It's A Purple Bellied Snork...

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...

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....

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

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....

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...?

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...

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...!

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...?

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...

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...

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

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:

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?

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...

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

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?!

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...

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"

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!

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!