Turkey Talk

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…

Just Beachy...

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...

Drip-Dry Brains…

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…

Bug-B-Gone...

We’ve been fighting a mosquito in the
house for days. The high-pitched buzzing insect
has evaded death several times.
It cleverly hides on the light walls or furniture,
very low or up on the 14’ ceiling.

I won’t use bug spray--hate the smell.
I bet the bugger knows that, too--hence,
why it’s been a cat and mouse game for almost a week.

I thought of wearing a disguise, a la Far Side--
maybe a gigantic bug suit with a huge stinger.
Might scare the toxins--for lack of a better word--
out of the mosquito!

For insects so insignificantly small, they bring
down grown men.
It’s funny to see Tom go after the critter.
Towels swat left and right at the evasive insect.

Well, the battle finally ended last night when
the space invader met Paul’s wrath, after biting
him twice while he was at the computer.
With the swiftness and precise aim of a great mosquito
marksman, he clapped the Biting One--
may it lie squished in peace.

Give Me A Home...

Years ago we went to Yellowstone National Park.
The kids were pretty young.
I dragged along an aluminum photography case,
a Tenba backpack and a tripod.

In the case was a RB-67, a medium-format camera
and 3 lenses. The equipment weighed a ton.
Tom wanted me to leave it at home.
Why carry all that stuff around?

Yellowstone was a real photographer's paradise.
The scenery was awe-inspiring.
I set up my camera at every landscape opportunity.
Herds of buffalo roamed freely. Tourists were standing
next to the them.

Later, after several hours, we headed out of the park.
In the middle of the road we encountered several buffalo.
We waited for a long time, hoping the animals would
move along. Tom thought it was cool, and kept his driver
side window down.

The granddaddy of all buffaloes suddenly appeared
outside the driver's door.
He had his dripping snout poking part way through
the open window.
His eyes were glassy and steam swirled from his nostrils.

By then, I was smacking Tom to get the window up, quick!
The kids were on the floor of the back seat, screaming.
I was shrieking.

Tom pushed the window button and the buffalo budged
a little from the window, as the window went up.
He fumed a plume of bad buffalo breath, and walked off.
That was a little too close to nature for me
One thing may have been missing from my case--
a blow gun...

A Lobster By Any Other Name...

Lobsters.
Mm mm...butter-dipped, succulent warm meat.
When we first moved here to Naples in 2002,
Jen wanted to celebrate our first night by taking
the four of us to a restaurant, which I won't name.

The advertised special was a 1# lobster for 16.00.
We ordered 4. When the plates arrived, we each
looked at the anorexic lobsters sitting on our
huge white plates--kind of like an island with
only one palm tree...
I was thinking, where is it?

I'd never seen a smaller tail in all of my lobster days--
which amounts to three over my lifetime.
I'd seen bigger tails on shrimp.

I wasn't sure how to attack it.
I wasn't even sure if it wasn't just a faux lobster--
one in disguise, or only the skeleton of one-- minus the meat.

We were all so hungry, so I prodded and picked,
and saw some disgusting green and gray muck that
looked like it came from a space creature's guts.
How would I know that...?

We all managed to get no more than a 1/4
cup's worth. Jen was disappointed, but her
intentions were sweet.
I haven't had a lobster since.

Jen's been in town, from Key West.
She and Paul went fishing for a few days in Stuart.
Her fella, Vince, has a bucket of lobsters from lobstering
in the Keys.
The lobsters are calling, so Jen's heading back
to K W this afternoon.

I'm suddenly having visions of warm, sweet,
butter-dripping meat...

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?