Many of my neighbors walk small, fluffy dogs tethered at the end of a long leash. We’ve always had a bird.
For readers who don’t know, we have a cute lovebird, Daisy, who is allowed to flit about the screened-in lanai.
She’s adventurous and a little sneaky: Daisy flew from Jen’s shoulder awhile back, outside to the woods.
Flying to the highest pine tree branch, she baked under the Florida sun for at least 3 hours before deciding to fly back to Jen.
Her little escapade injured an area under the wing at the time, and a trip to the vet was her next adventure.
Since Daisy’s flight, things actually were not going well--the little cut in the crease under her wing got wider and deeper.
The drive to the avian vet yesterday was an eye-opener: I’d never seen so many flashy and expensive cars drive by Jen’s ‘capsule’--what she calls her kayak-hauling Mazda Tribute.
We both noticed how many younger people were driving those shiny Ferraris and Lambros. She’s driven her car almost to exhaustion, some 100,00 miles, zigzagging like a patchwork quilt across, up and down the entire state. I think she’s seen every alligator and iguana, too.
Finally arriving, we hoisted Daisy’s condo-style cage from the backseat, and entered All Creatures Animal Hospital. After a few minutes of listening to Daisy’s frantic chirping, we left. Daisy requires stitches to close the muscle-exposing gash under her wing.
This morning, we dropped Daisy off at the vet; she's home now, bandaged and is wearing a transparent cone, which she hates. Little 'tipsy' has fallen asleep, cuddled up in my hand..
One corner of the computer room is boxed in--with a slowly dwindling stack of cardboard boxes and tubes of different lengths.
The smell of fresh cardboard still lingers a bit in the room--I prefer the smell of freshly baked walnut brownies…
Ebay has hooked Jen and Paul--sort of a seasonal virus that hits when the new master fishing catalogs begin stuffing the mailbox.
Questions start spinning my way: ‘“Would you have a box to fit the fly reel?” ‘ Or, ’ “would you have a PVC tube that would be long enough for a 6.5’ rod? “ ’ My print tubes are only 2 feet long…
How about selling a book, or a pair of earrings? With two fishing nuts, tackle gets bought, used a couple of years, then sold to make room for the newer, flashier and more technical equipment. Paul now has Abel reels with fish scale motifs painted on them…
Wouldn’t it be easier to get a pet hamster or some mice? No hassles, they take up little room, don’t have to be hosed off, and they’re pretty crafty-- when they want to run off, they don’t require postage-- they can just pop the cage door open…
Calling all geeks, braniacs, hulks, and ex-cheerleaders! Canoga Park High School’s class of ‘65 is kicking the 45th reunion into high gear this year.
I won’t be there. My geeky senior picture won’t surface into the ‘ha-ha, you looked funny’ zone. It was taken early in my junior year, unfortunately. I was totally different by the time I graduated. Unfair!
Reunions are no doubt a blast from the past. I wouldn’t know--I’ve never crossed into the Time Machine and gone to even one of them.
I imagine the event will be filled with sideline glances, assessments and offside remarks: ‘Good grief, what happened to her'? 'Bill was such a hunk…’
Amid memories of starched, skyscraper hairdos, ex-tarts fired up with post-hickey-Monday- morning locker room stories, who ran off with whose wife or husband, and who made it to the silver screen: Mike Larrain [Rosemary’s Baby] and Barry Cutler [Dynasty], conversations will be peppered with fond memories.
I have fond, coming-into-my-own memories of my senior year: Columnist on The Hunter’s Call, Steering Committee member, editor of Horizons, our literary chapbook, Writer’s Club president, co-coordinator of Journalism Day, and off-key member of the Folk Singing Club. Those were the days…
Coming back from the Publix market to the car, some inconsiderate shopper left their shopping cart smack against the driver side door. There oughta be a law…
You have to be sixteen to drive, and I think operators of shopping carts should be forty-- but wait, it was probably a forty-something that so kindly dumped the cart by the side door.
Parking lots are dangerous. They’re a veritable battle ground of squeeze-bys, zippers and slow pokers.
The squeeze-bys see that I’m already 80% pulled out from my space. Then some SUV behemoth or a looming, jacked up truck, just barely clears the back end of my car. Maybe the toadstool car, the Smart Car, can get away with doing that…
Then you have the zippers: Cars that fly around the corners of the lot aisles like locusts, just as I’m pulling out--and the driver swarms around me, honking! I feel like shoving a banana up their tailpipe…
The slow pokers are those who think they’re driving in a 1-mile-an-hour zone, or on some desolate road in the middle of nowhere. Some of these drivers are yakking on cell phones, while others just plod along …
I’ve seen gopher tortoises crossing the street faster than these drivers drive! Understandable if the lot is crowded, but once these drivers leave the lot for the streets, their car barely hiccups along at 20 mph, which can be a dangerous thing.
I know what you’re thinking--when I’m 80, I’ll be one“them”, scooting along the Geriatric Highway. I’ll wear my little pink hat, have rosy cheeks, and be taking Mahjong lessons...you're right! Bam me…
By the time I drive the 2 miles back home, I’m ready for a cup of tea. ..and maybe, a Twilight Zone episode...
It’s getting harder and harder to figure out something different to cook for dinner. I have volumes of cookbooks--too many, having worked at Border’s bookstore a few years ago.
My meal wheel has been rotating around a handful of dishes: Spaghetti with Publix meatballs [I used to make them], roasted pork loin with pecans, my version of California Pizza Kitchen’s barbecued chicken pizza, fish, pot roast and meatloaf. These dishes are good for the wintry evenings we’ve been having.
When it begins warming up again, and especially during the humid, hot summer months, I'll keep the oven off, and the menu gets paired down to lighter fare, like stir fries, and chicken with Sweet Baby Ray’s Original BBQ Sauce that I can cook in the small convection oven.
I was thinking who I’d want to be marooned with on a desert island. I choose Colin Ogg, recipe diviner. I’m sure he’d make something interesting and unusual given his clever cooking ability.
I threw out the last of the holiday eggnog. Sad. I really enjoy the few weeks from Thanksgiving to New Year's when eggnog is almost flying off the shelves--luckily, a few flew to my house.
Now, I have to admit, I can see a little bit of “eggnog” thighs… I wasn’t able to exercise to the extent I’ve wanted to--one excuse being, my eye surgeon wanted me to take it easy for awhile.
Well, the ‘awhile’ has passed, and I’m forcing myself to our clubhouse fitness room. I can't stick my head in the sand any longer...
It’s tough to get rolling--it’s easier to stay home and roll out pie dough! But, after assessing the slight under arm droop too, I’m hauling butt over to the fitness room, despite the frigid cold walk.
The machines I like to use are open, waiting for me to decide which weight level to choose. Let’s see…how about a 20# ? Naw... I slide the selector into the 40# slot to start. But wait--I have to warm up!
So, I’m rotating my arms like airplane props, just as a hulking Hulk walks in--and just about gets popped by my twirling arms. It’s him or me, so I eyeball him, slowly blocking his way, moving backward, then do a quick launch to my favorite machine.
After a few minutes of several reps, I leave it to go use the butterfly machine, which he has set to almost 200#’s. Good grief! And I had the nerve, the sheer audacity, to look into his steel gray eyes, short of intimidation?
I adjust the weight level to 40#’s, and finish after 5 sets . My arms are burning. I figure in a couple of weeks, I’ll have my arms and legs back in shape.
Cruiser, our resident duck, has been getting more exercise than me, doing her laps around the house, hoping that someone will take notice, grab the bread, and toss her a few crumpled pieces.
The other day Cruiser flew up to the computer room window, flapping for Paul’s attention. I wonder if flapping my arms will work, and someone will toss me a powdered donut…
Hi everyone! I've decided to write my blog on Tuesdays and Fridays. Mondays are slow wake up days for me...yawnnnn... I've needed the extra time just to thaw my brain out from all the chilly days we've had here in Florida.
It was 31 last night--even our resident duck, Cruiser was walking funny today! I know, the temps are far worse elsewhere, but we Floridians have thin blood--and are also spoiled from the usually warm, year-round temps.
So, please continue to read and follow me. I hope you enjoy and comment on my blog.
Florida’s unseasonably cold weather is causing pest problems for some people. Ants are taking the high road into warmer confines, sneaking their spindly legs under and through the smallest cracks and openings, making themselves at home in kitchens and baths.
Lucky for us--and them--we haven’t seen the little trespassers. I double-dosed the house perimeter with “Don’t You Dare, Bug Spray”… don’t try to find it in the stores--if you do, call the head doc, quick…!
I imagine the underground squadrons are re-grouping for a Spring and Summer assault in our yard. I’m ready for you buggers…
Thankfully, the icy cold has killed off some of the mosquitoes and no-see-ums which plague us through most of the year. Short-lived, I’m sure, since we’ll no doubt have the munchers back in full nosh soon…
Rule of thumb and leg: Cover up, particularly during the warm months! My son, Paul is sporting bite “tattoos” on his ankles and legs from no-see-ums.
Our resident duck, Cruiser has been squirreling herself in pine needle mulch to keep warm. She usually waddles into the yard with grass and mulch hanging from her face and beak. What a sight…
Swatting the bugs aside, the Gulf is 52 unwelcoming degrees, sending pods of manatees to warmer Gulf waters surrounding the electric utility plants.
Visitors are disappointed with the weather and lack of swimming, but are enjoying the frolicking, friendly animals. A popular viewing spot is Manatee Park in Estero.
Watch out--it's raining iguanas! They’re so cold that their frozen bodies go into a hibernation state, causing them to plop to the ground. The kamikaze iguanas appear to be dead, and are often being removed by individuals who suddenly discover the creatures springing back to life in their vehicles.
Summer can't come soon enough for me. My coffee pot awaits, the aroma drifting under my sniffly nose. I’m still in my flannel pj's, on morning watch for ol’ mulch face…
Welcome snowbirds to frigid Florida! Left the sweaters and coats home, eh? While in the clothing store I watch our northern neighbors frantically searching for sweaters and sweats--anything to keep them warm.
When we moved here to Naples in 2002, we didn’t bring anything that would keep us warm. Who’d think that Florida would get so cold? But we were fooled, too, and tried desperately to find sweats--anything-- that would warm us up a notch. Zip!
So, like our visitors, we endured the cold weather for a few days--but these current temps are hedging into two weeks! I miss wearing my shorts and sandals.
I spoke to my Brooklyn friend, Delores recently, before our cold snap. She was freezing in 23 degree temps and thinking of our 80 degree weather I was presently enjoying.
Yep, Old Man Winter is throwing Florida some pretty chill Arctic air, breaking records, dipping into the low, frosty 30’s overnight. The gulf waters are empty of swimmers, except for 300# loggerheads coming back ashore.
We turn the oven on these mornings to warm the house up. Daisy, our lovebird, thaws her icy stick feet by the oven. When I was a kid living in the foggy beach city of Santa Monica, CA., mom would put my school uniform on the oven door to warm it up. Felt so good…
Cruiser, our resident Muscovy duck, waddled quickly up the sidewalk after spotting me driving back into the driveway yesterday--she knows the car since she’s left her “calling card “ enough times beneath it.
After a few pats on her back, I threw her a few bites of cinnamon bread. I’m a soft touch…
With a north wind blowing today, as usual these past few days, I’m snatching a thick fleecy jacket from Jen’s closet, since she’s away for a few days. Feels so good as I slip it on, but with two other layers, I feel like the little kid in Christmas Story. Daisy’s picked her snuggling spot on my shoulder…
Please Mr. Weather Man, tell us that our warm days are returning soon…
Christmas came and went quickly. From gift giving--Jen received pink golf clubs and a pink bowling ball -- Capt.Paul, new fishing gear--a new decade rolled out on the heels of T.W’s 16 over par scandal… Happy 2010! Or is it Two thousand and ten? That’s the debate right now, as absurd as it is. I’m not resolving to do anything, since resolutions are easily broken.
I have a lot to look forward to in 2010:
*My brother Mike’s visit--watch the alligators, bro!
*The upcoming Wildlife and Wildlands Art Show at Delnor-Wiggins State Park-- I’ll probably freeze my keester off. This is Florida, right?
*My Cali friend, Sonia coming to visit, maybe moving here: Champagne for sure, Sonia!