New Years Eve brought us a wonderful, butt-wagging, foot-flapping surprise: Cruiser, our resident duck, came waddling back to our yard.Surprise of surprises! With Paul running to the kitchen tograb some multi grain bread, Mama Cruiser,who is leaner, began snorting,wiggling her way past the screen door.
She was as excited to see us as we were to see her-- at least 3 months have passed since her last visit.What better New Year’s than to haveOl’ Snorty back in our lives.
Funny how much we missed feather-butt and her almost daily visits. I was sure that my scolding had sent her off into a huff when she had voraciously grabbedthe bread from my hand, as well as my finger.
My New Year’s resolution--at least one? Cruiser, I promise not to quack at you!
I’m going under the microscope today. I feel like a bug in a Far Side cartoon. I warned my eye surgeon I’d better not see antennae sprouting from his head, or see that he’s suddenly transformed into a drooling mad doctor with a penchant for experimentation. I’m going into the O.R. with two eyes, doc--not three.
I’m not supposed to eat or drink before surgery. Right now, I’m smelling scrambled eggs and turkey bacon, and Tom just asked if I could make him some coffee. Cruel…
Another thing on the list is No Makeup. God help me…Halloween is over, isn't it? No lotions or perfumes--I’ll come out of surgery smelling like a rubber tire. Tommy Bahama…I need my Tommy!
I guess the hospital is afraid the patient might light up--literally. It’s happened: Combustible patients are really on the rise… Check the sprinkler system--quick!
I’ll be glad when the Trilogy of The Eye is done. Doctor Corrent said a few extra stitches should fix the leak. Thanks, doc… Winterize me while you’re at it! B-rrrr...
Looking for some greasy fries and McNuggets! [Paul's pic}
Commercials--you either hate them or love them. I’ve yet to see mama bear and her cubs in the woods with a roll of toilet paper. We’ve had a bear, but he was after our bird feeder. Personally, I’m a fan of White Cloud 3-Ply Ultra.
When it comes to geckos, the only ones I’ve seen are sunbathing on the lanai, pumping their tiny muscles: Up, down, up, down…
Car commercials really drive me nuts, with their high-octane spokespersons stoked on too many Red Bulls or Starbucks, screaming the month end sales pitches. I’ve never used the Mute button so much…
When it comes to nutrition bars, I’ve never been transported to or even thought of a mountain vista while eating one. If you look closely, most of the nutrition bars are loaded with too much sugar and carbs. I’d probably bike right off the mountain after eating one! I still grab carrot sticks for a snack.
I remember the shampoo ad with a gorgeous gal with lustrous locks who said, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” Don’t worry…never did, never will. I didn't like the shampoo which seemed to make my hair oily after a few days.
Beauty ads with young women are another gripe of mine. I’ve yet to see anyone past 40 in the skin firming ads. If you notice the before and after pictures, the lighting is always different, too.
The befores use a lighting position which accentuates the wrinkles and shadows. The after shots are always lighter because of fill lighting eliminating the before look.
I get a big kick from the automatic ab device ad. Apparently you don't have to exert needlessly to achieve a 6-pack. The guys and gals are always young in those ads, and it did take months of working out to look that way. If the ab device can do housework too, I'll order one!
Someday, maybe I’ll see an ad for a TV which automatically eliminates commercials. Until then…mute, mute, mute!
If the movies were casting for a pirate movie, I’d be perfect: I’ve been sporting a Pirate Pete black eye patch the last few days.
I had a setback, post cataract surgery, when a few stitches began weakening. My eye became watery and inflamed causing double vision, and sending me pronto to my surgeon. Years ago I had RK, which scarred and softened the cornea, leading to the existing problem.
So, ol’ Patchy now has a contact lens keeping added pressure applied to help stave the errant stitches and heal the eye. The lens adds to the double vision and lack of depth perception, so the patch helps, blocking that problem.
On a scale of 1-10 on Nancy’s Humor Scale, don’t expect too much ha-ha from me today. It’s still a little rough to see especially after taking the $200 eye drops, which really set me off the plank at the pharmacy where I stood dumbfounded, mouth open, in complete shock, that a tiny bottle of 10ml drops could cost that much. Funny thing is I apparently saved $60!.
Not one to be duped, I did some cyber investigating. I found the same drops selling anywhere from $30 to $90. Other pharmacies were charging $150. Even my surgeon was dumbstruck by my cost.
So, patch-covered and blood boiling a bit on my Richter scale, I faced the tall and mouthy young man who sold me the prescription. Like a Peanuts movie, I bleah-bleah blaaa blaad at him about my price discoveries and discrepancies. He became defiant, so I walked away and served the kid up to the store manager, vowing not to return to the store pharmacy.
Later, I attempted to make a pumpkin pie and added too much/too little of some ingredients. Jen and Paul complained of bubbling stomachs soon after taking a few bites. I must have a cast iron stomach, though I knew something was amiss.
I want to make some Christmas cookies, but I’m enlisting Jen to measure the ingredients. I don’t want to be responsible for any rolling and pitching stomachs.
As Christmas nears, Ahoy mates, swab the decks while yer at it!
I’m still trying to figure out what to make for Christmas dinner. I’ve been driving around scouting out the roadways, but there’s nothing worth picking up. Must have been a big sweep lately on raccoons, possums, and squirrels…
People living in the ‘glades aren’t close to any supermarkets. I’ve seen men pull their jacked up trucks over to the roadside, pick up and toss the unfortunate critter onto the truck bed. I think the wildlife are getting smarter: Keeping deep in the cypress swamp lands.
Recently I witnessed an egret cross an intersection on the green light, taking his time, then scooted into the landscaping near my frequented bookstore.
So now, scattered on the sofa, are several Holiday magazines with tantalizing dishes like Pecan Pork Loin, Roasted Orange-Glazed Game Hens. Hmmm… I sense the piggies are starting to bolt…
Before I write today's blog, I want to give accolades to my bedside nurses at Naples Day Surgery: To Lyn and to the “Jennifers” who were wonderful to me. You ladies put a big smile on my face. Hugs to all of you. And to Dr. George Corrent of Bascom Palmer Eye Institute in Naples, FL: You were the best in every way. Thanks, everyone.
* Elastic waist bands belong on underwear. Shoot me if I'm ever wearing polyester with elastic.
* Floaters: Everyone has them. Right now, I have a fly buzzing in my eye. Where’s my eye-swatter?
* Strands of my hair can be found everywhere. Thank goodness I have enough still left on my head. Birds in the neighborhood love me... * My bedroom slippers look like they’ve been occupied by a family of raccoons…
* Have cheese? Nah--give me cheesecake.
* Drive-thru banks should supersize my withdrawal…
* Ads at the movie: If I wanted to watch them, I would’ve stayed home and flipped on the TV.
* Uncontrollable emissions: air fresheners are in aisle 3-- there are noise abatement laws, too…
* Ever put a telemarketer on “hold”? Wouldn’t it be great if you had their phone number?
* Tom thinks if something’s not been used for awhile, toss it out…hmmm.
* My lovebird, Daisy, enjoys nibbling on my neck. Pretty thrilling…
* Self-cleaning oven: I haven’t seen mine move a muscle in months…
* Getting an order of chocolate truffles, and the delivery person leaves the box in my sweltering garage…
* Making a chocolate shake from my truffle order…
*Feng Shui works for some people. How do I feng shui bath towels and clothes left sprawled about? It’s kick butt time… * Don’t sweat the small stuff. If you have salt, make Margaritas…
I love the Chicken Soup For The Soul books. I could use some chocolate instead. I’m all chickened out.
I’m looking forward to my Swiss Colony order--free truffles with my order. It’s the only time that I get chocolates from somebody. I sure could have relished the chocolaty goodness yesterday.
I spent the greater part of Thursday fuming in my eye doctor’s office. I’d waited for only 10 minutes and was ushered into the exam room for a quick eye chart exam, given a pressure test, then ushered into a waiting room.
“You’ll be called soon, Nancy” the attendant said. I was hopeful that I’d be out within an hour at the most. I was planning on meeting my gal friend for a coffee afterward.
Two and a half hours later, my name was called--not after the poor souls who were waiting just as long, were conspiring to order up Pizza Hut for all of us. It was 5:45 by the time I’d been called into the office for my pre-op briefing.
I was hanging by a thread at that point, since my healthy lunch at 12:00 consisted of one piece of low sodium turkey, some carrot sticks, an apple, raw sunflower seeds and unsalted peanuts.
I had a raving gleam in my eye by the time I’d been called in. Someone had walked by the room, the smell of a Subway sub drifting under my nose.
We’d all been commenting on the fact the office should have had, at the very least, a plate of cookies--something--for the stranded patients. We’d learned the new girl had overbooked the one surgeon we were all seeing that day. Some patients were booked for the same time. Good Grief!
I know my son is always drilling me about staying on a good diet--no junk food-- but this morning I have thoughts of a guava danish from Whole Foods, if any are left. There’s always chocolate covered cherries, too, that I have stashed away for Christmas…
There is so much emphasis in the media on looking beautiful. There’s a prescription drug encouraging eyelash growth. What happens if it works so well that one’s eyelashes grow too long? I don’t want lashes that look like spider legs…
There’s also a ‘lunch time' lift--one can enter the procedure with a gobbler neck and droopy-dog eyes, and emerge soon afterward with bagless, perky goldfish eyes, the smooth neck of a dove, and $4000 lighter.
Women’s magazines have gorgeous cover models. Vixens. Long and leggy, expertly airbrushed, manicured and skimpily clad, the enticing women look as though they could have successful night jobs.
The cover tempts one to read the dangling carrot articles: How to make him scream for mercy, a turn back the clock’ miracle cream-- in my case I'd read the directions backwards and advance my clock by 10 years; colon cleansing for beauty--don’t accidentally use Drano; Lipo for waist and inner thigh bulges. With my luck I'd have a doctor who flunked out of Witch Doctor’s School.
As for Brazilian waxes--Never in a Million Sasquatch Years! Renee The Ripper can find a more willing victim for her Wax This list of clients. The beach is a perfect target. Run ,men, run!
It’s that time of year when grown men start climbing up ladders propped against their homes, strands of twisted Christmas lights looped around their necks.
I’m sure some wives would love to tighten a few of those light ropes just a bit… It’s a heated competition in the neighborhood to see which home can out-light the other.
One year, we had an idiot family living directly across the street--always in trouble with the law. Their last hurrah before moving away was to string as many lights as humanly possible over the roof of the house, much like Chevy Chase in Christmas Vacation.
The woman’s boyfriend--we called him Joy-Boy, climbed over the roof, draping and stapling thousands of lights across the entire roof. J.B. started stringing at noon and his Gold’s Gym body didn’t finish to well after 1 a.m.
Our bedroom was suddenly lit up like a fireworks factory had exploded. I’m sure the Space Shuttle astronauts could have spotted their home.
It’s amazing how far some of the neighbors go to decorate. My neighbor and friend, Jimmie, a short and portly Italian, must have bought every Christmas decoration sold by Walmart. Every part of his home has something.
The blow up figures are the funniest since many of them semi deflate, so that half of the character’s body is upright with the top half hanging over to the ground. Probably how a lot of people will feel after the holidays…
So, the first section of our street has inflated Nativity scenes, inflated Frosty’s, golden reindeer, and Santa sleighs, along with luminarias bordering the driveways. Quite a pretty spectacle.
From my home a few houses up, it’s dark--no Grinches here, just people who realize ya gotta unstaple, un-tangle, deflate, climb around like a roof rat, and eventually figure out how everything goes back in the boxes the stuff was originally in. Ha!It's a feat that makes the sane go nuts. Good luck all, and to all a good night!
Y-a-w-n…Tom’s snoring kept me awake from 2-4:30 this morning. Nothing I did remedied the snap crackle-- from bed wiggling and gentle nudging, to “Tom, knock of the snoring!”
On the master bathroom window, illuminated by the moon, was a huge tree frog. I was tempted to grab my sticky friend and seal him over Tom’s semi-open mouth.
While Jen was sleeping one night, she awoke screaming. When I rushed into her room, flipping on the light, a frog as big as my fist had plopped onto her face-- nesting right over her nose and mouth. We figure the frog had been stranded on the overhead circulating fan, and decided to hop off.
I finally succumbed to sleep, only to be awakened by Jen and Paul’s 5:00 rustling in the kitchen. My two fly fishermen were getting up to make first light on the Tamiami Trail canals for tarpon.
When I finally got up this morning to make my coffee in a hazy stupor, I had left some of the previous day’s coffee in my thermal drink cup.
I poured the first hot ounces which then spilled over and onto the counter top, the floor and me, soaking my clothing.
The thought of a couple more hours of sleep sounded good about then, but wait-- I have today’s blog already brewing in my froggy head--er, foggy head…
Flip a TV channel and there will undoubtedly be a drug commercial aimed at treating some ailment--from allergies and cholesterol, to smoking cures. Watching them is enough to cause depression. If you have trouble sleeping, there’s a drug which allows blissful sleep--but be careful-- the side affects may put you on Cloud 9: hives; difficulty breathing; swelling of your face, lips, tongue, or throat. The warnings also include that one should not drive or pilot an airplane while taking the drug. No kidding... Erectile dysfunction can be alleviated with a drug, but if it works too well, see your doctor. How does a fella do that? Wear a dress? Another drug for kicking the nicotine habit shows a cheery-faced woman who says she didn’t think she could ever quit the habit.
Side effects of the 'marvelous' drug may include: thoughts of suicide, or the attempts thereof; depression, paranoia, hallucinations, confusion, mania, and dangerous impulses. Good grief! Sounds like a Steven King novel…
I’m lucky to have a drug-free medicine cabinet. Except for the occasional aspirin--now where did I put that bottle? There’s probably a drug for that…
“Hey, Tom! Looks like we need to replace the weather stripping--wha-at is that?" I said as I looked closer at the now open sliding door.
I took the end of the flattened black strip and pulled it out from under the door-- a long, black, slightly crumpled indigo snake. Just the thing to kick start my early morning, with a foggy head, before my coffee.
I quivered as I went outside, depositing the smelly snake in the bushes. I was also thinking of the many times we leave the doors open to get some early morning cool air into our warm house. What are we inviting in that we don’t know about?
When we first moved into our home, I found two scorpions in our bedroom. It’s easy for skinny creatures to creep onto the lanai, with the open grooves in the pool decking leading out from the pool cage enclosure.
I’ve thought of plugging up the outside channels to keep snakes and wolf spiders from creeping onto the decking--nothing like seeing a questionable snake, sunning itself by the pool--or a huge furry spider tucked under the pool coping.
I have some cleaning to do in the house. What’s lurking in the corners?
Watching football all day on Sunday is enough to drive a sane wife nuts. Don't get me wrong-- football can be exciting--with all those 'tight ends' running around...
I was a big 49er fan during the Joe Montana days: Joe and Clark, Craig, Paris, Rice, and Lott kept the excitement in high gear. The Niners final game score often hit the stratosphere. They inspired a big love for the game.
We now watch the Patriots, rooting for Tom Brady--since Jen went to high school with Tom, and shared a class or two.
Yes, there’s little movement coming from the men during Sunday football. Maybe a grunt or two… or an outburst in response to a stupid play.
After several hours of channel-flipping-between games, the remote is barely juiced by the time I want to use it to turn on Desperate Housewives. Shoot! D.S. isn't on.
Instead, I sit plugged into my earphones and portable dvd player, watching a couple of Laverne and Shirley episodes. A few outbursts of my own drew glances from the guys, wondering what I was laughing at.
When football season comes to a screeching halt, what are our men going to do on Sundays? Rosie Greer took up needlepoint. Hmmm…
We’ve had digital cable for a few months now. There must be 200 channels, so why is it so hard to find something to watch?
Some really good movies are televised overnight and during the early morning hours. Tom always says "Why can’t they show this program in the evening?" And how many times is The Shawshank Redemption and Arachnophobia going to be shown?
Tom likes The Military Channel when military aircraft is profiled. Otherwise, it seems like a recycled History Channel.
Just as we get hooked on a newly discovered series, Destination Truth, the series is running the season finale . We’re watching the older D.S. shows On Demand; makes one think about the eyes caught glowing yellow-red in our woods one night…
Ghost Hunters is creepy fun, especially when there's actually something peculiar and eerie caught on film or audio. The TAPS team would have had a field day in our California home…
Spooks and hairy creatures aside, Channel surfing through the Guide is what we all do. It doesn’t take Paul long to settle on UFC. We’ve gone from seeing Anthony Zimmern drinking goat’s blood with Masai, to trailing blood on Randy Couture. I keep a good Chocoholic mystery by Jo Anna Carl on my lap.
I’ve been watching some classic and very funny Netflix Laverne and Shirley; also the quirky series, Arrested Development and Seinfeld on Jetflicks.com on my phone. Give me a good laugh, any time…
My friend, “Mark” recently went through some of his son’s belongings left behind when he moved out of state. Mark needed some advice on shipping box sizes.
There were two large duffel bags filled with bulky items and a few grade F porno flicks stuffed inside of a brown paper bag. The discovery didn’t surprise Mark.
His son had a couple of roommates at the time and Mark figured these movies belonged to them. I’ve never seen or wanted to view a pornographic movie.
When Tom and I went to Copenhagen years ago, we went to a very "popular" section of the city, Vesterbro.
Along the Istergade were buildings with huge windows illuminated with bright colored lighting. Looming above the street, seductive women posed in the colorful windows.
A movie theater announced the showing of Emmanuelle. A number of American tourists were streaming into the theater. In no way was I going to that movie. Tom thought it would be a lark to see a soft porno flick in Copenhagen. Nah-uhh, no way Jose...
We continued to walk the street of ill-repute, ogling, with eyes-popped. Store windows displayed devices which looked as though they belonged to the French Inquisition, or Caligula’s House of Joy. Some of the stuff was so wild, I was imagining the instruction manual must be enormous….
I eventually found a huge box for Mark and all his son's stuff. Mark decided to keep some of the items of clothing after all. The shipping would be too costly. As for the brown paper bag, it was no where in sight…
Naples hosted its first International Film Festival. I was sitting in Books-A-Million at Mercato last Thursday when a a group of tall and exceptionally handsome Italian men walked into the café for coffees.
The third thing I noticed about them were their shoes: shiny, black and barely out of Reptile Junction Shoe Emporium.
The well-dressed men slithered past me, slim and model-like--no bulging gym muscles creeping out from their designer shirts.
The air smelled wonderfully fragrant. I haven’t smelled anything that knee-melting and sweat-inducing in a long time. One gorgeous man looked over at me and smiled broadly, his teeth sparkling snow-blinding white.
Wouldn’t it be cool if they were producers or directors and wanted me in a film I daydreamed, missing the sip of my tea, and dribbling tea droplets down my Marshall’s top.
I dabbed and snapped back to reality as the group of men flowed past me one more time, speaking Italian. Snow White smiled, and I smiled back, flashing my Crest Whitestrips teeth.
Tom picked me up a few minutes later. As I slid into the car, a salty-sweat scent filled my nose. That’s my guy…
I know what I’m getting Tom: one of those scented tree hangers for the car. I wonder if they come in Calvin or Ralph Lauren scents? Ahhh.
It’s that time of year again when craziness descends in the form of two-legged, pushing and shoving humanoids, who have just squeezed into the last known mall parking space on the face of the earth.
Beam me up! Now, please, before the multitude of swarming, caffeinated creatures, embodied with special sale radar and nudging elbows suck me into their hive of madness.
Buy 1 and get 1 at 110% off!! Huh…? Swarm, buzz…
The head-wrapped kiosk man with Omar Sharif eyes is demonstrating an amazing flying toy, acrobatically diving and swooping. Omar zeroes in on me since I foolishly looked over at him.
“No, no thanks,“ I reply. He’s swooping the toy back and forth. “Okay, only if it can fly me up and away from here!” “You crazy lady, go away--no come back.” Another Seinfeld moment. My Kodak moments are getting slimmer and slimmer...
I’m trying to find a wedge of space to see what’s on a sale rack of clothes. Ladies with vulture sized handbags are flinging and shoving coat hangers of polyester and silk… I’m suddenly thinking of a nice hot cup of vanilla caramel tea within the comfort of my four walls.
I slink and dodge the invading masses of female flesh navigating down the aisles, some of whom are wearing athletic shoes;others are perched precariously in stilettos. I find the exit door, and finally, my car.
Home never looked so good as I seat myself at the computer, sipping my tea. Online shopping is great: I find some used, almost new books on Amazon for a penny.
I continue to weave my way through the World Wide Web, until I hit the Black Widow of Cyberspace: the servers are down--please try again later.
Medical dramas give a false impression of doctors. I’ve never had a doctor that even closely resembled the handsome hunks in the TV series.
Jen worked in a local hospital where there was one particular doctor that every female office worker swooned over, keeping his picture planted on their desks. His profile was used in the hospital’s advertising. That man was born under a blanket of lucky stars, and then some…
My doctor resembles a cross between Don Knotts and Boris Karloff. Just once, I wish the doctor would match up with the cute name my fingers had so carefully picked out in the Yellow Pages.
My present doctor also reminds me of an old Italian nun I had in the eighth grade. When I first saw Sr. Christine, I was scared. She had dark searing eyes with a stone-like face.
Yes, just once let me pick out a doctor that will curl the edges of my paper gown--and my toes-- and whose needle won’t look like a harpoon…
I hate standard time. The morning light jars me awake around 5:30, which might be okay if I was 12 and had a paper route …
So, trying to fall asleep again is like trying to teach an alligator to roll over. The birds are awake early, chirping full trottle, and the pool pump next door is droning a few feet from our bedroom window.
Give me back my enjoyable evening light, when I could sit at the dining room table during dinner and look out at the woods, illuminated with the glowing colors of the setting sun: Trees fringed with lavender and gold...
Now, while I cook dinner, the windows are dark, and my eyes are getting droopy. It feels like 10:00. Looking ahead to six months of progressing darkness puts me in hibernation mode… zzzz
Put a glass of wine in front of me,or any alcoholic drink, and the vaporswill get me giddy. Alcohol is a foreign substance to my bloodstream. Only occasionally will I even have a beer. Something happens after one glass:I start giggling over the slightest things. You’d think that an Irish gal would tolerate alcohol better than I do.
Jen and I went out recently to Uno Chicago Grill for Happy Hour--which, in my case, is an understatement.
No sooner had I taken a few sips of my Bud, that I began giggling. Tears down my face hysterics. Jen began laughing too, since it’s contagious. Thank goodness, my outburst onlylasted a couple of minutes.
Once, Jen and I went to a members reception and art exhibition at the von Liebig Art Center. I’d already enjoyed half a glass of Cavit Grigio.
We stepped up to a piece on exhibit: a woodcarving of the male form. Needless to say, I began erupting, and madea comment, ”That’s quite a 'diplodocus'. " Jen was laughing uncontrollably. Unfortunately, the artist was standing next to us… Believe me, the statue was disproportional.
Tonight, I’m exhibiting a photograph, Aspen Glow, in a juried show, the 48th Founder’s Exhibition at the von Liebig.
There will be tables of food, wine and entertainment. I’ll definitely eat something before I have any wine. I sure hope I don’t run into Diplodocus II...