Nancy's World:Thoughts Along The Gulf

Turkey Talk

2010-11-25T08:54:00.012-05:00

Thanksgiving is a time to be truly thankful
for family--and many things--particularly
for not being a turkey!

My daughter took one look at the turkey in
the refrigerator and said “It’s a little small, isn’t it?”
Anything larger than 10 lbs. and I’d need to
throw out an entire shelf of food.
I’m stacking butter and dip, jams and mango
salsa as it is…

I was informed that most people eat
Thanksgiving dinner around 1:00.
The pilgrims in my family began cooking
the turkey around 4:00 p.m.
I think my ancestors came over on a
different vessel--later in the day, too.

I’m a descendant of Zachary Taylor, the 12th
President. I’m not sure what time he had
his Thanksgiving dinner…he looked well fed though.
Back to turkey day...

I’m definitely thankful that I’m walking
without my leg cast.
My family is the joy of my life,
And I’m blessed with friends--both near and far.
I’m thankful for all my readers in cyberspace, too.

Last of all, I hope our resident ducks, Cruiser
and Whitey will come around soon.
They’ve been missing since Sept., no doubt
living it up in warmer climes.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving--
and to those who don’t celebrate the holiday,
have a great day!

Gobble…

Step Into My Web...

2010-10-31T09:18:00.027-04:00

Hello, my dearies!
Welcome to the Witchin’ Kitchen where I
will brew up tales of Hollow’s Night of Yore.

Many harvest moons ago, there lived a
family of four in the beach city of
Santa Monica, where the foghorn bellowed
and the dense fog swirled in ghostly waves,
bathing the city in an eerie glow.

Halloween was spooky in our neighborhood.
Houses all stacked like dominoes lined the
unlit street, with narrow passageways
between the houses.

I was convinced a witch lived in one of the
houses along the walkway. Her pointy nose and
glaring eyes always peered through the parted
lace curtains at the window anytime I walked by.

Mom loved Halloween.
She wore her huge black witch’s hat, and tied
a sheet around her.
Raisins dotted her face like old, gnarled warts.

Michael was a pirate and I, a witch--what else?
I’m not sure if my Halloween bucket got pirated
and pillaged by Michael as I stealthily tried to
hide my treats.

Years later, we were living in the hot San
Fernando Valley where thoughts of Halloween
were brewing yet again.
We decorated the house with ‘pumpkin tumbleweeds’.
Mom had her warty, powdered face and dad had a
few surprises of his own.

When the grandkids came over Halloween night,
he told them to go to the closet...
Suddenly, the kids were screaming--dad had
his prosthetic leg propped up in the corner with
an old shoe attached.
That always gave dad a laugh.

As I later had my own family, I strung cobwebs,
hung skeletons and spiders, stuck a candle in a
cow’s skull, and played spooky howling tapes from
the upstairs window that could be heard outdoors.
Needless to say, there were few kids coming to the door!

It’s that time of year again, in another town where
we have Halloween parades up the street of our
gated community, and a few kids will come to claim
their treats. I have an overfilled pot of candy waiting--
and maybe, a trick or two…

I'm in Love With You...

2010-10-21T08:58:00.006-04:00

After 38 years of marriage I've learned
a few things, particularly ways not to make
a husband gag:

* Don't stuff yourself into a bikini meant for Twiggy.

* Don't pierce anything other than your ear lobes--
and a nice juicy steak!

* Don't wear mini-skirts if you're not a 'mini'.

* Don't wear ankle bracelets that look as though
you're under house arrest.

* Don't wear midriff shirts that float over
The Island of Flab.

* If your 'skin' doesn't 'fit' you like it did
when you were first married, ban yourself
from those drive-thrus!

* Avoid or don't over do Botox-ing and facelifting--
he didn't marry a manikin.

* Too much sun equals skin like a dromedary--
only camels belong outside that much.

* Keep a sense of humor--it can throw your
husband off-balance when he wants to start complaining...

* Don't 'show' too much--'cracks' are for sidewalks!

*Treat yourself and life like a fine wine--
let it age naturally.

To my husband, Tom: Happy Anniversary,
with many more to come.

I'll love you "'til the 12th of Never..."

Whine And Dine...

2010-09-27T18:10:00.017-04:00

"Doctor, can you help me?"
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Writer's Block. I can't seem to get my funny on."
"Ahh, yes, that could be a problem."
"Ok...so what can I do about my writing drought?"
"I don't know--can't think of a thing."
Big help...

I need an elixir of Rodney Dangerfield, with a double
shot of Woody Allen and Carl Hiaasen--something
I can't get at Blue Martini!
Some people are dripping with humorous anecdotes
and one-liners, with little effort, it seems.

I could make fun of myself, I suppose.
Tom's been calling me peg-leg.
I've become glued to my sofa lately--not by choice.
I fractured my ankle recently.

I'd rather be outside in the pool, enjoying the
hot Florida sun, or on the Las Vegas trip we
had to cancel this week.

So, I've been following orders to stay off my feet.
I'm getting into the Cleopatra routine: Enjoying
being waited on hand and foot--pardon the pun.
More fruit, maybe a sweet tea, please.

I haven't been through a drive-thru in a long time.
Maybe I'll get Jen to take me this week--though,
with the luck that's been hitting me over the last
few months, I'd probably wind up with an 'unhappy' meal!
But I digress.

With a collective heave I hoist myself from the sofa,
clogging my way to the kitchen to grab the Dustbuster.
Cleo left her cookie crumbs between the cushions--
which has taken on the shape of her bum...

Brain Warp--Rebooting...

2010-09-10T08:31:00.024-04:00

I've been sucked into creative quicksand.
Sitting on the sofa, glancing out to the back
yard, I'm waiting for an instant spark of
something funny to tickle the dormant folds
of my usually witty brain.

This on and off period of writing has been the
longest bout of writer's constipation I've ever
experienced. It hasn't helped that I'd been
sidelined by a 'locked' back, and most recently
by an injured ankle--thanks to a misplaced tool box.

I've been watching The Weather Channel, and
all of the whirling dervish spin-offs dancing off
Africa.

Most seasoned Florida residents have
grown accustomed to the over-hype--the
prognostications of the weather men who can't
wait for a tropical storm to hit the coast so they
can valiantly smack-dab themselves right in the
middle of the event...

Every year the hurricane predictors say we're in
for an extremely active season. I just took stock
of my hurricane closet: 2 cases of Sam's water,
some cans of soup, paper plates and cups and
plastic ware,dry foods, as well as 2 propane
camp stoves and enough propane canisters.

I also have 3 loaves of duck bread-- I've had to
stock up since Cruiser is bringing her ducky friends
to the house. If you are a new reader of my blog,
Cruiser is a sweet Muscovy duck who chose our
house to visit everyday.

She's been cruising around the yard from the
lake for over a year. Only recently, Cruiser's
brought along Whitey--and occasionally, another
duck we've not named yet. They are both bread fiends...

Out back there's a swale, a flooded river running
along the width of grass. A couple of weeks ago
we spotted catfish spiraling out from the ground
beneath the water, swimming quickly, then 'walking'
into the woods, like something out of a Stephen King novel.

So, here I am, molting, waiting for a simmering
idea to boil over, watching tiny lizards and a frog
scoot close to the pool's edge...

There's a water bowl outside for the ducks.
There was an Indigo snake coiled over the
bowl a few weeks ago, sipping away...

Oh, I see two bobbing heads coming around the
side of the lanai enclosure, like clockwork.
Whitey and Cruiser are peeking over at me between
the plants...
Gotta go feed them...call of the wild!

Clear The Roads...!

2010-08-01T12:17:00.020-04:00

Capt. Tom, thinking did Nan kill the VW?

Tom, with the new car after the

VW died a stick-shift death!

Our VW rib-tickler!

If ya don't like my driving, stay off the road
could've been my slogan when I was learning to drive.
Unlike most people who were driving at 16, I was 27--
bulging with expectant parenthood.

Not only was it a tight squeeze, between me and the
steering wheel, I was cursed with learning on a
stick-shift in my husband's original VW Bug.

While my daughter was busy kicking me in the ribs,
I was ready to stick the shifter! Frustrated that I wasn't
sequencing that well with the clutch, brake, gas and stick,
I'd decided that childbirth would be a hiccup compared to
learning to drive that antique.

Tom was an airline captain and I was expecting that he
was going to call ahead for special clearance--that an
erratically driving female was loose on the road.

I'd managed to run over a row of rosebushes, cut the
turn on the corner, causing a flabbergasted pedestrian
to jump back a few feet.

Finally, after many driving lessons, I was ready to get
my license. Lucky for the man testing my driving ills--
I mean skills--he passed me, out of sheer self-preservation.
I guess hormonally-challenged females, this close to poppin',
was something he didn't want to face--again.

It's a lucky thing I never became an airline pilot...

Just Beachy...

2010-07-20T15:12:00.019-04:00

Reptilius Wrinkilum, characterized by and resembling
shed snake skin, is an affliction shared by those
humans who don't look like pancake batter.

Add a little unwanted 'real estate' and behold--it's
a sight: Rippled layers of varnished, lizard-like skin
that appears to have been squashed by a Goodyear tire,
then stretched past the known capacity of nylon and spandex.
In other words, miles of beach-tanned, bikini-ed and
Speedo-ed torsos, frolicking back and forth under the
tropical Florida sun.

The men are a 'whisper' away from centerfold exposure.
The ladies prance along with dimpled, 'thonged' behinds--
looks like a Silly Putty convention...

I wore a swimsuit once, more of a flotation device--that,
when I began swimming, would billow out--much like
the inner tube I used to float on as a kid--drifting between
the pilings of the Santa Monica Pier...

Rising from the bathtub-warm waters of the Gulf, I
looked like a beached whale. Suddenly all the water
dumped out from my swimsuit--along with a slithery
Ramora I called Ramon--since it had clung to my ribcage
the entire time.

So now, bikini clad, I notice that I'm not far from being
in the select classification of Reptilius Wrinkilum--as I
enjoy the tropical outdoors. I'm also noticing that I need
to work out a little harder, too.
Gosh, that almond cookie was sooo good...
Sonia, I slipped...

Don't Kid Me!

2010-07-15T16:04:00.010-04:00

Kidney beans, kidney pie, kidney stones--
whoa, not on my menu!
I've never had one of those excruciating
episodes and don't intend to.

I think my body is afraid to manufacture stones
since I hold my breath and swallow tablespoons
of raw, unfiltered apple cider vinegar during the day.
Gag me...

My son knows when something vile is crossing
my lips.
Sure isn't a candy bar...
The essence permeates from the kitchen to
where he's sitting a few feet away.

I've taken to a Dr. Weil and Dr. Oz way of good
health, for awhile now, side-stepping the amazing
bakery case at my favorite book store.

It's not always easy when I see a delicious apple
danish grinning back at me.
I figure it's either sacrifice something tasty and
live longer and healthier, or dunk into Donut Hole
Heaven, and eventually have hell to pay-- waddling
around like Cruiser, our resident duck...

I Have a Bone To Pick...

2010-07-07T08:44:00.023-04:00

I'll have one Dino-Chicken with garlic mashed
potatoes, please.
Huh? How is it served up--rolled up to my table on a dolly?

It seems that a dino-chicken may be scientifically
created one day. A recent paleo-archaeologist discovered
a bone sticking out from a massive cliff face--a femur of
a very extinct dinosaur...60 million years old.
That's a lot of birthdays.

The find was so massive that an excavation crew was
brought to the site. The femur was broken into small
workable sections for removal.

Once back to the lab, the specimens were placed under
microscopes. What was discovered was active DNA :
thread-like, stringy blood vessels--and a gooey substance
from the femur's center--marrow.
How could that be?

So, I'm wondering, what will the scientists do with
this discovery? It's a scary thought to think that some
"mad" laboratory scientist could mix up a batch of hybrid dinosaurs.
Shades of a future Jurassic Park...?
Should Disney worry?

Will there be a super-chicken packaged in the poultry case?
Can I look forward to a super-sized roasting chicken,
instead of the paltry selection of scrawny rotisserie chickens
flashing their golden bony legs and flat chests?
One can only dream...

Hang Time...

2010-06-30T09:13:00.017-04:00

With cell in hand, I enter the number.
Press 1 for English.
There’s something wrong with that.

The voice lists the menu options: longer than Pinocchio’s nose.
I try to remember what options 2,3, and 4 were.
I’m sorry, but all customer service representatives are busy.
The average wait time is 8 minutes. Please hold...
Hmmmm.

Let’s see…in 8 minutes, I can pour another cup of tea,
polish my nails, knock down spider-sack webs from the
pool enclosure, or go online to order Poisonous Snake insurance.
No, not really, though it’s not a bad idea…

Hanging up after 7.5 minutes of listening to bellowing
recorded music that rivaled the mating call of a wild yak,
I decided that I just saved myself $15.00.

Making the rounds around the pool deck to my padded
chaise lounge, I suddenly feel something crawling along my arm.

Looking down, I see a medium-sized black spider, dangling
from a web, orbs glaring at me, its spindly legs dancing along my arm.
Yikes! I whack it off with a paperback book, then step on it.

Maybe I should opt for poisonous spider insurance…

Golden Dreams

2010-06-03T18:43:00.006-04:00

Where have all the years gone, and so quickly?
These thoughts cross my mind every once in awhile,
especially now as I've had my 63rd birthday.
If I could, would I go back to an earlier time, back
to my teen years or my college days?

If I'd had a way of foretelling the future, I may
have done a few things differently, change my
direction a bit, but then again...
If I'd fallen in love at 19 with the handsome Italian
fella living next door, whom I felt was in love with me
at the time , I'd no doubt have a houseful of kids.
But, I might also be divorced—since that was his
status a few years ago, and still might be.

If I'd been more motivated to finish college and
get a degree, I'd be teaching English Comp right now.
When I'd moved to San Francisco in 1970, I was working
at a local store. From the entrance I heard,
“Nancy, what on God's earth are you doing working here?”
My jaw dropped.

It was my former college professor, Jean Wilkinson,
who'd had very high aspirations for me.
She'd kept many of the works I'd written, and thought
I would've pursued a writing career, at the very least.
Presently, I'm still writing: short stories and romantic
poetry,as well as this blog.

If I'd followed my parents to Oregon instead of moving to
the Bay Area, I would've never met my husband, a handsome
airline captain,and had our two children.
Nor would I have had the opportunity to meet Charlton Heston
or Bing Crosby who were customers of mine one day.

We now live in South West Florida, which has changed the
direction of my life. I'm a freelance photographer, living a dream
I've always had--sequestered in the back of my mind.
I'm an artist, too.

Life is often convoluted.
You're never sure what each day is going to bring.
Ah, to be a kid again...?
Not a chance.

Wheely Pat?

2010-05-21T15:31:00.010-04:00

I'm waiting for my phone to ring--the call telling me
that I'm a contestant on "The Wheel".
You know the show--the show where Vanna looks
doomed to wear, at times, the most ridiculously
outlandish evening dresses. Isn't Outlandish a planet?
Nah, but it should be...

I think my luck in receiving a phone call is much
like my luck in hatching an egg!
Paul reminds me that I had a darn good contestant
chance last summer when the traveling wheel was in
Naples for a contestant search.

It was a broiling hot day.
Jen and I approached the area of the search,
Hodges University, sweeping our eyes over the
multitude of hopefuls, and decided that standing in the
hot humid sun, probably for hours, was not that enticing.

So, on most nights, I'm correctly guessing the answer,
usually with only a smattering of letters, sometimes
with only 2 or 3 letters showing.
Tom and Paul usually can't believe how quickly
I can guess. They both think my wallet would be
bulging by now, if I were on the show...

Maybe I'll try out this summer--can I wear my swimsuit?

Gripes, Gotchas--And Then Some...

2010-05-14T09:00:00.013-04:00

PC gremlins are haunting my HP.
The whatzit kind that materializes seemingly,
for no material reason! I’m thinking it could be
one of several reasons: PSU failure, the fan, or
dust bunnies running around inside the case.

The pc freezes while online, goes to a black screen.
No apparent viruses present. The monitor screen will
occasionally display gray and white diagonal lines.
Coming to grips with this annoying problem is turning
my hair grayer and whiter!

Last night on the news, I was very disturbed--
not that I’m not in that present frame of mine
with my pc problems!

Some dingbat official decided that Naples’ Muscovy
ducks should be eliminated. They are being 'humanely'
euthanized. My mouth fell open at the ludicrous suggestion
that these cute “citizens” which roam our lakes and parks,
are nuisances and highly dangerous creatures!
Let me say that there are far more two-footed “dangers”
we should be concerned with, particularly those who
cell-talk and drive.

I’ve never been so aggravated.
Now, I can understand why Cruzer, our neighborhood
Muscovy, has been lying low for a few days.
I sure hope she’s got the “spring fling thing” and hasn't
been captured.

Love is in the air in the bug and bird world.
Luv-bugs are enjoying marathon sessions, mid-air--amazing!
Female birds are playing hard to get--their antics are
quite amusing, and keeps my mind off Cruzer’s absence.

Tom is in a chopping mood. Our poor palm trees out
front have been topped-- glad he didn’t become a barber…
The wasps are building condos in our hot garage.
They’re zeroing in on the holes in the garage doors.

Tom is forever swatting them--he’s been stung
once already. Yes, it’s another hot day in paradise,
and my day is planned around a trip to the Byte Shop
for advice, and a dip in the pool.
I’m not going to think about pests, gremlins, or house cleaning.
Just floating around the pool…

Sentimental Journey...

2010-05-07T08:21:00.027-04:00

Santa Monica Pier

Dad's Rocketdyne pic--2nd on left side, arms folded--
rocket gang!

Thanks for the suit, Ma!

'Headlight' Nan
Apple Valley desert

When my brother visited with me recently
from Arizona, he brought along a folder of
family photographs, many of which I'd
not seen before.

I couldn't believe how funny some
of them were. In many, I had a 'caught in
the headlights' expression on my face.
Michael remarked that I still fell into
the expression when talking about things.
Ha-ha...

We reminisced about our childhood in Santa Monica:
our house on the opposite side of the upper middle-class
neighborhoods, and how that kept so-called friends
from coming over for birthday parties; how I got
swept up in a rip-current when I was about 5-6, and
was saved by a lifeguard; the jelly-fish sting I got
one day; inner-tube wave riding; buying candy cigarettes
at the corner grocery;Mike's funny Messenger bike
and my new one...ouch!

Those were the days of tracking sand back to the
house from the beach, fishing from Santa Monica Pier,
buying Creamsicles from the Good Humor truck, and
catching gross spiders in a glass jar.
We played cowboys and indians--I was always 'arrowed'!
Mike cut my hair when I was 3 and whacked away my blonde hair.

There were times when we really got into it, typical name-
calling. We are like night and day in some ways.
He's a used-to-be brunette, and I'm a platinum blonde.
He loves to read historical books, and I like 'cozies'.

I said goodbye to Michael yesterday as he stepped curbside
at Regional South West Airport. A big hug, some"I love you's",
and he was off.

Yes, Mike's the Moonlight to my Sunshine...

Just Between Us...

2010-04-29T09:26:00.015-04:00

*I’ve been away from my blog because
of lower back trouble, LBT as I call it.
I remain locked--sure that the 'key' has been tossed!
I’m coming back, no matter what, writing my
once a week blog--though sitting in my computer
room chair is a back killer.
I look forward to the M-W-F physical therapy sessions,
which includes the highlight of my day-- electric
stimulation therapy, or TENS, as it's called.
***********

My brother, Michael is visiting me, so we’ve been
having lunch out most days.
We drove down to Olde Naples the other day
and went to Tommy Bahama’s Tropical Café for lunch.
We grabbed the last booth--a large booth across from the
Restrooms doorway.
Figures…

We considered alfresco dining under the thatched
umbrella tables but decided it was too hot for outdoor dining--
though a good place for people watching.

While Mike and I ate, I was watching the parade of
European tourists move through the doorway.
thinking I might spot just one person who might be dragging
just a hint of bathroom tissue along the path, usually firmly
affixed to the heel of a shoe. It’s a common occurrence, and takes
awhile for the person to notice.

Such an event happened to me while returning to my seat
on an airplane, which has been so long ago.
A young man got my attention by pointing behind me:
I’d dragged about 15 feet of tissue behind me, apparently
snagged on my clothing.
Talk about embarrassing moments, but all I could do was laugh…

I’ve been sort of eavesdropping on people’s conversations
during our lunches. It’s been easy since the talker seems
to be talking to everyone within 20 square feet of their own table.

One gal was saying that she was picked up for a date in
a convertible, and she closed her own door quite hard.
Her date said “My, you’re a big girl!”

She was peeved and stewed for several miles on their
way to a social event, her hairstyle slowly unraveling as
was her temper. Upon arrival, she spent several minutes
in the car attempting to smooth many of the stray blonde
strands of tousled hair.

Opening the car door herself, she slammed the door as hard
as she could. The lady’s girlfriends all roared at their
friends’ storytelling. I was nearly done with my
Panera sandwich, nibbling on a pickle and potato chip,
ears alert to further interesting tidbits, when the
ladies parted company and the conversations spilled
through the back doors.

Tomorrow we may be going to Turner River Road.
Not a conversation pit, but is guaranteed to have a squad of
sunning alligators, or is it a gaggle?
No, that’s geese…
If Michael edges up too closely, we may have something to
talk about after all!

By Hook Or By Crook...

2010-04-04T21:09:00.008-04:00

Insert Part A to Part B, intersected at the hypotenuse
of Parts D and C, making sure the tabs are facing inward.
Insert screws X and Y--do not tighten, yet.
At this stage of art table assembly, I’m ready to leap out
the window--even if it’s only a 3 foot drop.

I went on the internet to check on the directions.
I thought, just maybe, some other fumbler is struggling--
or has struggled through the directions--no doubt written
by a crinkled, beady-eyed old goat, beard falling into
his flask of Johnny W, in his 4x4, windowless cubicle.

The comments about the table were glowing:
"Easiest table to put together. had it up in an hour."
"Couldn’t have gone smoother--great table!"

I’ve spent 2 1/2 days earlier this past week attempting
to function like a human and assemble the dang table.
I only disassembled it twice!
“My aching back” has been a royal pain. I’ve been dueling
with an annoying sacroiliac which has kept me away from
sitting in front of my desk top PC for any length of time
to write my blog.

I’ve spent considerable time dreaming of having a
completely organized workspace for my art, photography,
and beading interests. I’d been occupying space in my
walk-in closet with most of my books and art stuff.

As I spent broken hours trying to figure out the
directions of the table--which, it turns out, had an illustration
discrepancy--I was thinking of ways to track down the
“brain” behind his desk--who, I’m sure, was devising new
and more complicated directions for me.
Maybe in 3-D?

So, here I sit in my new, ergonomic desk chair for my
art table--tapping out my blog on my portable
word processor. No, I don’t have a laptop…
My slightly lowered rib-tickler level needs a Mento
thrown into the mix. I’m hoping for an eruption of humor,
even a spit wad of something funny.

The small corner of the bedroom is finally complete with
all of my supplies neatly tucked into drawers, and my table,
waiting for me to finally sit down awhile to create.

Meanwhile, a letter is waiting to be sent to the mad illustrator
and text writer of my wonderful table.
I’m almost sure he has a stack under his nose by now…

I

Invasion!

2010-03-24T08:11:00.026-04:00

I’m still getting sap out of my hair from the
Christmas tree. Now, if you believe that,
I can probably sell you swampland here
in Florida--might even come with a pet
alligator, or a Burmese Python.

Pythons are open to hunters now.
Thousands of these snakes are winding
through the Everglades--and even a few
have been spotted in populated Florida cities.

I’m not sure what I’d do if I ever saw a python
slithering in my wooded back yard. I might
give it the directions to a couple of homes where
yapping dogs break the peaceful hum of the outdoors.

I don’t like snakes whether harmless, or not.
One hot day a couple of summers ago, an
unidentified, dome-headed snake lay coiled in
the corner of our lanai, by the pool.

I hollered for Tom to remove it.
With a bamboo pole, he managed to drape
the snake--which was flaring out in attack mode--
and flung it out to the woods.
I was hoping for drawn and quartered myself…

I’ve been a few feet from a coral snake, which was
snaking its beautiful body along the pool pump,
just as I was coming around to feed the chlorinator
its weekly biscuits.

I ran 0-30 in a matter of seconds to the
garage for a shovel. By the time I’d made
it back to the same spot, the deadly snake
had winded its way toward the hose in the front yard.

I bashed it a few times, and it defied me,
slithering onto the damp grass. I took the
pointed head of the shovel--by that time, I was
shaking--and jabbed it hard as I could, then
shoveled the 3 foot lump and dropped it onto
a wooded, corner lot.

Passing gardeners gawked in amazement at my
catch of the day. Yes, I’m not a snake fan, nor
a fan of anything creepy that has more legs than I do.

With Spring finally here, and hot summer
days ahead, I’m also on creepy-crawler, fly-by
critter watch. I’m sure invading armies of
subterranean fire and black ants are planning
their “Nancy” invasions in my yard.

Mosquitoes are busily promoting their species
for a juicy attack, along with their co-conspirators,
no-see-ums. I’m waiting…

A Little Bit Of This And That...

2010-03-17T08:24:00.031-04:00

My eyes are growing to the size of golf balls
as I stare at the blank computer screen...

It’s not easy dredging through the cobwebby
recesses of my brain in the early morning hours,
trying to figure out something humorous to write
about for my blog--and to think I was writing my
blog every day for a few months!

My blog friend, Colin, is prolific--his food blog at:
http://wokkingontherun.blogspot.com is colorful
and informative, filled with delicious recipes.
But then, Colin isn’t an antique like me.
His brain is still in diapers…

Speaking of which…

Cruiser, our resident duck, has been bob, bob,
bobbing along the back lanai twice a day.
She brought her white headed baby with her last week.

Cruiser was quite piggish, swiping whatever bread I
was tossing out to her baby. So piggish in fact, that
Cruiser has a case of “beano-itis’.

Yesterday, she waddled beside where I was soaking
up some sun, and emitted what I thought was a foghorn.
She looked over at me, and I thought, don’t you dare
pin that ’blurp’ on me!

Speaking of which…

I live in Naples, Fl, a beautiful, gulf coast town filled
with senior folk, a natural, tropical atmosphere,
early bird dinner and drink specials, assorted cultural
events, and cars that cost as much as pocket change
in an Arab’s wallet.

So, with all the round-the-clock, delectable varieties
of international cuisine and drink, over-indulgence
is often a big problem.

Store aisles are often filled with indescribable ‘blurps’.
“Air fresheners on aisle 6, please.”
I make a quick beeline so as not to get pinned with the
unfortunate scent du jour.

Speaking of which…

I’m thinking about my sinner menu for tonight.
I mean dinner menu! Stir-fry, I think-- right, Colin?
My eyes are now hanging on little springs, flopping
up and down as I continue staring at the blank screen
in front of me, wondering if Dave Barry ever had this problem…?

Duck...!

2010-03-09T08:10:00.014-05:00

I’ve never been very adept at sports.
My tennis serve always looked as though
I was swatting a swarm of flies.

Ping pong was no better.
The last time I played a couple of years ago,
the ball pinged more than it ponged.
The ceiling tiles were hit more often than the paddle.
I nearly lopped the ear off my partner.

Field hockey in high school?
Let’s just say my teammates were lucky that
their heads were still upright…

Basketball?
If it was game legal to shoot into both baskets,
I would have been stellar.
However, I reigned supreme at volleyball.
Being tall helped as I could spike the ball
just over the net.

One recent sport I’ve taken up is billiards.
I still can’t break worth weasel spit, but I’ve
learned enough from pool technique books
to plan a shot--often surprising, Physics defying,
two-pocket shots, jaw-dropping my opponent.

“That shot defied the law of Physics, Minnesota Skinny,”
he’d say. I always felt highly complemented since my
doctorate friend geometrically planned most of his shots.

I think I finally found my niche…
Now if I’d only keep some of the balls from jumping the table…

For You, Jen: Daisy

2010-03-02T07:58:00.022-05:00

Today’s blog is for my daughter, Jen.

It’s amazing how much a pet comes
to mean to us everyday. Someone said yesterday,
“It wasn’t the same as losing a dog.”
Does that make the hurt any less?

As many readers know, I’ve blogged
about Daisy, our lovebird, on numerous occasions.
She died yesterday.

We all had an attachment to her.
Even Daisy’s vet said that she was the most
resilient, sweet bird he’d encountered in a long time.
She always looked like she was smiling.

Jen and Daisy were on the lanai yesterday morning,
probably on ‘Cruiser’ watch. Daisy liked to walk
around the decking by the pool.

She was always honing the edges of her beak
along the textured concrete. Recently we needed
to take the edge off her sharp beak--she could punch
a hole through leather, it was so sharp.

Suddenly, Daisy toppled over into the frigid pool,
wings flapping. Jen quickly grabbed her out,
and spent several minutes trying to revive her,
but the shock was too much for Daisy.
Heartbroken, Jen buried her in the woods.

Daisy was a loving animal. She begged for
and enjoyed her head rubs, and was always nuzzling
our cheeks and necks.

Daisy is missed, but won’t be forgotten…
Turn the sound on high for the spoon clattering!

It's A Purple Bellied Snork...

2010-02-23T09:02:00.008-05:00

Zap that bird!
My left eyeball hasn’t met up with the right
one this morning. I’m droopy-tired, along
with Tom--we were both awakened at the crack
of dawn by a highly energized dove. Even earplugs
barely drowned out the incessant cooing.

I got up, and in my brain-haze, made a strong
carafe of coffee, poured it and quickly knocked
the full thermos over onto the counter.
I swear I heard that dove mocking me…

A couple of years ago, we were plagued by a
highly vocalized bird in the woods that sounded
like an escapee from the Amazon rain forest.

Its repetitious melody echoed throughout the woods
at a ghastly hour for several nights. I never caught
sight of the feathered creature--lucky for it, since I was
envisioning the bird’s spiraling descent from its lofty perch.

Our lovebird, Daisy, has acquired some new screeches
into her repertoire of bird noises. Since her recent surgery.
she’s aggravated by the meds she’s forced to ingest every day.

Daisy’s lucky that we’re so patient with her,
with the woods only yards away…

A Nice Sunday Outing...

2010-02-16T09:12:00.028-05:00

Everything slows down with age, as the saying goes.
Heading out to the Coconut Grove Art Festival Sunday
with Jen drove that saying right into the ground.

Older drivers, many of whom need a booster seat
while driving, were defying the laws of motion,
squeezing themselves tightly between cars. I spent
most of the drive gasping and inventing new cuss words…

Nothing phases Jen at all, driving the Capsule
[what she calls her Tribute] with expert reflexes,
though I was white-knuckled most of the trip, commenting
how glad I was to live on the quieter side
of Florida. If I’d had dentures, they would have flown
out or been swallowed.
I know my eyes socket-popped a few times…

When we finally made the last left turn to the festival,
we picked out Pay and Go parking, only a few blocks away.
Should have been called Pay and Go Broke Parking.
After inserting a credit card, and selecting the time
amount, we waited for the transaction to complete and
print out a parking voucher.

Ha! I think the transaction was routed through Siberia.
Nothing happened.I thought of inserting cash, but couldn’t
find the money slot. Coins Only, Jen told me.
Like people are carrying a wad of quarters…
After trying another parking kiosk across the street,
we finally had our ticket.

The festival was packed.
We walked a few inches at a time along the tented streets,
downwind of Cuban cigar smoke and expensive perfumes.
Craning our necks to see some of the exhibited artists, we
wobbled around leashed gorilla-sized and dust mop-sized
dogs to view the artist displays.

After 4 hours and probably as many walking miles, we
found the car and hopped in and drove off with visions
of Bimini Bread at the Islamorada Fish Company occupying
our hungry thoughts…the streets were light and we made
all the green lights. I supposed drivers had made it to
the Early Bird and Happy Hour specials by then.

Miami is a real experience if one has steel nerves.
I mellowed out, enjoying the beautiful sunset as we
drove from Miami to Bass Pro Shops in Dania, near
Ft. Lauderdale. High rises shimmered pink and gold.

Yes, everything is supposed to slow down with age,
except the time it took for Bimini Bread to reach my hips…
Mmm, good!

Inky-Dinky Do Or Don't....

2010-02-11T20:21:00.015-05:00

I’ve been noticing a lot of “ink” lately.
Colin, dear reader and prolific food
blogger, you didn’t think I’d blog about tats?
Ha!
Everything and everyone is possible
food for my blog--so belly up!

What makes someone entrust their
tender, unmarked skin to a virtual stranger?
The tattooer looks at the tattooee
and sees a desert of unclaimed skin--
soon to be a work of art.

With my luck, the needle would clog
and spit out a series of connect-the-dots.
Anyway, if I saw a needle pointed at me,
I’d scream and run the other way.
Besides, a person needs a good, firm
stretch of skin for the artist’s jabbing.

I’m more like lemon meringue, kind
of soft and fluffy, but I’m working on
it. I hope to be firm as a scone soon…
Colin, see what your food blogs do to me?

Getting back to inking up…
I couldn’t and wouldn’t think of letting
Drago, Bronk, or Helga poke me with a needle.
No way.
I’d have to be wrapped in mummy cloth first…

I just knew something was up when
Jen thought she did a good job of
hiding her impulsive piece of fish art
from me a few years ago--but not for long.
I have the special gift of Knowing...

As time progresses, I hope those tigers,
dragons, fairies and fish won’t mutiny--
collapsing into a valley of sagging, wrinkled
skin--along with fallen arches…
Heh-heh…

Deep Fried

2010-02-09T08:54:00.009-05:00

The humor quadrant of my brain is slightly
exhausted from my last blog:
http://gulfgal-nancysworld.blogspot.com/2010/02/hey-mister-your.html
My brother Michael thought my friend’s wake up
remedy was ‘out in left field’--[something’ sure was]!
Mike feels someone should have jostled the man awake.

Jostle? Wiggle? Hmmm..no way, given the bulk,
height and grumpy ratio of the man.
He ought to be glad I didn’t alert Eye-Witness News…

Speaking of things that sort of pop into one’s
line of sight, I have to say I haven’t received
any error messages, exceptions, or HD failures
for at least a year. I’m talking pc problems here…
What a segue…

Don’t you love getting strange, cryptic messages
across a black or blue screen? An exception at
Oe71312 in doppelgangerWz67x.3oe62has occurred.
No kidding? Is there a fast-ball remedy for it?
[you have to have read the previous blog to get my drift].

Like I know what the heck that message refers to,
or what to do with it. I bet a caveman would
know its meaning…
The origin is not of this planet--I think space aliens
in human form are working in the pc labs…

Too bad there isn’t some device that can warn
you of the kind of day one is going to have:
Cryptic, in-your-face, whatever.
I can always count on one thing, at least: Cruiser,
our stomach-with-a-neck resident duck…

Pardon me, Sir, But Your....

2010-02-05T08:51:00.025-05:00

Excuse me, but your 'apostrophe' is showing.
Oops! How do you confront someone who glaringly, has
something undone--like a crucial button or zipper--
or has a pair of windows-to-the-world shorts on?

Recently I was walking into my favorite bookstore
café in Naples and was suddenly confronted by an
unfortunate display of manly 'goods'…who doesn’t like
hanging out in a cozy café…?

Now, I have nothing against the 'boys' and their
sidekick. They’re perfectly fine if they’re well
behaved--but they have their place--and should
stay there, not wandering around for some fresh air…

If Chief Spread-Eagle had been Fabio or Denzel
I wouldn’t have minded too much--for a little while.
Anyway, the café was beginning to buzz a bit as a couple
more people walked in and took notice of the 'sideshow'.

I suggested to my two bookstore friends, that one of
them should nudge the hulking man awake, and tell
him to close his gap.
Nothing doing. Big chickens..

By now, the female employees were very aware
of the predicament, but were hesitant to approach,
the man, hoping that he might wake up soon.

The sleeping exhibitionist finally was aroused from
his nap, after one of my friends tossed a napkin ball
at the man’s chest, hoping to wake him.

He looked over at my friends, and my friend
pointed down past the man's equator…
After a few adjustments, the spectacle was over.
He hasn’t been seen since…

Who's Knocking...?

2010-02-02T08:05:00.013-05:00

I read an article recently about brand
names being used in blogs. Apparently the
FTC can come after bloggers if any brands
such as Crest, etc, is mentioned.

Yep, as of Dec 1, 2009, new laws went into
effect about so-called endorsements.
The FTC considers any mentioning of
brands by bloggers as possible endorsements
dispensed with company backdoor free samples.
‘Paid’ endorsements must be stated in the blog article.

Ha! I’m looking over my shoulder, and don’t
see any funny men in strange FTC suits with
Yosemite Sam mustaches and Hercule Poirot
comb-overs…yet.

So, if I write that I love my new pair of Dr. Scholl’s
sandals, please don’t come after me--I bought
them at ‘Wally World’--and no--Walmart
doesn’t give me any freebies…

Maybe I shouldn’t mention that Twizzlers
gave my friend heartburn, and needed to take…

Sweet Little Bird...

2010-01-29T14:44:00.022-05:00

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..

Don't Box Me In...!

2010-01-26T07:54:00.011-05:00

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…

Whatever Happened To...?

2010-01-22T08:53:00.009-05:00

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…

The Highway of Everyday...

2010-01-19T09:09:00.016-05:00

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...

Menu Madness...

2010-01-15T07:55:00.009-05:00

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.

So, this morning, I’m wondering what to plan for dinner…
I know! Colin’s Sloppy Joe’s:
http://ifyancancookyoucantoo.blogspot.com/2010/01/sloppy-sloppyokay-joes.html mmmm, good.

Fitness Flapper

2010-01-12T07:54:00.010-05:00

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…

Schedule Change:

2010-01-11T08:08:00.010-05:00

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.

This Is Florida, Right?

2010-01-08T08:41:00.010-05:00

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…

Brrr...

2010-01-06T08:25:00.019-05:00

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…

Happy New Year

2010-01-04T08:52:00.018-05:00

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!

*Having wonderful email and phone conversations
with Sonia http://gutsywriter.blogspot.com,
and my new New York blog friend, Delores, soap maker
extraordinaire http://daisysoapgirl.blogspot.com, and
yakking with Mike and the family.

*Enjoying fellow blogger and amazing cook, Colin Ogg’s
blog : http://ifyancancookyoucantoo.blogspot.com
*With my improved vision, photographing
the beauty around me.

I’m hoping that 2010 will bring jobs to my kids,
good health and happiness to my family and friends,
With enthusiasm and inspiration I wish a
Happy New Year filled with promise and
Joy to you all…

Snort, Snort--Guess Who?!

2009-12-31T18:32:00.012-05:00

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 to grab
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 have Ol’ 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
grabbed the 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!

Pleeze Come Into My La-bor-a-tory...

2009-12-30T07:48:00.012-05:00

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...

"Muteny"

2009-12-28T09:31:00.015-05:00

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!

Don't Foil Me, Matey!

2009-12-23T08:15:00.017-05:00

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!

Roasted What?

2009-12-21T08:01:00.004-05:00

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…

To Naples Day Surgery, and Nancy's List:

2009-12-18T08:30:00.015-05:00

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.

Nancy’s List:

* 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…

Toilet Bowl Blues

2009-12-14T07:46:00.006-05:00

I’ve been analyzing toilets lately.
Sounds weird, I know.
Walmart has quick, super-zap flushers.
Borders have semi-quick, shred-the-paper flushers.
Books-A-Million [BAM] has the best, so far.

Our master bathroom toilet had a fitting
replaced by Steve The Plumber months ago.
Since then, the fill up is noisy and takes
longer than it takes to launch the Space Shuttle.

I hate the obvious--just give me a
discrete, quiet toilet. I bet the TV Caveman
could’ve fixed it--he’s a sensitive type,
instead of Steve, who reminded me of a mob boss.

I never liked the faucet he replaced in
the kitchen: A single, nondescript Delta--
no zip, doesn’t extend long enough.
Dishes are always banging the side of the sink.
I like a little style with function, after all.

So, back to the ambiance of the toilet.
I’m putting my request in for a pot
with a dynamic personality.
Dark eyes, dark hair--
My mind wanders…heh-heh.

Justifiable Chocolate-cide

2009-12-11T08:29:00.011-05:00

"Don't even think about it, mom"!

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…

Come Here, My Lovely...

2009-12-09T08:37:00.015-05:00

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!

Ho-Ho-Ho

2009-12-07T08:22:00.013-05:00

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!

Sticky Business...

2009-12-04T08:31:00.004-05:00

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…

Good for What Ails You...?

2009-11-30T08:27:00.009-05:00

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…

Snaking Around...

2009-11-25T07:36:00.009-05:00

“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?

Sacked...

2009-11-23T08:19:00.008-05:00

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…

Missing: One Duck...

2009-11-20T07:53:00.004-05:00

Cruiser, our resident duck,
has ducked out. MIA--hopefully, not
DOA for someone’s Thanksgiving feast.

Tom swears he saw the errant, feathered,
waddled duck last week perched high upon
a distant neighbor’s roof .
If so, Cruiser’s got the right idea about
staying off the meat platter…

Thinking back to the last time I saw
ducky, I was crouched down to his level--
we were nearly beak to nose.

He stared at me, with his beak slightly
cracked open. Paul held Daisy, our lovebird,
behind the lanai pool screen.
Daisy and Cruiser had became fast friends
over the last few months.

I stood up and handed Cruiser a piece
of whole grain bread--that he snatched too
enthusiastically, along with my finger.

“Ouch,” I yelped, shaking my reddened
finger tip at Cruiser.
Paul was laughing, and Daisy was chirping
her high-pitched screechy chirp.

Yes, that may have been the last straw
for Cruiser.
My finger-wagging that day may have
quacked him out, and sent him along
on his butt-waddling way.

Come back, you straggly, head-tweaky
ol’ duck…we miss you!

What's On Tonight?

2009-11-16T08:20:00.014-05:00

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…

Too Hot To Handle...

2009-11-13T08:35:00.017-05:00

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…

Coffee, Tea, Or...

2009-11-11T08:08:00.014-05:00

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.

Don't Mall Me!

2009-11-09T08:03:00.016-05:00

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.

Scene 1:

Buy 1 and get 1 at 110% off!! Huh…?
Swarm, buzz…

Scene 2:

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...

Scene 3:

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.

Scene 4:

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.

Scene 5:

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.

Bah-humbug…

Ben Casey, Where Are You?

2009-11-06T08:05:00.014-05:00

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…

No Awake Zone...

2009-11-04T08:03:00.008-05:00

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

Gobble This!

2009-11-02T07:49:00.007-05:00

The holidays are fast upon us, and with
that, all the planning--like what should
I fix this Thanksgiving and Christmas?

I have the holiday cooking magazines
filled with pages of gorgeous tables laden
with delicious food.

I always have the best intentions of
baking some of the mouth-watering
confections, or serving something
other than turkey, like a Leg of Lamb,
which is often hard to find in my market.

I could probably get away with
Leg of Bunny or Roasted Armadillo--easy
to find around our neck of the woods.

Speaking of neck, Cruiser hasn’t waddled
into our yard for almost 3 weeks.
Maybe I ruffled its feathers by lessening
its tortilla chip or bread handouts…

Sure miss the fat and feathered old guy--or gal.
Hmm, I wonder…

Bubbling Over...

2009-10-30T08:19:00.026-04:00

Put a glass of wine in front of me, or any
alcoholic drink, and the vapors will 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 only lasted 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 wood carving
of the male form. Needless to say, I began erupting,
and made a 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...

In One Ear ...

2009-10-28T08:17:00.010-04:00

More and more, I see guys wearing
their caps backwards, the bill hanging
down the back of the head.
What’s with that?
The bill of the hat is meant for sun protection.

I also see people running around in the
blazing sunshine with their sunglasses
perched on top of their heads.
Okay…
The next thing I'll see will be hearing
impaired people wearing their hearing
aids in their noses.

As our kids are growing up, we go out of our
way to protect our children.
I always cringed and comforted the kids
when they would get badly skinned knees.

I was waiting to be served at a bookstore café
once when a very nice looking young college
fella stepped up to the counter.
Wedged inside of both earlobes was a black
plug, the size of a wine cork.

I was envisioning the size of the needle
for that piercing. He told me it hurt a lot
at first. No kidding…!
Where did he get that done,
Big Bruno's Piercing Palace?

A pretty young gal was sporting two nose
rings, a lip and tongue piercing, and several
piercings along her outer ear.
Won't she feel dumb when she's 50...
Nose rings--big ouch, but a good place to
hang the car keys.

Paul has a snook swimming up his arm--
a small tattoo he got a few years ago, when
we moved here to Naples, ’snook land’.

Paul said there was some pain.
No way would I go out of my way to pay
someone to stick a needle in me.
Getting my ears pierced years ago
was pain enough.

Jen fell into the trap as well.
It seems to be a very sporty thing with
women to have a pierced navel.

Jen tried hiding the fact with longer t-shirts,
but being the wise mom detective that I am,
the little bulge gave away the ghost.
Busted!
She said I should get one too.
Yeah, when it snows in Florida!

Drip-Dry Brains…

2009-10-26T07:50:00.004-04:00

Either age or Florida’s rain this past
summer has put my brain in a spin
cycle. Mine is tagged: Handle with care, delicate
cycle, cold water. That explains everything:
My brain has shrunk.

It seems like I’m always looking for
something--simultaneously forgetting
where that ‘something’ was placed.
Drives me nuts…

A day doesn’t go by that I’m asking:
“Has anyone seen my phone?”
Definitely the number one thing that I
misplace, or think I do.

I had it clipped to my shorts when I asked
Paul that question a few days ago.
“It’s on your waistband, Mom.”

At times, I’ll be thinking of something
that I need to buy or do--and whoosh--
gone--flown right out of my head.

So, I stand there, glued to the floor,
trying to recount what I was doing that
hopefully, will bring me back to the matter
at hand--or,in my case--brain.

I write stuff down now.
Tom’s called me 'old forgetful' for years.
Funny, I didn’t forget our 37th wedding
anniversary on the 21st ,or my dental
appointment this morning…

Cell Destruction...

2009-10-22T16:08:00.020-04:00

My cell phone has been abducted
by Jen. She made the unwise
mistake of calling her carrier to
check if it was possible to lengthen
the ring tone. Her Smart phone
rings for only 7 seconds.

Who, short of a roadrunner, could
ever answer a phone that quickly?
It takes me that long hunting
for the darn thing, usually buried in
no-man's land--my purse.

One simple question to tech
support was all it took to turn
her phone into a vast wasteland.
A code here and a tweak there done
by a tech support trainee, sent her
phone into Never-land.

Another frustrating, pot-boiling
90 minutes was spent trying to
restore the phone back to its
factory defaults. No such luck...
It would’ve been easier ordering
takeout from China.

After much phone discussion with a
supervisor, Jen's getting a free smart
phone today. She's waiting anxiously
for her HTC Diamond...
so am I.

So, for now, I’m letting her use
my new phone, the myTouch, with
visions of my remaining minutes
rapidly dissolving. I had 236 minutes
left for the next 18 days,now withered
to a paltry 48 minutes, and counting down...

When I run out of minutes, guess
who's going to lend me their phone
for non-Fave calls until Nov. 9th?

Open At Your Own Risk...

2009-10-21T08:23:00.017-04:00

Products that need opening require
the heavy handed strength of a
Sumo wrestler...
The caps and lids never budge,
and the foil or plastic seal under the
cap must have been fused on by NASA.
I’ve invented cuss words trying
to pry up the seals.

Life is hard enough, so why do
companies have to make it so
impossible to use their products to begin with?
Manufacturers must sit around at a
huge table devising new ways to
drive consumers nuts.

Aspirin bottles are annoyingly difficult:
Line up the arrows and pull off.
Sure…
The only thing I usually pull off is
my fingernail--and they’re real!

I tried feverishly to twist off a jar lid
of spaghetti sauce.
I twisted, pried, whacked the lid--
it stayed on like it had been vacuum-
packed by some gigantic air-sucking creature.

This over-tightening, over-sealing is done for
product freshness and safety.
How many times have I tried to rip open a
foil or plastic package, resorting to yanking
the edge open with my teeth?
Teeth are more convenient than scissors...

All products need to come with a warning:
Try to open--we dare ya--at your own risk,
which may include the following side effects:
A broken wrist, fingernails pulled back to the quick,
and a migraine the size of the Moon…
Exactly where I’d like to Pow-Zoom
the cap and lid inventors…

The Wise-Acre Lounge...

2009-10-19T08:28:00.009-04:00

There are a lot of good intentions about health
and other issues that sometimes get sidelined,
or slightly altered from concept to delivery.

For instance:

1- To maintain good health, one should have
plenty of fruits and veggies every day.
Let’s see, I ate part of a water-logged avocado,
some grapes that tasted like a dose of medicine,
and a banana I could have used for a door-stop.

2- Everyone is supposed to drink 8 glasses
of water a day.
Yeah, if you hook up a hose to your waistband,
and put the toilet in the living room…

3- Get 8 hours of sleep every night.
Yeah, sure, after having 8 glasses of water that day…

4- Exercise every day.
My hosiery runs more than I do…
I’ve bought exercise equipment that eventually
just sat unused-- the pieces robotically
fused together into patio furniture.

5- I’ve bought several Chicken Soup For The Soul books.
How about Chocolate Truffles for the Chocolate Deprived?

6- I thought I’d try a veggie burger--it was great
after I loaded it with water-logged avocado, stringy
onion fries, and a spongy tomato.

7 -I’d love to have a guava jelly donut from
Whole Foods--that’s fruit, right?

8- I bought a pair of workout shoes.
I wore them to the fitness room twice-
they didn’t work out that great.

9- I also bought some Dri-Fit workout clothes,
made in the Arab Emirates.
Who’d they test them on, some dried up dromedaries?

10- Abiding by a meatless diet is a good idea…
Until I get the Caveman instinct to swing
a club at a juicy side of beef…

11- Uno Chicago Grill has a new snack menu
to die for: The Short Rib Slider, make that 2,
was delicious.
I followed it up with a huge salad when I got home.

12- I’ve come to the conclusion to kick it
up a notch, do more of the good stuff.
After all, I’m getting older.
When my next birthday rolls around, I’ll take it
as a grain of proverbial salt; stonewall it,
or rim my Mango Margarita glass…