Brrr...

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…

Too Hot To Handle...

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…

Camp-Free Zone

We’ve never been camping. Not once.
Tom is the kind of guy
who loves nature and the outdoors.
Me, too.

He’s talked about camping in the Sierras
and in northern Cal.
The reality of spending money on camping equipment,
packing the stuff and setting it up, then repacking
it all changed his thoughts.

The idea of a hot shower and a comfortable bed
is more appealing and a hard notion to give up
in favor of camping.
If you’re really in the boonies there won’t be a
store around for miles.

Seasoned campers know the ropes.
They know how to make a great campfire.
The aroma of hot dogs and beans, or the catch
of the day, drifting through the night air sounds
mouthwatering-- if you ate hot dogs and beans
and lake trout.

Tom likes hummus, kale salads with organic soy
and black beans; plain yogurt, cans of Alaskan
wild caught salmon, pumpernickel bread, almonds,
and hard-boiled eggs; Uncle Sam and Kashi GoLean
cereals, bananas, and California navel oranges.
It’s pretty apparent camp cooking wouldn’t be much
on the ‘to do’ list.

There’s also the prospect of bears sniffing around,
looking for food or a human keepsake--like one’s scalp.
Snakes and spiders could be a problem.
Come to think of it, I have wildlife and reptiles in my own
neighborhood…
Camping sounds like fun, alright.
Who’s up for a chicken stir-fry?

Up, Up And Away...

De-worming the pool is great fun.
After a rainstorm, worms line the pool bottom.
I netted forty-five worms last week.
You can tell my mornings start off with a blast…
It’s a peculiar thing why worms are on the death march.
Don’t they have any sense?
I’ve got to get a life…

Lately, I’ve been going through pictures.
I’ve been thinking about Jen and the great fun
we had on our two Bahamas cruises a few years ago.
The first time I checked out our bathroom,
I wondered how do you flush this thing?
Not only that, but how do you move around in this cabin?

We shared Corona buckets on deck, and
compared notes on our tans.
We frolicked like school girls on the beach,
swinging in beach hammocks.
I haven’t seen Jen for a couple of weeks,
since she’s moved to Key West.

Jen’s been having a grand time.
Her ship has finally arrived.
At least, I sure hope so.
Paul misses Jenny.
They are great friends as well as siblings.
They were fishing pals, too.

We’re expecting tons of rain this week.
I’ve got the worm bucket ready…

It's a Tropical Heatwave...

Floridians, myself included, are spoiled.
When the temperatures dip below 75, hoards of people
run to the stores to buy jackets and sweat shirts and sweat pants.
You would think a blizzard was coming!

For a few days last winter, it was downright chilly--in the low 50's and 60's.
My teeth were chattering while visitors from up north
and the midwest wore walking shorts, tank tops and sandals.
It was a heatwave to them!

Before moving to Florida, we sold many of our cold weather clothes
on Ebay and in garage sales.
No one needs a jacket in Florida--right?
Ha...

Busting Out...

When I was 13, my family moved from Santa Monica
to a new home in the San Fernando Valley.
I still wanted to attend Saint Monica's High School with my friends.
Every morning I commuted with my dad to Santa Monica.
Dad dropped me off at Gran's at 6:00 a.m., where I caught a bus for school.
Gran would be up, waiting for me.
Occasionally, she bestowed little 'pearls' of advice to me:
“Nancy, don't ever dress like a tramp...”

Me?
Dress like a tramp?
How could I?
Roll up my green plaid uniform skirt until my knees were showing?
Every morning we were made to kneel before school began—to make sure our skirts were touching the floor.
Wear makeup?
The nuns made sure all of the girls looked like wallpaper paste.
Makeup was forbidden, though I knew some girls cleverly disguised the fact.

After 2 years, I transferred to a public school in the Valley
for my junior and senior years.
I'd had enough of 5:30 risings.
Gran was really worried then.
I'm sure she thought I was going to hell in a hand basket...

I cut up my uniform with intense joy!
The baggy, white gym shorts were shredded.
Mom bought me a few dresses, blouses and skirts.
I replaced my suede buck shoes with pumps.
I lingered in the cosmetics department of our
drugstore, buying my first tube of lipstick, mascara,
and blush.
I felt emancipated.
I'd peeled back the veneer of years of stringent policies,
revealing my authentic self.

My personality bloomed, all in a good way.
It felt great.

Grandma worried over nothing.
Just look at me now...

Gals Only...

Have you ever wondered, gals, what would happen if your bra didn't live up to its claim?
What about the 24-hour bra? I'm not even awake 18 hours!
Is there a refueling nozzle on it?
If I try to push my bra's life past its limit, all I get are skid marks..
People are living to their 90's and beyond--
my bras don't last more that a few months--a year if I'm lucky.

What about 'water bras'? Do they come with fish?
Are they good flotation devices?
Mine would come with Piranhas or fighting Bettas.

What about the 'miracle' bra?
Young gals don't know if it's a miracle or not.
Everything is pretty much pointing in the right direction, no worries there.

I'm waiting for the bra packed with Helium—
one that will float me away to Bali...

That's Life..

*feet hanging out of car windows
*being invisible:the clerk takes the person behind you
*taking the road less taken and there's no cell coverage
*finding a lounging alligator on the road ahead of you
*coffee that's been dumped on the pavement
*people who leave a shopping cart behind your car or in the parking space
*'diva' pet stores
*pets wearing diamond-studded pet collars
*people who let a sneeze or cough 'fly'
*smile wrinkles that look like excavation sites
*people who publicly embarrass one another
*European bathing suits--the skin variety
*cigarette butts littering the beach
*lit cigarettes tossed out the car window
*people talking during a movie
*overdone face lifts
*6-year life CFL's that blow after a month's time.
*animal walkers who don't scoop the poop
*store clerks who welcome women with "Hi, Guys!"
*people who openly criticize my daughter's slim figure
*funeral preparation brochures addressed to me
*people who don't really listen when your speaking to them
*drivers on cell phones
*washing the car on a day it decides to rain
*double-charged for an item
*people abusing handicapped parking