's a topographical map with lots of colors and lines. Thank God for the Schuykill River running through the middle of it or we wouldn't have a chance.
I emailed back. "Puzzle's here. Game on."
Richard went to work looking for the edges then he sorted all 440 pieces by color. I love jigsaw puzzles. I grew up in a home where we were never without a puzzle on a card table in the living room. I'd sit for hours. The more difficult the better. I won't stop until it was finished. I went to work. Thirty six hours, piece of cake.
Inch by inch the border came together. Words and landmarks fell into place and waited for me to find their spot. Blue river ran across the map grounding the puzzle. Richard colorized the pieces over and over again as I moved them around, picking them up, putting them back.
"Where is Hickorytown?" I asked. I'd put the words together put didn't know where to place them.
"I don't know." Richard answered.
"You grew up here. I came from Ohio. Why don't you know?" Richard just came back from a trip home. It should be fresh in his mind. I kept my nose to the grindstone. The clock was ticking.
More than once I accused the Vermonters of keeping a few pieces just to torment us a little bit. I knew they hadn't but it fun to pick on them. Finally Richard and I celebrated as I tapped the last piece into place.
I'd been tracking our time. Ten hours. I blew the record out of the park. Taking a picture of the completed puzzle as evidence, I quickly emailed it to the family. Excitedly they turned over the record to us. Giving each other a high five, we happily accepted.
Sadly, we stared at the puzzle not wanting to take it apart. It was a work of art, consuming every waking hour. We'd won the contest! Now what were we going to do with our time?
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Heaven Too!
The box arrived from the cabin finally. Filled with tasty treats it made my mouth water all over again. Richard put the contents in the freezer.
"It'll keep us from eating it all at once," he told me.
"Why would we want to do that?" I asked.
We sat down to dinner with our piece of salmon and large salad. This is the diet dinner that allowed us each to lose 25 pounds over the past few months. We'd had this so often we were finally starting to enjoy eating all the bunny food.
"So what's for dessert?" Richard said as he finished the last bit of lettuce on his plate.
Without waiting for an answer he got a shoo fly cake from the freezer and warmed it up in the microwave. He set it in front of me with a knife. I cut it in half. I took a bite from my half and savored every last crumb. Richard did the same with his. It was heaven.
The next day at lunch, we ate our salad and then enjoyed a loaf of applesauce cake. At dinner we wolfed down the pumpkin bread. We gave away one loaf of shoo fly cake to a neighbor. One less for us to eat. We've been following this same routine for several days now. There are still several delicious cakes in the freezer but at this rate, heaven is not going to last much longer. Fortunately I know the phone number of the cabin where these goodies are made. I'll just call and order some more. Until I get back on the scale, that is.
"It'll keep us from eating it all at once," he told me.
"Why would we want to do that?" I asked.
We sat down to dinner with our piece of salmon and large salad. This is the diet dinner that allowed us each to lose 25 pounds over the past few months. We'd had this so often we were finally starting to enjoy eating all the bunny food.
"So what's for dessert?" Richard said as he finished the last bit of lettuce on his plate.
Without waiting for an answer he got a shoo fly cake from the freezer and warmed it up in the microwave. He set it in front of me with a knife. I cut it in half. I took a bite from my half and savored every last crumb. Richard did the same with his. It was heaven.
The next day at lunch, we ate our salad and then enjoyed a loaf of applesauce cake. At dinner we wolfed down the pumpkin bread. We gave away one loaf of shoo fly cake to a neighbor. One less for us to eat. We've been following this same routine for several days now. There are still several delicious cakes in the freezer but at this rate, heaven is not going to last much longer. Fortunately I know the phone number of the cabin where these goodies are made. I'll just call and order some more. Until I get back on the scale, that is.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Heaven
Richard went to Philadelphia to visit the grandkids. Five days of peace and quiet, writing, sleeping in, going out to eat, hanging with friends. Heaven.
On Sunday, I made the trek to the airport to pick him up. I was anxious to see him but also sad my single life was over. Five days seemed to have passed in a nano second. There were still plenty of things I wanted to do but had simply run out of time.
"I brought you some shoo fly cake," he said after he kissed me hello.
"Yum. When can we eat it?" I asked.
Shoo fly cake is a moist gooey version of the famous pie but without a crust. The ladies at The Cabin Shop at the Washington Memorial Chapel at Valley Forge cook it up and wrap it up with a ribbon in small tin loaf pans. Richard's mother used to make it when she volunteered at the shop. It's been a family favorite for years.
"Do you want it before or after the soft pretzel?" Richard laughed.
"Before." I love shoo fly cake even though a soft pretzel from Philadelphia is a very close second.
The 45 minute drive home seemed agonizingly long. Once I finally pulled in the garage, we raced into the kitchen, ripped open the pretty package and devoured the cake. Heaven.
The next night was baseball night, the Rays versus the Rangers. My mouth watered for the soft pretzel, the perfect baseball snack. I popped two of them into the microwave for a few seconds. Richard and I settled in on the sofa with our pretzels. I took a bite, chewed it slowly, tasted it's richness. Heaven.
We've eaten all the Philly food that fit in the carry-on suitcase. We're anxiously awaiting another delivery from the UPS man. Those ladies at the cabin are sending us a large box filled with shoo fly cake, banana bread and applesauce cake. And when it arrives... Heaven.
On Sunday, I made the trek to the airport to pick him up. I was anxious to see him but also sad my single life was over. Five days seemed to have passed in a nano second. There were still plenty of things I wanted to do but had simply run out of time.
"I brought you some shoo fly cake," he said after he kissed me hello.
"Yum. When can we eat it?" I asked.
Shoo fly cake is a moist gooey version of the famous pie but without a crust. The ladies at The Cabin Shop at the Washington Memorial Chapel at Valley Forge cook it up and wrap it up with a ribbon in small tin loaf pans. Richard's mother used to make it when she volunteered at the shop. It's been a family favorite for years.
"Do you want it before or after the soft pretzel?" Richard laughed.
"Before." I love shoo fly cake even though a soft pretzel from Philadelphia is a very close second.
The 45 minute drive home seemed agonizingly long. Once I finally pulled in the garage, we raced into the kitchen, ripped open the pretty package and devoured the cake. Heaven.
The next night was baseball night, the Rays versus the Rangers. My mouth watered for the soft pretzel, the perfect baseball snack. I popped two of them into the microwave for a few seconds. Richard and I settled in on the sofa with our pretzels. I took a bite, chewed it slowly, tasted it's richness. Heaven.
We've eaten all the Philly food that fit in the carry-on suitcase. We're anxiously awaiting another delivery from the UPS man. Those ladies at the cabin are sending us a large box filled with shoo fly cake, banana bread and applesauce cake. And when it arrives... Heaven.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Something Strange in My Living Room
The strangeness of it sent shivers down my spine. The pillows from the sofa were strewn across the floor. Magazines littered the coffee table. A wilting plant on the counter cried out for water. In the middle of it all stood the strangest thing of all with long white scissors for legs. It wore a padded bra of sorts with hideous blue and white stripes. Oh no! An ironing board.
"We can't afford the dry cleaner any more," Richard announced. I'd sent him there with some clothes I needed to wear at my new job.
"Why not?" I asked.
"They want four dollars a blouse. Do you know how long you have to work to pay for that?" he responded."
"Almost a half an hour." I'm earning ten dollars an hour and I still want to live the life I used to have. Richard and I often have the discussion of when we started to think that $10 an hour was a good paying job. We're not quite sure when our minds shifted but it was sometime in between when I was laid off and now. Reality sunk in quite quickly when I saw that ironing board.
When I was working I dropped off the overstuffed bags of dry cleaning in the comfort of my own office building. I haven't pressed my own clothes in years. At that time I only had to work for maybe an hour to pay the cleaner to work magic on our clothing. We didn't even own an ironing board. I wondered if I could even remember how to do it. Iron, that is. My! How life has changed.
So for $25 I now have an ironing board which I have to work two and a half hours to pay for. Today I ironed six cotton blouses, each taking roughly five minutes to complete. Six shirts at four dollars a piece comes to $24 so I have already paid for the privilege of ironing my own clothes. I know. Convoluted math. No matter what kind of math Richard uses, I think my paltry paycheck was spent long before I ever earned it.
But I'm fairly certain, I have a new skill to proudly display on my resume.
"We can't afford the dry cleaner any more," Richard announced. I'd sent him there with some clothes I needed to wear at my new job.
"Why not?" I asked.
"They want four dollars a blouse. Do you know how long you have to work to pay for that?" he responded."
"Almost a half an hour." I'm earning ten dollars an hour and I still want to live the life I used to have. Richard and I often have the discussion of when we started to think that $10 an hour was a good paying job. We're not quite sure when our minds shifted but it was sometime in between when I was laid off and now. Reality sunk in quite quickly when I saw that ironing board.
When I was working I dropped off the overstuffed bags of dry cleaning in the comfort of my own office building. I haven't pressed my own clothes in years. At that time I only had to work for maybe an hour to pay the cleaner to work magic on our clothing. We didn't even own an ironing board. I wondered if I could even remember how to do it. Iron, that is. My! How life has changed.
So for $25 I now have an ironing board which I have to work two and a half hours to pay for. Today I ironed six cotton blouses, each taking roughly five minutes to complete. Six shirts at four dollars a piece comes to $24 so I have already paid for the privilege of ironing my own clothes. I know. Convoluted math. No matter what kind of math Richard uses, I think my paltry paycheck was spent long before I ever earned it.
But I'm fairly certain, I have a new skill to proudly display on my resume.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
My New Sculptured Carpet
Richard's decided to go into the dog grooming business. Poor, poor, Ginger.
Yesterday when I came home, Richard presented me with a plastic grocery bag full of Ginger's dark brown hair.
"I gave her a haircut. I saved us fifty dollars. Look at all this hair I cut off her." He seemed so proud of his accomplishment.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Uhm. In hiding." Richard responded.
I sat down on the sofa and out of nowhere came my precious little Ginger to sit on my lap. As she settled in, I inspected her. White skin peeked through on her chest where she'd been shaved. Long stripes of hair stood out on her back alongside patches of much shorter and varied lengths. She seemed oblivious to her bad haircut, thank goodness. If my own hairdresser had done this to my cherished locks, she'd be toast.
"She looks like a sculptured carpet. What the heck did you do to her?" I rubbed my fingers along an especially pronounced ridge of hair.
"She doesn't look that bad. Does she?" Richard pouted.
"Yes. She certainly does. People are going to stare when I take her out for a walk." Ginger perked up when she heard the word 'walk'.
"Tell them I'm starting my own dog grooming business. Try to sell them some gift certificates."
I rolled my eyes, put on her leash and said a prayer we wouldn't see anyone we knew. They might want to put her down as carpet so they can wiggle their toes through her soft sculptured pile.
Yesterday when I came home, Richard presented me with a plastic grocery bag full of Ginger's dark brown hair.
"I gave her a haircut. I saved us fifty dollars. Look at all this hair I cut off her." He seemed so proud of his accomplishment.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Uhm. In hiding." Richard responded.
I sat down on the sofa and out of nowhere came my precious little Ginger to sit on my lap. As she settled in, I inspected her. White skin peeked through on her chest where she'd been shaved. Long stripes of hair stood out on her back alongside patches of much shorter and varied lengths. She seemed oblivious to her bad haircut, thank goodness. If my own hairdresser had done this to my cherished locks, she'd be toast.
"She looks like a sculptured carpet. What the heck did you do to her?" I rubbed my fingers along an especially pronounced ridge of hair.
"She doesn't look that bad. Does she?" Richard pouted.
"Yes. She certainly does. People are going to stare when I take her out for a walk." Ginger perked up when she heard the word 'walk'.
"Tell them I'm starting my own dog grooming business. Try to sell them some gift certificates."
I rolled my eyes, put on her leash and said a prayer we wouldn't see anyone we knew. They might want to put her down as carpet so they can wiggle their toes through her soft sculptured pile.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Red Hot Jalapeno Peppers
I may have told you that Richard and I have lost alot of weight lately. I've lost close to twenty pounds and Richard almost thirty. So we've learned to eat salads and lots of them.
Since we found ourselves fat AND on a budget, we compare prices on everything including vegetables. The warehouse club is cheaper for just about all the produce but it's father away so we have to include mileage. Wal-mart is cheaper when tomatoes or strawberries are on sale, and has relatively good everyday prices. The regular grocery store is much more expensive so we only go there for thing like fake cheese that isn't sold elsewhere. Fake cheese you ask? Shredded soy cheese that I love and comes in mozzarella or cheddar flavor. Mmmm.
And then there are red and yellow peppers that we both love. But boy are peppers expensive! $1.78 each even at Wal-Mart. Richard went on a little outing today to the flea market in search of a salad bargain. He felt all the produce at all the different stands until he found exactly what he wanted. Arriving back home he showed off his treasures.
"Look at the size of that red pepper." He held it up to the light. It was quite plump and very red. "One dollar. I only paid one dollar for it."
Next he held up a small elongated green pepper. "And this one was only fourteen cents."
"But it's a jalapeno pepper," I said.
"I know. I thought we'd like a little kick in our salad for a change."
"I don't want it in mine. You eat it."
Richard went about making making four salads. Two for lunch and the other two would be kept in the refrigerator until dinner. Salad making is his new pastime. It keeps him out of trouble for at least a few minutes every day. And I don't have to do it or clean up. Works for me.
Richard is busy chopping away. The next thing I see is him holding his head over the kitchen sink, with the water running directly into his mouth.
"Hot pepper?" I asked.
"Really hot. I'd better pick them out." He stuck his tongue out trying to cool it.
I examined the green plates overflowing with lettuce, spinach, broccoli shreds, green peppers. There was no way he'd find the hot peppers in there.
"How are you going to find tiny slices of a green pepper in that sea of green?"
Richard put on his glasses so he could see more clearly. He pretended to pick out a few green pieces.
"I don't know but at least your sinuses will be cleared out."
We spent fourteen cents but saved a little on the allergy pill today. That's certainly a bargain!
Since we found ourselves fat AND on a budget, we compare prices on everything including vegetables. The warehouse club is cheaper for just about all the produce but it's father away so we have to include mileage. Wal-mart is cheaper when tomatoes or strawberries are on sale, and has relatively good everyday prices. The regular grocery store is much more expensive so we only go there for thing like fake cheese that isn't sold elsewhere. Fake cheese you ask? Shredded soy cheese that I love and comes in mozzarella or cheddar flavor. Mmmm.
And then there are red and yellow peppers that we both love. But boy are peppers expensive! $1.78 each even at Wal-Mart. Richard went on a little outing today to the flea market in search of a salad bargain. He felt all the produce at all the different stands until he found exactly what he wanted. Arriving back home he showed off his treasures.
"Look at the size of that red pepper." He held it up to the light. It was quite plump and very red. "One dollar. I only paid one dollar for it."
Next he held up a small elongated green pepper. "And this one was only fourteen cents."
"But it's a jalapeno pepper," I said.
"I know. I thought we'd like a little kick in our salad for a change."
"I don't want it in mine. You eat it."
Richard went about making making four salads. Two for lunch and the other two would be kept in the refrigerator until dinner. Salad making is his new pastime. It keeps him out of trouble for at least a few minutes every day. And I don't have to do it or clean up. Works for me.
Richard is busy chopping away. The next thing I see is him holding his head over the kitchen sink, with the water running directly into his mouth.
"Hot pepper?" I asked.
"Really hot. I'd better pick them out." He stuck his tongue out trying to cool it.
I examined the green plates overflowing with lettuce, spinach, broccoli shreds, green peppers. There was no way he'd find the hot peppers in there.
"How are you going to find tiny slices of a green pepper in that sea of green?"
Richard put on his glasses so he could see more clearly. He pretended to pick out a few green pieces.
"I don't know but at least your sinuses will be cleared out."
We spent fourteen cents but saved a little on the allergy pill today. That's certainly a bargain!
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Pickles
Our granddaughter, Melissa has just entered middle school. Everything is new, changing classes, having a locker, making new friends. She keeps telling us school is awesome, wonderful, terrific.
Today we spoke with Missy again.
"How was school today?" Poppy asked while I listened in on the other phone.
"O.K. Guess what?" she said.
"What?" we asked in unison, both surprised she hadn't used the word awesome.
"There's a teacher in this school. Her name is Mrs. McNichol."
"Oh, no," I immediately blurted out.
The rest of the world might say, "What wrong with a teacher named Mrs. McNichol?"
Richard has a very vivd memory as a child of a time when he went for a ride in the car with Uncle Johnny. Uncle Johnny taught him a few poems during their outing together. He made Richard repeat them over and over until the poems had been committed to his memory.
There they remained immortalized and ever since every Jaunich child has been taught the rhymes much to the dismay of their parents. Richard's legacy to the family so to speak. So here is why we know Mrs. McNichol.
"Missy, tell us the poem," Poppy said.
In her sweet eleven year old voice, Missy recited it for us.
"Mrs. McNichol went to pick pickles,
On a windy day.
Mrs. Martin came a fartin'
And blew them all away."
Poor unsuspecting Mrs. McNichol. Missy will never be able to look at her with a straight face.
Today we spoke with Missy again.
"How was school today?" Poppy asked while I listened in on the other phone.
"O.K. Guess what?" she said.
"What?" we asked in unison, both surprised she hadn't used the word awesome.
"There's a teacher in this school. Her name is Mrs. McNichol."
"Oh, no," I immediately blurted out.
The rest of the world might say, "What wrong with a teacher named Mrs. McNichol?"
Richard has a very vivd memory as a child of a time when he went for a ride in the car with Uncle Johnny. Uncle Johnny taught him a few poems during their outing together. He made Richard repeat them over and over until the poems had been committed to his memory.
There they remained immortalized and ever since every Jaunich child has been taught the rhymes much to the dismay of their parents. Richard's legacy to the family so to speak. So here is why we know Mrs. McNichol.
"Missy, tell us the poem," Poppy said.
In her sweet eleven year old voice, Missy recited it for us.
"Mrs. McNichol went to pick pickles,
On a windy day.
Mrs. Martin came a fartin'
And blew them all away."
Poor unsuspecting Mrs. McNichol. Missy will never be able to look at her with a straight face.
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Rocket in My Backyard
Last Saturday morning, a loud, thunderous noise awakened me from my slumber. The house shook as I struggled to get my feet out of bed and on the floor before the world around me collapsed. It was 7:07 am.
"Ginger! Quick! They're launching a rocket." I shouted over the rumbling.
In my pajamas, I ran to the living room with Ginger in tow, threw open the sliding glass door and raced outside to watch. The Atlas V rocket was already high in the sky. Its curly, white plume floated across the clear blue early morning sky. I stood watching the spectacle for several minutes as the rocket's rumble slowly faded into the morning quiet.
I have lived here on the Space Coast of Florida for nearly a year and a half. And I have to say that I will never get tired of watching rockets launch from my backyard. Shuttles and rockets are launched at all hours of the day and night. Shuttle launches get all the publicity and news coverage. All different kinds of rockets are sent into space more regularly that the rest of world is even aware. Every day the local paper prints the date and time of the next launch on the front page. In the middle of the night, the sound has often scared the bejesus out of me. In the afternoon, I've dropped everything to watch the minute the house started to shake. I'm fascinated.
And it's not just the launches. It's the landings too. I listen for the sonic booms as the shuttle prepares to land. One morning I was out for my usual walk when I thought I was being shot. Twice. When I didn't find any blood, I realized the shuttle was back home safe and sound.
I grew up in the sixties when space travel was new. In elementary school all the kids would be huddled in the gym to watch launches on a small black and white television. It was exciting then but it certainly can't hold a candle to the thrill of seeing the real thing, live and in person, right in my own backyard.
"Ginger! Quick! They're launching a rocket." I shouted over the rumbling.
In my pajamas, I ran to the living room with Ginger in tow, threw open the sliding glass door and raced outside to watch. The Atlas V rocket was already high in the sky. Its curly, white plume floated across the clear blue early morning sky. I stood watching the spectacle for several minutes as the rocket's rumble slowly faded into the morning quiet.
I have lived here on the Space Coast of Florida for nearly a year and a half. And I have to say that I will never get tired of watching rockets launch from my backyard. Shuttles and rockets are launched at all hours of the day and night. Shuttle launches get all the publicity and news coverage. All different kinds of rockets are sent into space more regularly that the rest of world is even aware. Every day the local paper prints the date and time of the next launch on the front page. In the middle of the night, the sound has often scared the bejesus out of me. In the afternoon, I've dropped everything to watch the minute the house started to shake. I'm fascinated.
And it's not just the launches. It's the landings too. I listen for the sonic booms as the shuttle prepares to land. One morning I was out for my usual walk when I thought I was being shot. Twice. When I didn't find any blood, I realized the shuttle was back home safe and sound.
I grew up in the sixties when space travel was new. In elementary school all the kids would be huddled in the gym to watch launches on a small black and white television. It was exciting then but it certainly can't hold a candle to the thrill of seeing the real thing, live and in person, right in my own backyard.
Friday, July 16, 2010
I'm Stuffed!
My sister, Martha came to visit yesterday. All week I'd been anxious for the day to come. Not so much to see her, even though I wanted very much to see her, but that because she was coming, Richard and I decided to take her out for dinner.
Richard and I have been on diets. I've lost 13 pounds and he's lost about 15. We've been making salads and grilling salmon. We cut out our visits to the dollar menu at McDonald's and stopped buying pretzels and tortilla chips. Needless to say we hadn't been to a restaurant in several months. We feel great and have started to crave those big salads but the dream of a fat juicy steak remained in the back of our minds.
At 5 o'clock Richard rushed my sister and me out the door. We were going to Longhorn. Richard was having the biggest prime rib. He'd decided that days in advance. I drove and Martha got a little nervous when I couldn't even find the restaurant. It's been a LONG time since we ate out.
"I'll have the prime rib," Richard announced to the server.
"I'll have the prime rib too," said Martha.
I opted for the filet mignon. As soon as the warm loaf of bread appeared on the table, it was gone. We fought to get to the butter. Next was the caesar salad which also disappeared in an instant.
"Can you bring us some more bread?" Richard waved at a different waitress. We stuffed more in our mouths when our meat arrived. We had very little dinner conversation. We were all too busy shoveling down our tender, juicy beef.
"How about some dessert tonight?" the cheerful waitress asked.
"Chocolate brownie sundae and three spoons," I said without hesitation.
Martha who said she didn't want any dessert was the first to dip her spoon into the ice cream for a taste. Once we made it to the bottom of the dish Richard waved his hand and ordered a second. We polished off the second sundae, paid the bill and left.
It was 5:40. We'd eaten twenty pounds of food in thirty minutes flat. Oh, it was good!
Richard and I have been on diets. I've lost 13 pounds and he's lost about 15. We've been making salads and grilling salmon. We cut out our visits to the dollar menu at McDonald's and stopped buying pretzels and tortilla chips. Needless to say we hadn't been to a restaurant in several months. We feel great and have started to crave those big salads but the dream of a fat juicy steak remained in the back of our minds.
At 5 o'clock Richard rushed my sister and me out the door. We were going to Longhorn. Richard was having the biggest prime rib. He'd decided that days in advance. I drove and Martha got a little nervous when I couldn't even find the restaurant. It's been a LONG time since we ate out.
"I'll have the prime rib," Richard announced to the server.
"I'll have the prime rib too," said Martha.
I opted for the filet mignon. As soon as the warm loaf of bread appeared on the table, it was gone. We fought to get to the butter. Next was the caesar salad which also disappeared in an instant.
"Can you bring us some more bread?" Richard waved at a different waitress. We stuffed more in our mouths when our meat arrived. We had very little dinner conversation. We were all too busy shoveling down our tender, juicy beef.
"How about some dessert tonight?" the cheerful waitress asked.
"Chocolate brownie sundae and three spoons," I said without hesitation.
Martha who said she didn't want any dessert was the first to dip her spoon into the ice cream for a taste. Once we made it to the bottom of the dish Richard waved his hand and ordered a second. We polished off the second sundae, paid the bill and left.
It was 5:40. We'd eaten twenty pounds of food in thirty minutes flat. Oh, it was good!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Frugal is Chic
There is a commercial for an appliance retailer that plays repeatedly around here. A woman wearing a bright green suit screams for us to come and buy her out of box refrigerators. Every commercial ends with man wearing a white t-shirt and jean shorts. He simply says thank you.
Recently the tag line 'Frugal is Chic' has been added to the mesmerizing advertisements. Richard, the man who during his working life literally had flames sprouting from his pockets because his money was burning a hole in them has turned into the king of frugality.
It started with the super duper size bag of pancake mix which he mixed and cooked and wrapped into two pancake portion controlled size packages. I haven't had to worry about where my breakfast was coming from in a very long time. Richard refuses to spend money on my expensive toaster waffles.
Then there's the water cooler. The water here in Viera is wonderful. One day I had a long conversation with the water tester from the city. His job is to drive around and test the quality of the water in different neighborhoods. He explained that the water comes directly from the aquafir. The guy was really into the water. I learned alot. Who'd ever thought I'd give up buying bottled water! Now when the 5 gallon jug runs out, Richard puts it under the faucet and immediately I'm good to go again. No more lugging $6 water jugs from the store and paying a $6 deposit just to have the pleasure of a sore back.
Ginger gets in on the savings too. She's a fussy eater so I've tried every kind of fancy dog food to tempt her. Now that Richard does the grocery shopping he bought the cheapest food he could find in Walmart. Fifty cents a can!! She wolfed it down. Amazing!
Don't worry. We're already using one ply toilet paper so you won't hear any tales from me about splitting the plys to make it last longer. It already lasts a really long time. Unless of course Ginger decides to grab the end and drag it all over the house. Since Ginger is always very chic, when she decides it's playtime, frugal doesn't matter.
Recently the tag line 'Frugal is Chic' has been added to the mesmerizing advertisements. Richard, the man who during his working life literally had flames sprouting from his pockets because his money was burning a hole in them has turned into the king of frugality.
It started with the super duper size bag of pancake mix which he mixed and cooked and wrapped into two pancake portion controlled size packages. I haven't had to worry about where my breakfast was coming from in a very long time. Richard refuses to spend money on my expensive toaster waffles.
Then there's the water cooler. The water here in Viera is wonderful. One day I had a long conversation with the water tester from the city. His job is to drive around and test the quality of the water in different neighborhoods. He explained that the water comes directly from the aquafir. The guy was really into the water. I learned alot. Who'd ever thought I'd give up buying bottled water! Now when the 5 gallon jug runs out, Richard puts it under the faucet and immediately I'm good to go again. No more lugging $6 water jugs from the store and paying a $6 deposit just to have the pleasure of a sore back.
Ginger gets in on the savings too. She's a fussy eater so I've tried every kind of fancy dog food to tempt her. Now that Richard does the grocery shopping he bought the cheapest food he could find in Walmart. Fifty cents a can!! She wolfed it down. Amazing!
Don't worry. We're already using one ply toilet paper so you won't hear any tales from me about splitting the plys to make it last longer. It already lasts a really long time. Unless of course Ginger decides to grab the end and drag it all over the house. Since Ginger is always very chic, when she decides it's playtime, frugal doesn't matter.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Oil Or No Oil, That is the Question
Richard and I own a timeshare in Key West. Our week is in the middle of July. With millions of barrels of oil looming in the Gulf, should we go or shouldn't we?
What kind of vacation will it be if the boats are not allowed out of the marina? What if we couldn't go fishing or swimming or relax on the beach? What if we were forced to hang out in Sloppy Joe's Bar all day for something to do? Or maybe I'd have to take my laptop to Hemingways's house to soak up the ambiance and write the next great American novel. Would the enjoyment of our vacation suffer because of it?
I may not be able to take the ferry ride to the Dry Tortugas that I've always wanted to do. But I can hang out in the Guy Harvey art gallery or climb to the widow's walk of an historic old home. From there I can watch the oil roll in while feeling the warm ocean breeze on my face. I feel sad for the people living in the Keys. Their livelihood depends on tourists to come, enjoy and return again next year. I think the sun will still set on the pier every night and be breathlessly gorgeous. And the cats will be there to jump through flaming hoops to the delight of the onlookers.
I looked up the Gulf currents on the Internet just now to see where the oil slick may be headed in the next six weeks. I clicked on a link 'Current location of oil slick'. Guess what I learned. Hot Oil Wresting video is on sale today for only $4.98. I think I'll buy it, take it along with me to watch in case it rains.
What kind of vacation will it be if the boats are not allowed out of the marina? What if we couldn't go fishing or swimming or relax on the beach? What if we were forced to hang out in Sloppy Joe's Bar all day for something to do? Or maybe I'd have to take my laptop to Hemingways's house to soak up the ambiance and write the next great American novel. Would the enjoyment of our vacation suffer because of it?
I may not be able to take the ferry ride to the Dry Tortugas that I've always wanted to do. But I can hang out in the Guy Harvey art gallery or climb to the widow's walk of an historic old home. From there I can watch the oil roll in while feeling the warm ocean breeze on my face. I feel sad for the people living in the Keys. Their livelihood depends on tourists to come, enjoy and return again next year. I think the sun will still set on the pier every night and be breathlessly gorgeous. And the cats will be there to jump through flaming hoops to the delight of the onlookers.
I looked up the Gulf currents on the Internet just now to see where the oil slick may be headed in the next six weeks. I clicked on a link 'Current location of oil slick'. Guess what I learned. Hot Oil Wresting video is on sale today for only $4.98. I think I'll buy it, take it along with me to watch in case it rains.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Ginger To The Rescue
Ginger has been laid off from her job. It's just too hot now for her to go to the golf course every day searching for balls. Plus she's got quite an inventory right now sitting in the garage that we don't know what to do with. Not to be discouraged she's been searching for a new job to supplement her biscuit income from bringing in the paper from the driveway each morning. I'm proud of her. Yesterday she landed a new job. Fire marshall.
Yesterday we celebrated Richard's birthday. We went to Panera Bread for lunch and then to the movies. We saw Sex And The City 2. It's cute and funny. Light movie entertainment. On the way home we stopped at Walmart where Richard picked out his cake and ice cream. Then I cooked him a fabulous prime rib dinner. Mmmm it was good.
After dinner I decided to run the self cleaning in the oven. The timer set itself for four hours and twenty minutes. Richard and I laid on the sofa watching a baseball game, (Go Tampa Bay Rays!) stuffing ourselves with cake and ice cream. Ginger was nowhere to be found. I thought it odd that she didn't have her nose within an inch of my dish, poised to have her own helping of birthday fare.
"Richard, call Ginger." She'll come when he calls but never when I do. I figured she was into something she shouldn't be like the trash can or the laundry basket.
"Ginger." No response. "Ginger, get over here." Still no dog appeared.
I dragged my over-stuffed belly off the couch. I went to the kitchen, checking on the oven first. The top of the stove was almost too hot to touch and the room smelled like burnt cookies. That's where I found Ginger staring at the appliance. She sat rigid on the kitchen floor.
"Ginger. It's OK. Good girl." I rubbed her neck under her ear where she likes it. "You were protecting us, weren't you? Good girl." I coaxed her with a biscuit to the cool and comfort of the sofa.
Richard showered her with praise. We were amazed at the power of love from our little baby girl. She only wanted to protect us. We were just happy that she found herself a new job.
At least somebody around here is contributing to the household. I went and cut myself another piece of cake. And I got Ginger another biscuit. She earned it.
Yesterday we celebrated Richard's birthday. We went to Panera Bread for lunch and then to the movies. We saw Sex And The City 2. It's cute and funny. Light movie entertainment. On the way home we stopped at Walmart where Richard picked out his cake and ice cream. Then I cooked him a fabulous prime rib dinner. Mmmm it was good.
After dinner I decided to run the self cleaning in the oven. The timer set itself for four hours and twenty minutes. Richard and I laid on the sofa watching a baseball game, (Go Tampa Bay Rays!) stuffing ourselves with cake and ice cream. Ginger was nowhere to be found. I thought it odd that she didn't have her nose within an inch of my dish, poised to have her own helping of birthday fare.
"Richard, call Ginger." She'll come when he calls but never when I do. I figured she was into something she shouldn't be like the trash can or the laundry basket.
"Ginger." No response. "Ginger, get over here." Still no dog appeared.
I dragged my over-stuffed belly off the couch. I went to the kitchen, checking on the oven first. The top of the stove was almost too hot to touch and the room smelled like burnt cookies. That's where I found Ginger staring at the appliance. She sat rigid on the kitchen floor.
"Ginger. It's OK. Good girl." I rubbed her neck under her ear where she likes it. "You were protecting us, weren't you? Good girl." I coaxed her with a biscuit to the cool and comfort of the sofa.
Richard showered her with praise. We were amazed at the power of love from our little baby girl. She only wanted to protect us. We were just happy that she found herself a new job.
At least somebody around here is contributing to the household. I went and cut myself another piece of cake. And I got Ginger another biscuit. She earned it.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Love Is In the Air
It's love bug season. If any of you have spent any time driving on Florida highways, you may be familiar with our famous love bugs. At high speeds they find quick deaths on the bumpers of cars all while in the heat of the moment. They die together like Romeo and Juliet. If left in that wonderous position for too long, the paint slowly disintegrates on your once pristine new car.
Today Richard and I drove to Walmart for our daily trip. We didn't go on any freeway, only our usual neighborhood roads. It rained little spots of black bugs the entire route. I stopped at a red light. The windshield quickly became covered with bugs.
"Look. It's like a pick up joint," as I pointed out the singles from the doubles. "See, those two are hooking up and these guys are still looking." The light turned green and the barflies scattered. Momentarily.
I parked the car. They returned and waited for me to pour them all a beer. Walking through the parking lot more swarmed around. I swatted my arms and legs, jumping around like I had been walking on hot coals.
"These guys are really gross," as I squished a pair on my hand.
"They're not bothering me. I must smell better than you," Richard replied.
I reached out and pretended to wipe my hand on his shirt. Just then he slapped his neck.
"I guess you just needed to feel the love." We held hands, the gooey ones, as we walked into the store.
Today Richard and I drove to Walmart for our daily trip. We didn't go on any freeway, only our usual neighborhood roads. It rained little spots of black bugs the entire route. I stopped at a red light. The windshield quickly became covered with bugs.
"Look. It's like a pick up joint," as I pointed out the singles from the doubles. "See, those two are hooking up and these guys are still looking." The light turned green and the barflies scattered. Momentarily.
I parked the car. They returned and waited for me to pour them all a beer. Walking through the parking lot more swarmed around. I swatted my arms and legs, jumping around like I had been walking on hot coals.
"These guys are really gross," as I squished a pair on my hand.
"They're not bothering me. I must smell better than you," Richard replied.
I reached out and pretended to wipe my hand on his shirt. Just then he slapped his neck.
"I guess you just needed to feel the love." We held hands, the gooey ones, as we walked into the store.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Wrestling Ernest Hemingway
I've put myself on a schedule. Richard's ranting about Ernest Hemingway finally sunk in.
"You're never going to be the next Ernest Hemingway," he yelled to me every morning as I struggled to pry my body out of my cozy, warm bed.
I'd yawn and pull the covers over my head.
"Hemingway had a schedule. Write, fish, drink then sleep. You'll never be like him lounging around in bed," he'd say.
"OK. OK," I agreed.
I set the alarm for six and I must be out of bed by six-thirty. I happen to be a big fan of the snooze button. I have breakfast, read the paper and then set off on a walk by seven-fifteen. Writing begins at eight-thirty until lunch.
I've been on this schedule for a week and a half. I stay pretty much on track. If there's something interesting on the Today Show I might stay and watch for awhile. There's been a few mornings I didn't sit down until close to nine. It's progress in any event.
There are so many distractions to writing on a computer. Email, Facebook, check the stock market. I have to check Amazon every day to see if One Clown Short had any sales overnight. Sometimes it does. That makes it even harder to get down to business.
I can't say I have much work to show for my efforts in the past ten days. Too many electronic distractions. Then add Richard and Ginger to the mix, I'm lucky I get anything done at all. It's coming though, I can feel it. My writing has to bubble up and stew for awhile before it appears on the page. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Every day I become more and more focused. I think the rule is if you do something for three weeks it will be come habit. I still have a way to go. But I'm thinking maybe I should trade in my brand new, top of the line, laptop and all its distractions in order to become an award winning author like Ernest Hemingway. Anybody know where I can buy a typewriter?
"You're never going to be the next Ernest Hemingway," he yelled to me every morning as I struggled to pry my body out of my cozy, warm bed.
I'd yawn and pull the covers over my head.
"Hemingway had a schedule. Write, fish, drink then sleep. You'll never be like him lounging around in bed," he'd say.
"OK. OK," I agreed.
I set the alarm for six and I must be out of bed by six-thirty. I happen to be a big fan of the snooze button. I have breakfast, read the paper and then set off on a walk by seven-fifteen. Writing begins at eight-thirty until lunch.
I've been on this schedule for a week and a half. I stay pretty much on track. If there's something interesting on the Today Show I might stay and watch for awhile. There's been a few mornings I didn't sit down until close to nine. It's progress in any event.
There are so many distractions to writing on a computer. Email, Facebook, check the stock market. I have to check Amazon every day to see if One Clown Short had any sales overnight. Sometimes it does. That makes it even harder to get down to business.
I can't say I have much work to show for my efforts in the past ten days. Too many electronic distractions. Then add Richard and Ginger to the mix, I'm lucky I get anything done at all. It's coming though, I can feel it. My writing has to bubble up and stew for awhile before it appears on the page. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.
Every day I become more and more focused. I think the rule is if you do something for three weeks it will be come habit. I still have a way to go. But I'm thinking maybe I should trade in my brand new, top of the line, laptop and all its distractions in order to become an award winning author like Ernest Hemingway. Anybody know where I can buy a typewriter?
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Sublet in the Backyard
I'd written before about Sam and Sally, the two Sand Hill Cranes living in the backyard. They sublet their cozy apartment and flew the coop to parts unknown. A new couple has moved in and show no signs of flying back to Nebraska anytime soon.
Big Guy is huge. He's almost as tall as me. His wife, Little Girl barely comes up to my hip. They come each morning and stare at the patio. As soon as they see us moving around inside the house, Big Guy flaps his wings and does a dance. Breakfast is on its way! Little Girl hangs back until I'm safely back inside again. Big Guy wastes no time in digging in.
Even Ginger can't scare these two off. She barks her fool head off at them and they just ignore her. I tell her that they get fed her the same way she does. She barks anyway.
Little Girl didn't come by for a couple days. I feared she'd been eaten by an alligator. Big Guy came right on time all by himself. One morning I could hear his squawking. Their call is very distinctive but I swear I recognize his voice. I looked out and couldn't see him. He called again. Finally I spotted him on the far side of the lake.
"Hey Big Guy. You're a good bird," I yelled over to him. He squawked and then flew off. A few minutes later he's in the backyard accompanied by Little Girl.
"Phew." I wiped my brow in relief and threw more seed in her direction. I wonder if she's been sitting on an egg. Or maybe she'd gone on a girls only weekend with some friends. I'm not too well versed in the ways of Sand Hill cranes other than they mate for life. Obviously she was hungry and told him to check to see if we were home before she flew all the way over here. He did and we were.
I hope that some day soon a third little one will join us for meals. Ginger might have something to say about that but life doesn't get any better than renting out the backyard to a pair of grateful birds.
Big Guy is huge. He's almost as tall as me. His wife, Little Girl barely comes up to my hip. They come each morning and stare at the patio. As soon as they see us moving around inside the house, Big Guy flaps his wings and does a dance. Breakfast is on its way! Little Girl hangs back until I'm safely back inside again. Big Guy wastes no time in digging in.
Even Ginger can't scare these two off. She barks her fool head off at them and they just ignore her. I tell her that they get fed her the same way she does. She barks anyway.
Little Girl didn't come by for a couple days. I feared she'd been eaten by an alligator. Big Guy came right on time all by himself. One morning I could hear his squawking. Their call is very distinctive but I swear I recognize his voice. I looked out and couldn't see him. He called again. Finally I spotted him on the far side of the lake.
"Hey Big Guy. You're a good bird," I yelled over to him. He squawked and then flew off. A few minutes later he's in the backyard accompanied by Little Girl.
"Phew." I wiped my brow in relief and threw more seed in her direction. I wonder if she's been sitting on an egg. Or maybe she'd gone on a girls only weekend with some friends. I'm not too well versed in the ways of Sand Hill cranes other than they mate for life. Obviously she was hungry and told him to check to see if we were home before she flew all the way over here. He did and we were.
I hope that some day soon a third little one will join us for meals. Ginger might have something to say about that but life doesn't get any better than renting out the backyard to a pair of grateful birds.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Again
As of yesterday I'm officially unemployed. Again. Now that tax season is over I can no longer use work as an excuse for not having enough time to do all the things I'm supposed to do. Like exercise, clean the house, pay the bills, look for a job, write. Doing tax returns was fun and fulfilling. I enjoyed stress free work for a change. Never a dull moment in the tax office that's for sure. I looked forward to going to work every day. Now what am I going to do?
I tweeted that I was unemployed and now someone called 'Career Finder' is following me on Twitter. A new job is right around the corner, I can feel it. It will tweet me.
Now mind you, my pay preparing taxes was paltry compared to my past employment. I didn't mind. The new book material I gathered is going to knock your socks off! Yesterday my sister-in-law posed a tax question on Facebook.
"If a stripper has a boob job, can she deduct it as a business expense?"
I commented, "No she can't. But she can deduct her pasties since they are considered clothing that can only be worn for business." Then I added, "And don't call them strippers. They call themselves entertainers."
She's now so impressed with my tax knowledge, she put dibs on the first copy of my new book. Whatever that turns out to be.
Maybe I'll start tweeting little known tax tips. Maybe I'll write the next great American novel. Maybe I'll just relax and wait for that perfect new job to be my friend on Facebook. Something good is right around the corner. I can feel it. It's out there circling around in the big black hole called the Internet.
I tweeted that I was unemployed and now someone called 'Career Finder' is following me on Twitter. A new job is right around the corner, I can feel it. It will tweet me.
Now mind you, my pay preparing taxes was paltry compared to my past employment. I didn't mind. The new book material I gathered is going to knock your socks off! Yesterday my sister-in-law posed a tax question on Facebook.
"If a stripper has a boob job, can she deduct it as a business expense?"
I commented, "No she can't. But she can deduct her pasties since they are considered clothing that can only be worn for business." Then I added, "And don't call them strippers. They call themselves entertainers."
She's now so impressed with my tax knowledge, she put dibs on the first copy of my new book. Whatever that turns out to be.
Maybe I'll start tweeting little known tax tips. Maybe I'll write the next great American novel. Maybe I'll just relax and wait for that perfect new job to be my friend on Facebook. Something good is right around the corner. I can feel it. It's out there circling around in the big black hole called the Internet.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Sweet Sweet Peas
As soon as I hit the 'publish post' button on the Sweet Peas posting, I went to the kitchen to fix lunch for Richard and me. The weather is gorgeous so we sat on the patio to enjoy our meal.
"What are we going to do with those peas and carrots?" Richard asked me.
After I finished gagging on my sandwich, I answered, "I just posted a blog about them."
After Richard practically spit out his sandwich, he answered, "Throw them out."
"Fine with me," I laughed.
"If we throw them out, it all ends up in the same place anyway. We only bypass the eating step," said Richard in his infinite wisdom.
"I'm with you. Let's throw them out."
Richard thought about it for a minute. "No, we shouldn't waste a whole dollar. Let's pick out the peas."
"You pick out the peas. That's disgusting."
"All right I will." He went to the kitchen to look for the bag of peas. He spread them on the counter. "You do this. I'll clean up the lunch dishes if you separate out all the peas." He knows I hate to do dishes. He got two bowls from the cupboard and set me to work.
Peas to the right. Corn and carrots to the left.
"If you miss a few, it won't kill us," he yelled from the living room.
"If they won't kill us, why am I picking them out?" I yelled back.
"To save a dollar," he answered.
A pea saved is a penny earned.
"What are we going to do with those peas and carrots?" Richard asked me.
After I finished gagging on my sandwich, I answered, "I just posted a blog about them."
After Richard practically spit out his sandwich, he answered, "Throw them out."
"Fine with me," I laughed.
"If we throw them out, it all ends up in the same place anyway. We only bypass the eating step," said Richard in his infinite wisdom.
"I'm with you. Let's throw them out."
Richard thought about it for a minute. "No, we shouldn't waste a whole dollar. Let's pick out the peas."
"You pick out the peas. That's disgusting."
"All right I will." He went to the kitchen to look for the bag of peas. He spread them on the counter. "You do this. I'll clean up the lunch dishes if you separate out all the peas." He knows I hate to do dishes. He got two bowls from the cupboard and set me to work.
Peas to the right. Corn and carrots to the left.
"If you miss a few, it won't kill us," he yelled from the living room.
"If they won't kill us, why am I picking them out?" I yelled back.
"To save a dollar," he answered.
A pea saved is a penny earned.
Sweet Peas
"Linda, look at this," said Richard as he took several bags of frozen vegetables out of his shopping bag.
"What about them?" I asked.
"Ninety-six cents. They're the same as Birds Eye aren't they?"
I stared at the white freezer bags with the store brand on them.
"I don't think so." I answered.
"Those steamer bags are three dollars. You can't tell me these vegetables aren't just as good as those." Now he wanted to argue. Usually money burns a hole in his pocket. Lately I've seen him get on savings kicks and when he does, there's no stopping him. He ends up spending more than he saves.
I picked up one of the bags with a picture of corn and carrots and peas. "Why'd you buy this one?" I asked.
"It's only ninety-six cents," he answered.
"But it's peas." I handed him his glasses so he could see.
Richard hates peas and so do I. He tells stories how as a child he hid the peas from his dinner plate on a little ledge under the dining room table only for his mother to find all shriveled up a week later. In all the years of our marriage, I've never served him a single green pea.
"No way! I hate peas." He held the bag close to his face to examine it more closely.
"I'm not going to eat them either. I guess it's not such a bargain after all, is it?" I chuckled.
"Mix it up with rice or potatoes so I can't see the peas. Trick me somehow."
"And I still won't eat them. I hate peas too, remember?" Trick him! Huh! Like that would ever happen. If I cooked them, I'd already know where the peas were hiding.
"We have to eat them. I spent a dollar on them." Richard threw the bag into the freezer.
Our investment just moved up a whole four cents.
The bag of peas will happily chill in the freezer until the end of their days. I figure we might get our money out of them when one of us pulls a muscle and we need an ice pack. I guess that's as frugal as we're going to get when it comes to green peas. Penny wise. Pea foolish.
"What about them?" I asked.
"Ninety-six cents. They're the same as Birds Eye aren't they?"
I stared at the white freezer bags with the store brand on them.
"I don't think so." I answered.
"Those steamer bags are three dollars. You can't tell me these vegetables aren't just as good as those." Now he wanted to argue. Usually money burns a hole in his pocket. Lately I've seen him get on savings kicks and when he does, there's no stopping him. He ends up spending more than he saves.
I picked up one of the bags with a picture of corn and carrots and peas. "Why'd you buy this one?" I asked.
"It's only ninety-six cents," he answered.
"But it's peas." I handed him his glasses so he could see.
Richard hates peas and so do I. He tells stories how as a child he hid the peas from his dinner plate on a little ledge under the dining room table only for his mother to find all shriveled up a week later. In all the years of our marriage, I've never served him a single green pea.
"No way! I hate peas." He held the bag close to his face to examine it more closely.
"I'm not going to eat them either. I guess it's not such a bargain after all, is it?" I chuckled.
"Mix it up with rice or potatoes so I can't see the peas. Trick me somehow."
"And I still won't eat them. I hate peas too, remember?" Trick him! Huh! Like that would ever happen. If I cooked them, I'd already know where the peas were hiding.
"We have to eat them. I spent a dollar on them." Richard threw the bag into the freezer.
Our investment just moved up a whole four cents.
The bag of peas will happily chill in the freezer until the end of their days. I figure we might get our money out of them when one of us pulls a muscle and we need an ice pack. I guess that's as frugal as we're going to get when it comes to green peas. Penny wise. Pea foolish.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
New Math
"Forty." Richard says as I sit poised in front of the calculator. I punch in 4 - 0.
"Divided into one thousand six hundred and forty three."
I hit the clear button.
"Why do you always do that to me? You say it backwards. What was the number again?" I ask.
"It's not backwards," he whines.
"Yes it is. Say one thousand six hundred and forty three divided by forty. That's how it has to go into the calculator." By now I'm totally exasperated.
Anyone who knows us knows will know that Richard is thirteen years older than me. He's really quick at doing math problems in his head. It's taken me awhile to figure out what our disconnect is when it comes to electronic devices. He doesn't know how to turn on the computer. But he knows exactly what he can use it for. He's very familiar with the term information super highway. Whenever he needs to know something, I'm the first person he asks to look it up on Yay Who as he calls it.
"When did they start teaching new math in school?" The light bulb finally turned on in my head.
"I have no idea. What's new math?" he responded.
"The difference between you and me," I said. "Forty one point zero seven five."
"Well you do look pretty good for your age," Richard winked.
New math. The way to a woman's heart. Or is it old math. Either way it sure works for me.
"Divided into one thousand six hundred and forty three."
I hit the clear button.
"Why do you always do that to me? You say it backwards. What was the number again?" I ask.
"It's not backwards," he whines.
"Yes it is. Say one thousand six hundred and forty three divided by forty. That's how it has to go into the calculator." By now I'm totally exasperated.
Anyone who knows us knows will know that Richard is thirteen years older than me. He's really quick at doing math problems in his head. It's taken me awhile to figure out what our disconnect is when it comes to electronic devices. He doesn't know how to turn on the computer. But he knows exactly what he can use it for. He's very familiar with the term information super highway. Whenever he needs to know something, I'm the first person he asks to look it up on Yay Who as he calls it.
"When did they start teaching new math in school?" The light bulb finally turned on in my head.
"I have no idea. What's new math?" he responded.
"The difference between you and me," I said. "Forty one point zero seven five."
"Well you do look pretty good for your age," Richard winked.
New math. The way to a woman's heart. Or is it old math. Either way it sure works for me.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
From Pinto to Prius
With all the news reports of runaway Prius' on the road, I now give my trusted Penelope Prius a loving pat on the dashboard before I fire her up. I love my 2008 Prius. She's perfect for me.
I started thinking what my attraction was to recalled cars. In the late seventies, after graduating from college, my grandmother gave me $500 to get myself a car. I got a used pea green Pinto. It was perfect for me. The small compact car got me where I wanted to go, to my first job in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Then they started catching on fire. I kept driving. Once I was stopped on the road by a local news crew. Cameras rolling, I gave them an interview and then told all my friends to watch me on the six o'clock news. My car made me a star!!
My cars changed over time but the ones I remember the most all start with 'P'. After meeting Richard we bought a Pontiac 6000. Once we had a fight over who was going to drive it. I threw my engagement ring at him so I could have the Pontiac. Obviously we made up. At about 90,000 miles we traded that for the next P car.
A car I really loved was my Volkswagen Passat. I felt I'd arrived in that car. My dream car, hunter green with tan leather interior made me feel important. Tight German engineering made it a pleasure to drive. And the sound system. To die for!
In my Prius I have all those things in my car that I earned one by one over the years. Leather seats, sound system, back up camera, keyless entry. So now when I get into my Prius and put the pedal to the metal, a pang inside me says, "Is it me? Or is it the letter 'P'?" I think for a minute and then say to myself, "In 'P' I trust."
I started thinking what my attraction was to recalled cars. In the late seventies, after graduating from college, my grandmother gave me $500 to get myself a car. I got a used pea green Pinto. It was perfect for me. The small compact car got me where I wanted to go, to my first job in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Then they started catching on fire. I kept driving. Once I was stopped on the road by a local news crew. Cameras rolling, I gave them an interview and then told all my friends to watch me on the six o'clock news. My car made me a star!!
My cars changed over time but the ones I remember the most all start with 'P'. After meeting Richard we bought a Pontiac 6000. Once we had a fight over who was going to drive it. I threw my engagement ring at him so I could have the Pontiac. Obviously we made up. At about 90,000 miles we traded that for the next P car.
A car I really loved was my Volkswagen Passat. I felt I'd arrived in that car. My dream car, hunter green with tan leather interior made me feel important. Tight German engineering made it a pleasure to drive. And the sound system. To die for!
In my Prius I have all those things in my car that I earned one by one over the years. Leather seats, sound system, back up camera, keyless entry. So now when I get into my Prius and put the pedal to the metal, a pang inside me says, "Is it me? Or is it the letter 'P'?" I think for a minute and then say to myself, "In 'P' I trust."
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Toto, Toto! Where Are You?
I realize I'm writing an awful lot about birds lately. It's winter and I live in Florida so birds are a major part of the landscape during these months.
I've moved within walking distance of the Emerald City and all it's glory. About a week ago, a tornado came within a half mile of our home, tearing down fences and trees. Our house was spared but I'm still searching for those ruby slippers. There has to be a dead witch around here somewhere, I'm sure of it. As part of the recent once in a lifetime, eleven day cold spell, many fish in the lakes have died. A constant fishy smell permeates the air and fish carcasses float in the ponds. If you need reassurance that God is real, this is it. Send in the turkey vultures. Clean up on aisle five!
The vultures swarm looking for a gourmet meal. Large black birds circle overhead for hours at a time. The sky is filled with them in every direction. Vultures are very large birds, and as I watch them overhead, an image of Dorothy in the forest with winged monkeys flying above is etched in my mind. This morning while Ginger and I were on our walk, I seriously thought that one might swoop down and and carry us off to the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West. Another would pick up Ginger. I'd scream and cry, "Don't hurt my Ginger!"
We eventually arrived back home safe and sound with a pair of gorgeous ruby red shoes on my feet and the stub of a broomstick in my hand. Ginger peeked out of the picnic basket I carried on my arm and all was right with the world.
I've moved within walking distance of the Emerald City and all it's glory. About a week ago, a tornado came within a half mile of our home, tearing down fences and trees. Our house was spared but I'm still searching for those ruby slippers. There has to be a dead witch around here somewhere, I'm sure of it. As part of the recent once in a lifetime, eleven day cold spell, many fish in the lakes have died. A constant fishy smell permeates the air and fish carcasses float in the ponds. If you need reassurance that God is real, this is it. Send in the turkey vultures. Clean up on aisle five!
The vultures swarm looking for a gourmet meal. Large black birds circle overhead for hours at a time. The sky is filled with them in every direction. Vultures are very large birds, and as I watch them overhead, an image of Dorothy in the forest with winged monkeys flying above is etched in my mind. This morning while Ginger and I were on our walk, I seriously thought that one might swoop down and and carry us off to the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West. Another would pick up Ginger. I'd scream and cry, "Don't hurt my Ginger!"
We eventually arrived back home safe and sound with a pair of gorgeous ruby red shoes on my feet and the stub of a broomstick in my hand. Ginger peeked out of the picnic basket I carried on my arm and all was right with the world.
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Birds
My backyard has turned into something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Richard can't keep the bird feeders filled. Hundreds of blackbirds swarm the feeders each day. One bird hangs and shakes it so seed gets spread all over the ground. The rest then eat their fill. Once that group is finished a new one flies in.
This pattern repeats itself over and over again, until Sam and Sally show up. The black birds scatter when the pair of large cranes make their appearance. But Sam and Sally are wearing out their welcome. They've lost any fear of humans. Or Ginger for that matter. Now they walk right up to the screen and stand in the planting beds. And stare. And stare. And stare. Ginger runs onto the patio and goes nose to beak with them with only the screen to protect her. She barks her fool head off and Sam and Sally could care less. They just stare at her. I think it's driving Ginger crazy too.
It's getting kind of creepy if you ask me. As soon as I throw some corn their way, they eat and then make their way to the lake for a bath. When it's time for the next meal, they climb up the bank and begin the stare down again.
When are they going to go back to Nebraska? After looking at the winter weather report, I don't think it'll be anytime soon. Stop feeding them you say? Tell that to Dr. Doolittle.
This pattern repeats itself over and over again, until Sam and Sally show up. The black birds scatter when the pair of large cranes make their appearance. But Sam and Sally are wearing out their welcome. They've lost any fear of humans. Or Ginger for that matter. Now they walk right up to the screen and stand in the planting beds. And stare. And stare. And stare. Ginger runs onto the patio and goes nose to beak with them with only the screen to protect her. She barks her fool head off and Sam and Sally could care less. They just stare at her. I think it's driving Ginger crazy too.
It's getting kind of creepy if you ask me. As soon as I throw some corn their way, they eat and then make their way to the lake for a bath. When it's time for the next meal, they climb up the bank and begin the stare down again.
When are they going to go back to Nebraska? After looking at the winter weather report, I don't think it'll be anytime soon. Stop feeding them you say? Tell that to Dr. Doolittle.
Friday, January 22, 2010
There's No Place Like Home
This is Florida so we expect the snowbirds to arrive this time each year. We just didn't expect them to move in with us.
Sam and Sally Crane have moved in and made themselves comfortable in the backyard. Remember my last post was about Richard feeding a pair of sand hill cranes. Well it seems they like the menu and have decided to stay. I named them Sam and Sally so we could be on a first name basis.
They no longer squawk to announce their arrival each day. They simply walk up to the screen and lay down. If they see either Richard or me pass in front of the window, Sam pops up followed by Sally. If we don't come out, they sit back down and wait. The Crane's seem to be quite patient.
"Come quick! Look!" shouted Richard yesterday afternoon.
Sam was on top of Sally having his way with her. When he finished, they got cozy on the lawn again.
Mr. and Mrs. Crane have decided they like the neighborhood. With a little one on the way, they felt the need to settle down and take advantage of that first time homebuyer credit from the government. Their sofa and large screen TV should show up any day now. I'm sure they'll call us when they want their pizza delivered.
Ah! There's no place like home.
Sam and Sally Crane have moved in and made themselves comfortable in the backyard. Remember my last post was about Richard feeding a pair of sand hill cranes. Well it seems they like the menu and have decided to stay. I named them Sam and Sally so we could be on a first name basis.
They no longer squawk to announce their arrival each day. They simply walk up to the screen and lay down. If they see either Richard or me pass in front of the window, Sam pops up followed by Sally. If we don't come out, they sit back down and wait. The Crane's seem to be quite patient.
"Come quick! Look!" shouted Richard yesterday afternoon.
Sam was on top of Sally having his way with her. When he finished, they got cozy on the lawn again.
Mr. and Mrs. Crane have decided they like the neighborhood. With a little one on the way, they felt the need to settle down and take advantage of that first time homebuyer credit from the government. Their sofa and large screen TV should show up any day now. I'm sure they'll call us when they want their pizza delivered.
Ah! There's no place like home.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Dr. Doolittle Lives Here
Richard's made some new friends. Two Sand Hill cranes are now living in our backyard. According to Wikipedia, Sand Hill cranes migrate here in winter from Nebraska. They mate for life and therefore are always in pairs. Sometimes I see three together but that must be a child that hasn't been married off yet. The cranes stand four to five feet tall with long spindly legs, fluffy gray feathers and a distinctive red and white face. The birds have little fear of humans, or Richard. Me, they're not so sure.
"God will reward us for taking care of his animals," as Richard threw the dried corn and bird seed in the pair's direction.
"If you feed them, they'll never leave." I admonish.
The larger male eats first while the female hangs back. I threw some food toward her but she wouldn't touch it until he finished.
I yelled at him. "She needs to eat too, you know!" They backed away from this strange, mean, human.
Sand Hill cranes have a very loud bird call. Usually we can hear them coming long before we see them. They also have very specific mealtimes. At precisely 10:30am the squawking starts. It stops the minute Richard appears. They return again at 5 pm. Richard drops everything to run outside at their first call. He holds the corn in his hand while they gently take it from him.
After dining on their gourmet meal, the couple bathes on the edge of the lake. Wings spread, they dance together, hopping and splashing in the water. That must be why they can mate for life. They make sure they still have date night. I must admit it's a beautiful sight. It's our reward.
Dr. Doolitle is real and he lives here with me.
"God will reward us for taking care of his animals," as Richard threw the dried corn and bird seed in the pair's direction.
"If you feed them, they'll never leave." I admonish.
The larger male eats first while the female hangs back. I threw some food toward her but she wouldn't touch it until he finished.
I yelled at him. "She needs to eat too, you know!" They backed away from this strange, mean, human.
Sand Hill cranes have a very loud bird call. Usually we can hear them coming long before we see them. They also have very specific mealtimes. At precisely 10:30am the squawking starts. It stops the minute Richard appears. They return again at 5 pm. Richard drops everything to run outside at their first call. He holds the corn in his hand while they gently take it from him.
After dining on their gourmet meal, the couple bathes on the edge of the lake. Wings spread, they dance together, hopping and splashing in the water. That must be why they can mate for life. They make sure they still have date night. I must admit it's a beautiful sight. It's our reward.
Dr. Doolitle is real and he lives here with me.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
On the Cover of Vogue
As you probably know by now, Florida has been in the grips of a cold snap for the past two weeks. I no longer think that 'snap' is the appropriate word for it. I've lived here for thirty years and have never experienced this kind of cold. We dug out the hats, gloves and scarves from the back of the closet. They've gotten more use lately than since we bought them for to use for some exotic trip to a cold weather country we were taking.
Ginger doesn't typically travel with us so there wasn't any dog sized gear hidden away for her. I went to the store and bought her a coat. A red fleecy one to compliment her chocolate brown coloring. I never imagined Ginger as a prissy kind of girl until the day she first wore her new coat.
I slipped it over her head and fastened it around her belly. She smiled. It matched her red collar and leash. She knew she looked stunning and couldn't wait to go outside to strut her stuff. Head held high she pranced down the street as if to say "Look at me!"
And look they did. Everyone we encountered commented on her lovely red coat.
The compliments went to her head. When we got home, back inside where it's warm, I tried to take off her coat.
"Grrrrr."
"Don't you growl at me." I scolded. Ginger raced off across the room.
I grabbed her and yanked the garment over her head.
"Grrrrr." She got a piece in her mouth and shook her head madly.
"Give that to me." I chased her.
When I finally got the coat from her, I hid it in the closet. She stood outside the door staring. I felt so guilty I put it back on her to wear around the house. All dressed up, she crawled into her spot and went to sleep.
She always gets excited when I say the word 'walk' but these days it's even more exciting to put on her coat. She sits perfectly still in order to be dressed.
I don't think she's cold, she just wants to be ready for her photo shoot for Vogue. I wonder what she'll do when I buy her some boots to match.
Ginger doesn't typically travel with us so there wasn't any dog sized gear hidden away for her. I went to the store and bought her a coat. A red fleecy one to compliment her chocolate brown coloring. I never imagined Ginger as a prissy kind of girl until the day she first wore her new coat.
I slipped it over her head and fastened it around her belly. She smiled. It matched her red collar and leash. She knew she looked stunning and couldn't wait to go outside to strut her stuff. Head held high she pranced down the street as if to say "Look at me!"
And look they did. Everyone we encountered commented on her lovely red coat.
The compliments went to her head. When we got home, back inside where it's warm, I tried to take off her coat.
"Grrrrr."
"Don't you growl at me." I scolded. Ginger raced off across the room.
I grabbed her and yanked the garment over her head.
"Grrrrr." She got a piece in her mouth and shook her head madly.
"Give that to me." I chased her.
When I finally got the coat from her, I hid it in the closet. She stood outside the door staring. I felt so guilty I put it back on her to wear around the house. All dressed up, she crawled into her spot and went to sleep.
She always gets excited when I say the word 'walk' but these days it's even more exciting to put on her coat. She sits perfectly still in order to be dressed.
I don't think she's cold, she just wants to be ready for her photo shoot for Vogue. I wonder what she'll do when I buy her some boots to match.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Ginger Gets A Job
Finally. One of us has a job. It's Ginger!
Every afternoon Richard and Ginger head off for their walk. They hang around the fringes of the golf course looking for balls. There's alot of competition out there. One guy comes by in his golf cart with two Springer Spaniels hoping to beat out little Ginger. But he's no match for my fearless duo on foot.
She may be little but she's got the scent of golf balls committed to memory. The past two days in a row, Richard arrived home with his pockets bulging. Twenty balls the first day and twenty-one the second. He emptied his pockets one by one throwing the balls in the sink.
"Gee. She's getting the ones that have been out there awhile, isn't she?" as I counted them. Dirt and grass caked the balls. Most of them were barely even white anymore.
"She sticks her nose way down in the brush. You should see that tail wag when she comes up with one." Richard praised her again while throwing five biscuits on the floor as her reward. "You're a keeper, Ginger."
"Thanks Ginger for keeping us out of the poor house. How much do you think we can sell these for?" I sat down at the computer and started searching Ebay for used golf balls. Prices varied but at $5 or $10 a dozen, I think she's on to something.
"You've got a new job, Ginger. Good for you!" She smiled her toothy smile and wagged her tail. At least one of us now has a job. Things may be looking up in 2010 after all.
Every afternoon Richard and Ginger head off for their walk. They hang around the fringes of the golf course looking for balls. There's alot of competition out there. One guy comes by in his golf cart with two Springer Spaniels hoping to beat out little Ginger. But he's no match for my fearless duo on foot.
She may be little but she's got the scent of golf balls committed to memory. The past two days in a row, Richard arrived home with his pockets bulging. Twenty balls the first day and twenty-one the second. He emptied his pockets one by one throwing the balls in the sink.
"Gee. She's getting the ones that have been out there awhile, isn't she?" as I counted them. Dirt and grass caked the balls. Most of them were barely even white anymore.
"She sticks her nose way down in the brush. You should see that tail wag when she comes up with one." Richard praised her again while throwing five biscuits on the floor as her reward. "You're a keeper, Ginger."
"Thanks Ginger for keeping us out of the poor house. How much do you think we can sell these for?" I sat down at the computer and started searching Ebay for used golf balls. Prices varied but at $5 or $10 a dozen, I think she's on to something.
"You've got a new job, Ginger. Good for you!" She smiled her toothy smile and wagged her tail. At least one of us now has a job. Things may be looking up in 2010 after all.
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