Whine And Dine...

"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...

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...

Golden Dreams

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.

Happy New Year

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…

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.

Floridians...

*Think of keys as islands.

*Are choosy about which shells to collect.

*Don't mistake dolphins for sharks.

*Don't mistake Roseate Spoonbills for Flamingos.

*Know the difference between buffets and Buffett.

*Eat early to enjoy the sunsets.

*Know the best seafood restaurants.

*Love grits, mangoes and guavas.

*Have great rum recipes for coconut shrimp.

*Have a cupboard stocked with food, water and candles.

*Have battery operated portable televisions.

*Don't have fences around their homes.

*Eat fresh Gulf shrimp.

*Have hurricane parties.

*Get the frizzies.

*Must know the difference between a King Snake and a Coral snake.

*Complain when the temperature dips to 70.

*Know that Persian Limes make the best Key Lime Pie.

*Carry sunscreen at all times.

*Know how to keep a beach umbrella from taking flight.

*Take cover during a lightning storm.

*Have purse-sized dogs.

*Recognize tourists from their lobster-red sunburns.

Humming Along...

I'm always curious about what people
have to talk about all the time on their cell phones.
Everywhere you look, people are plugged
into animated conversations.

Following behind me today was a monstrous
midnight black Hummer.
It looked like it was on steroids, or ran
on something other than gasoline.

It towered behind my timid Camry like Godzilla.
I thought at any moment I'd be swallowed up.
The young lady driving was petite--her head
was barely visible behind the wheel.
I was thinking, this gal needs a booster seat, or
a baby bottle.

Her phone was firmly attached to her ear,
and she seemed totally captivated by the conversation.
Maybe there's a shoe sale at Nordstrom...
Her hand gesturing led me to
think how is she driving that thing?

The Black Shadow maneuvered in and out of lanes
of traffic with ease, but much to the unease
of other drivers. This is senior citizen territory.
I figured she was going 60 in a 45 zone.

She zoomed through the tail end of a yellow light,
and then the familiar wail of a state trooper caught
up with her.
Despite her ticket, the trooper was cute.

Encore

The beach is tranquil.
The gentle lapping of the waves curling up along the
shoreline, the sea birds chasing the shiny minnows,
elevates me to a calm place in my thoughts.

The soft breezes float salty sea air while I walk
on the damp sand. Shells tumble and swirl onto the shore,
gathering up into mounds, waiting for seeking fingers.
Criss-crossed footprints run along the path I'm taking.
Some are large, others are tiny.
How many of those are first time visitors to this beach...
how many will be coming back?
I don't see some of the older regulars any more...

The sea is ever changing as the day lengthens
into early evening.
The glistening blue water of the Gulf deepens
with fringes of violet and gold, reflecting
the setting sun, today's finale.
As I leave the beach I know new treasures
await tomorrow's encore.

Clouds To Rainbows...

Quit while you're ahead.
How many times have you heard that saying?
I've heard it a few times.

Husbands are often anxious about new enterprises--
they can see the money floating away on something
that they have no control over.
They expect some immediate success--
quit while you're ahead is their motto.

An agreeable amount of time and effort has to
be devoted to what you believe in and love to do--
but why spend more money continuing with a project
that doesn't seem to be paying off?

Most recently I gave up a website.
It was a Pro Account that allowed me to exhibit
and sell my photographs.
My decision to drop the account didn't mean
that I gave up.
I'd rather pocket the annual $149 site fee and use
it for my equipment or enlargements.

I'm working on a new gallery website.
No fee is involved other than a low percent,
per item sold, transaction fee via PayPal.

The downward economy has forced many of us to
reevaluate our options.
Positive changes bring on revitalization.
I'm pumped up and ready to give myself another go.

Attack of The Cell Phone Monster

Cell phones are invaluable when something
arises, like a car breakdown.
What’s lacking, though, is durability.
Why can’t every cell phone have waterproofed seals?

If a few drops of water hit the contacts, Zap!
Submerging my cell recently in a bowl of rice could
not revive it.
Absolutely frustrating, so I bought another phone.

I don’t take the cell outside by the pool anymore.
A few water droplets from my swimsuit dripped onto
the phone a couple of weeks ago.
It was like I’d sent it over Niagara Falls--
electrocuted itself, big time.

I’m certain the manufacturers don’t want
to build longevity into the cell phones.
The phones are all electric-chair worthy.
”Hey folks! There’s a hot new phone called
The Alcatraz Special--comes in cold steel gray and
guaranteed to be a sizzler at 12:01 a.m..”

People should also have cell phone etiquette.
I’d love it if cells came with a universal remote
so other people’s phones could be temporarily
de-activated.

Phones go off at the most inappropriate times:
in church and at the movies.
In a darkened movie theater, people text.
All the cell phones flickering on and off
during the movie looks like a lightning
bug convention.

Most phones have obnoxious ring tones.
My other phone had weird synthesizer tones--
always sounded like a call originating from Planet X.
I downloaded Jimmy Buffett's Margaritaville--
really drove my family nuts!

An irksome thing is when a call recipient talks so loudly--
I get a first hand account of their ‘business‘.
Private matters should be kept private, and voices
should be lowered when talking around other people.

People talk as if they're deaf.
I’ve heard everything from divorce talk to Uncle Ned’s
prostate surgery.
I probably would’ve worn out the remote by now.

Just Ducky...

We now own a duck.
Not by choice--he picked us.
I first saw"Cruiser", AKA "Baby Huey", cross
the street. Feet slapping the pavement, the
duck waddled purposefully in our direction, and
made himself at home in the garage, behind
Paul's truck-- flopping himself down like
he owned the place.

I tried chasing Cruiser to the lawn, hoping he'd go
back where he'd come from.
We chased each other in circles--all the while,
Cruiser emanating snorts of displeasure, and
trail markers. I gave up and went back into the house.
Sitting at my desk, I caught sight of something bobbing
along the window--Cruiser was heading to the back yard.

By now, Cruiser had elicited attention from Paul, who had
already developed an attachment to the hapless duck.
Paul set out a bowl of cold water since the heat index
was already 105.
Cruiser lapped the bowl until the water was gone.

So now, the duck has adopted us.
Cruiser is programmed to appear in the morning, afternoon,
and often, in the evening.
Paul's discovered Cruiser likes unsalted tortilla chips.
Cruiser won't win any beauty contests, but he's won this game.

Altered States

Nothing much has happened with Florida's weather
this summer--it's been hotter than a witch's
butt these days. The National Hurricane Center
forecasts a "near normal" hurricane season for
the Atlantic, with a 25% chance of above-normal
outbreaks and 25% chance of below-normal outbreaks;
overall, forecasters expressed a greater degree of
uncertainty this year than they have in past years.
NOAA predicts a 70% chance of the following:

• Named storms: 9-14
• Hurricanes: 4-7
• Major hurricanes: 1-3

When we first arrived in Naples as new residents,
the thunderstorms came like clockwork nearly
every afternoon--tremendous "crackers".
The storms were so terrifyingly exciting, we
filmed them.
We looked forward to the skyward electrical displays.

I also kept a hurricane diary.
In August of 2004, we had our first hurricane.
Charley was frightening. Talk about Friday the 13th!
Paul and I watched the leading bands creep
up from the south until the early morning hours.
It was eerie and heart palpitating.

Charley finally hit with a force around
1:25 p.m., uprooting two trees from our front yard.
The back yard and the street was a lake.

We've been through at least 4 hurricanes
since Charley; the last two years have
been very quiet, except for a few tropical
downpours.
The weather has definitely changed, not only
in Florida, but in so many other regions of the country.

I'm looking out from the top floor window in the
Books-A-Million bookstore.
The gulf side is dark with a few lightning streaks.
Looks like rain may be coming after all.

Slithering Creepers...

“There’s a spider in the bathroom,” Tom yelled from
the back of the house.
“Get rid of it,” I said, entering the room.
Spiders in Florida can be anything from a docile
daddy-long-legs to a wolf spider or tarantula.
Since Tom was brushing his teeth, I grabbed a Kleenex and
gently picked up the harmless spider, its body no larger than a pea.

In our home, I’m The Obliterator. I’ve had plenty of previous
experience in our former home in California, killing things.
The biggie for me was a rat [I think] that had invaded our home
from the garage. We lived on a hillside, so critters
would sometimes find their way into the house.

Its evidence was of course, droppings, but also, long claw rips
in my clothing. The rat must have trapezed across the rack of
clothing--it had laid a series of Jack The Ripper scars along the
fabric of several of my jackets and blouses.
His adventuring was short-lived.

It’s funny how a spider elicits a “kill” response, yet if
a deadly and venomous snake is found in the garage or
yard, like the recent juvenile Eastern Diamondback,
the response from the men in my family is ”Don’t kill it!”
The snake had a definite attitude, but it was removed with a broom.

The juvenile Eastern Diamondback found a week ago in
the garage, may have been the same one that was found dead in
the gutter a few days ago. Someone had whacked it .
There’s probably many more juvenile snakes from that snake’s
family which are waiting to slither onto our property.

I’ve been told for every quarter acre in our community,
there are at least 200 coral snakes.
I killed my first, and I hope last, coral snake almost a year ago.
As long as there's a reptile or arachnid that has the potential
for a deadly attack, I won't bat an eyelash killing it.

Red Flag Sale...

I’m wary of some sale items that are priced
at 60% off or better, like electronics or kitchen appliances.
There’s got to be something wrong with it in the first place.
I bought a TV once that died 1 day after the warranty expired.
A big clue to that purchase should have been when the
salesperson took the TV's remote from a basket of remotes which
was kept on the floor.

I've returned a number of items that have had quality issues:
Clothing whose seams have not been sewn properly,
or the fabric has faded drastically;
toasters which have toasted one side and burned
the other side of the bread.
Tom says I'm probably on store hot lists by now!

Some infomercials say if you call in the next 10 minutes
you’ll receive a second set for free!
Is that because the first set only lasts for a week?
Maybe a month?
[I'm slightly intrigued by the shaver blade sharpener].

We bought a car several years ago through a car club,
saving a good chunk of cash.
It was factory delivered to the local dealership,
and we picked it up.
It was also the El Nino season in California.
Driving home I rolled up the windows, or thought I did.
The windows wouldn't work, so I went back to the dealer.
That was the beginning of a long list of malfunctions.
The only lemons I like are in my iced tea or in lemon meringue pie.

All Sales Final is another catch phrase.
That’s supposed to mean something?
Suppose I buy a product and it bites the dust within 30 days
of purchasing? What, I can’t return it?

I bought an All Sales Final Southwest style love seat
years ago which was significantly reduced.
The love seat was delivered the same day and
looked very nice.
After a few minutes of sitting on the love seat, things started
hopping around--from the sofa to me--bite, itch...hop, hop.
I’d bought my own flea circus.

I complained about this problem but the salesperson said,
"All sales are final, lady."
Humphh...

I stay clear of most promotional gimmicks…
you can’t get something for nothing...
or can you…?

I'm From Venus, Tom's From Mars...

Cereal crumbs settle at the bottom of a cereal box--
a lot like married couples who’ve lived together for years.
Couples let it all hang out and soon peculiarities and
odd habits are revealed.

Everything has settled after 37 years. One gets used to being
married and sort of lets their hair down.
Sometimes, too much.

Over the years quirks and habits become a part
of everyday living. I’ve gotten used to towels being
strewn about the bath room, and the foyer being used as
a pit stop for his beach gear and work clothes.
Tom likes his stuff accessible.
We could move the “pot” into the room, too!
The clutter gets quickly picked up when neighbors
or family pop in.

I keep some of my artist equipment by the bed on my
side of the bedroom: An easel and a storage drawer unit.
I keep on top of it so it doesn’t get in the way.
My walk-in closet is another storage area for my photo
equipment and supplies.
I’m pretty neat, always stowing things back where they belong.

Granted, nothing stays the same--except my weight.
I’m only 7 pounds over from the day Tom married me.
I still have a full head of hair. Tom’s pants slink off
his shrinking waistline.
His diet is pretty healthy, though something calorie-filled
wouldn’t hurt him in the least.
I fondly remember when he used to eat cookies and birthday cake.
I try to avoid sweets, except for my once a week
guava danish I get from Whole Foods.

After two kids and a long marriage, gravitationally, things will settle…
the ladies out in cyber-land know what from where I speak.
Doing housework almost naked is an attractive option,
especially in hot and humid Florida.
I wear a swimsuit so I don't scare the dust bunnies...

The Everglades Adventure

If you are a first time visitor to South West Florida,
you must visit the Loop Road in the Big Cypress National
Preserve in the Everglades National Park.
The Loop Road begins at the junction of 41 at the historic
Monroe Station.

The entire length is approximately 26 miles;
most people turn around after the first 7 miles, since the main
bird sanctuaries [Strands] and prairies are within the first 6.5
miles of the Road.

The Loop Road shares a history with orchid poachers, pot
farmers and good old moonshiners.
The ghost orchid usually blooms in late July, pending the
right conditions. It's prolific in the Fakahatchee Strand
State Park and it can also be seen growing along the Loop Road.
The book, The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean, is a
fascinating read.

The gravelly road is sometimes exasperating: you may
find a gape mouthed alligator leisurely crossing the road,
or one that has decided to sunbathe smack in the middle
of the road. It's an exciting adventure to come face to face
with a gator, but one that should be approached with caution.
Travel speed of an alligator is 35 mph, though short-lived since
he tires easily. You definitely don't want to test his speed!

The Preserve is a blissfully peaceful area: the prevailing
sounds of alligators slapping in the water, the symphonic
rhythm from the crickets, frogs, herons, egrets and night herons,
echo through the cedar hammock forest.
It's a welcome elixir from city noise.

Pythons are an unwelcome inhabitant of the Everglades.
The Fish and Wildlife Service crews drive the roads nightly
capturing Burmese Pythons.
It's been said that the python population has reached upwards
of 110,000 within the Everglades Park.
Other deadly snakes inhabit the Everglades: the pygmy
and the cottonmouth to name two.
Panthers inhabit the forests and are sometimes spotted crossing the roads.

Info from the internet:

Top experiences:

Everglades National Park magnets: wheelchair accessible walkways at Anhinga Trail, Gumbo Limbo Trail, Pahayokee Overlook, Mahogany Hammock, and West Lake Trail.

What will I see? Birds and alligators at Anhinga; tropical hardwood hammock at Gumbo Limbo; an overlook of the River of Grass from Pahayokee's tower; a subtropical tree island with massive mahogany growth along Mahogany Hammock; and a forest of mangrove trees on West Lake Trail.

For a short visit: Flamingo's Eco Pond provides for waterside wildlife viewing.

With more time: Shark Valley lets you combine the quarter-mile Bobcat Boardwalk (looping through sawgrass prairie and a bayhead) with the 1-mi-long round-trip Otter Cave, allowing you to steep in subtropical hardwood hammock.

Want a tour? Pahayokee and Flamingo feature informative ranger-led walks.

Take the Swamp Walk, an impressive tour given by Clyde Butcher, renown Everglades photographer. Info can be obtained from his Gallery below.

Big Cypress Gallery Ochopee, FL (Everglades) Open 7 Days a Week 10:00-5:00 (239) 695-2428

The Great Bowl Beyond...

Not only have I not had a green thumb over the years,
but my track record with pet longevity has been just so-so--
especially with goldfish.

When Paul was about 8, he wanted two gold fish.
So off we went and bought a couple of very cute fish,
which Paul named Junior and Goldie.
We wanted to do things up right to give Junior and
Goldie the best advantage of a long life.

After paying the cashier for Junior and Goldie,
a proper size bowl, food, and a water filtration system,
we got home and set everything up.
Junior and Goldie were as happy as two fishes could be…
for a couple of days.

The fish either didn’t like their existing accommodations,
or we were lacking something in the care and feeding
department. Paul thought a toy in the bowl would give
the fish something to swim in and out of.
A diver and a piece of coral later, Junior and Goldie
sort of perked up…
for a couple of days.

The glint in Junior's and Goldie's eyes had dimmed.
What was wrong? Had we failed as fish caregivers?
Paul tried his best to get his fish back in the swim of things…
But they were out of one bowl and into another…

On The Road to 100...

*Avoid laughing or sneezing too hard

*Avoid ice rinks during hot flashes.

*Double-dipped ice cream means it’s on your second chin.

*Orthopedic problems means you can’t find your orthopedic shoes.

*You know you’re older when your boobs become air-flotation devices.

*You know you’re getting older when you buy cellophaned packs of cotton underwear.

*The most excitement to cause a sweat is moving the furniture around.

*When barbecuing meant grilling meat and not your husband.

*Going for a ride means slipping on a wet floor.

*Losing it means taking a pair of boxers to a store to see if you can still find the same style. Only Omar the Tent Maker knows where to get them.

*Eating bread pudding because you lost your upper set of dentures on vacation.

*When romance novels start curling at the edges.

*You’re getting older when you play thermostat tag with your husband.

*You’re getting older when your mail includes brochures from funeral parlors.

*You’re getting older when the “miracle creams” refuse to work any more.

*Your idea of staying up is making it to 9:30.

*When you try tuning in to a program that’s been canceled for the last 5 years.

*You acquire a taste for Godiva chocolates and looser clothes.

*When people start referring to you as “sir”.

*When you do housework in the nude and you accidentally vacuum a boob.

*When you mistake drooling for a middle of the night passionate kiss.

*When you’re pantyhose only reaches your kneecaps.

*When your moods swing more than you.

Plumb It All!

When you have a home you hope that nothing
too major goes wrong--especially if you or your mate
is a bit dysfunctional when it comes to fixing things.
Suddenly, you’ve established a close bond with Home
Depot or Lowe’s home improvement stores.

What can go wrong when you have the experts in your corner?
In the master shower there are 7 tiles which are cracking
horizontally--one dang tile after another.

The toilet float valve in the master bath has gone bad.
We head out to get it replaced.
"Yes, sir, " Ken and Steve in the plumbing department of H. D.
say to Tom. "It’s the correct replacement, sir."

Just taking the new valve from the plastic casing
requires a degree from MIT.
We tug, pull, attempt to separate, break some nails,
curse, cut our fingertips, when finally, one corner
has popped open.
It’s a struggle to separate, then voila!
We have the valve in hand.
Disassembling the original valve is easy, but lo--
the new one doesn’t fit.

Wrong unit, so back to H D we go.
Ken and Steve have ducked out on a break,
so we find a very weathered old man working in the
department, who resembles an entombed mummy.
Sam gives us the right unit.
"Are you sure, Sam" I ask?
"Oh, yes," Sam replies with a wink.

Well, again we struggle with the fused plastic casing,
and after a few heated minutes and snarling,
we’re back in the toilet.
Yes! By Sam Hill, it fits!
Minutes later, we notice a constant drip, drip, drip
coming from the nut.

Tom tightens the nut and by now we’re going nuts,
because nothing is stopping the leak.
Two hours later, we give in and call a handyman
whom we’ve used before.
Another Steve, not a Ken.

$135 bucks later, Mr. Fix-It has finished the job,
and has left.
That night we see evidence of leaking once again.
The toilet has it in for us…