Bite me . . .

We've taken to sitting out front after dinner and chatting with the neighbors who wander by. It's normally a very enjoyable way to pass the early evening. But, since the monsoons, the mosquitoes are bigger than the crows. Last night they feasted on the tasty and juicy 9TS . . . twice . . . once on each shoulder.

This morning however, he woke up a little more than munched on. He was obviously the appetizer, main course AND dessert. We're not sure who made lunch of the poor man but someone had a voracious appetite. This has put a damper on our outdoor socializing . . . unless of course we leave a little path of invitations to the pool deck . . . which is, thankfully, screened in against the flotilla of stinging pests in this neck of the woods.



Can I sell you some swamp land in the Sunshine State?

Let the games begin . . .

Over at the Spraground there is fun afoot . . . a new challenge each day for the last seven days of the month.

The first challenge called for the use of this template by Liv Estaban.



Day two asked for the use of one of Jessica Sprague's Photoshop Friday lessons.



day 3 . . . the requirement was to center around an inanimate object.



Day 4 required song lyrics:



Day 5 . . . you had to blab a secret . . . yikes . . .




Day 6 . . . was a color challenge. You could only use the colors provided.



Day 7 . . .

The sky is falling . . .

and chicken little is drowning. After months of drought, the skies finally opened on Sunday. Unfortunately, someone forgot to turn off the tap . . . it now having rained for four consecutive days almost non-stop.

As the Wednesday lunch bunch headed out for good food, good company and good libation, the going was slow . . . rain pounding down. Three drowned rats sprinted from the car to the safety of a local eatery. From our window seat, we watched cars plowing through the ever increasing water in the southbound slow lane, creating huge rooster tails in their wake. By the time lunch was over, both lanes . . . both directions . . . were flooded. In fact, the water was now over the curb and covering a good portion of the sidewalk. We decided to cut our gab fest short and head home while the getting was good.

Out at the car, the water in the parking lot was almost to the edge of the door. ACK! Shoes in hand, we dived into the car. A1A was now afloat. We headed south to find a side street that would take us down towards the river and hopefully dryer land. It took half a dozen tries before we found a dry-ish road. Once over the bridge, traffic was at a standstill at one of the major intersections. We opted to once again head south trying to go the back way. But US1 was also awash. Badly. Cars stalled. Rain unrelenting. After several more attempts, we found another side road . . . passing houses with ponds for front yards, overflowing streams, flooded property.









Speaking of ponds for yards. This was our own lawn. ACK!!!!



The official tally for the day: 12". That's right. Twelve inches of rain in one day and nothing but more in the forecast. The 9TS was out back bailing out a low spot outside our french doors. The pool was overflowing into the woods behind the house . . . . a lone armadillo searching in vain for some shelter.

Get out the canoes. Set the sails. Call Noah. The sky is falling.

The great race . . . .

well . . . maybe not THE great race but according to the paper this morning, they were starting the next to last leg of the Tybee 500 Extreme Catamaran Race at 10:00 a.m. . . . having spent the night in town on their way from Islamorada to Tybee Island, Georgia. My eyes perked up and as soon as the 9TS awoke, I explained with great glee that I was headed out to watch. Having visions of Nautilus machines dancing in his head as he does on most Friday mornings, he was not quite as gleeful as I. But forever game, we headed for the beach together . . . a little north of all the hoopla.

As soon as we walked down the approach, you could see them in the far distance shoving off from the beach.



Since we were a good three miles above them and the day was beautiful, we started to wade down towards them. It had been so long since I had sunk my tootsies into the soft sand and surf, an audible sigh of delight escaped my lips. Now I remember why I live where I live. We meandered down almost a mile to meet them. Being the jealous soul that I am, I was picturing myself sailing up the Florida coast and into Tybee bay on my very own mythical catamaran. Another audible sigh.







As the bulk of the boats passed, we slowly wandered back to the approach, rinsed off our sandy feet and drove home along the river. I think the 9TS had caught my glee.



A good morning for a great race . . .

we had a visitor . . .

he lives down the street but comes by almost every evening . . . with his parents and his best bud who just happens to be a big goofy lab. This guy's name is Taz. Is he not adorable?



We are infected with furry friends. On our street alone, we have 10 cats and 8 dogs . . . in eleven homes. Oh! and 5 kids . . . of the human variety. I love our neighborhood.

Oh happy day!!!!

Last night my kidlet called to say she was out with friends and noticed the moon rising over the ocean . . . a huge red moon. "Run downstairs to the driveway," she said. I cheated and looked out the window. Nothing yet. A second call. "Run to the driveway, you should be able to see it now." I looked out the window again. No moon . . . but she was so insistent I headed downstairs and out the door. Half way down the walk, I saw her car. My kidlet had sneaked home for Mother's Day. Oh happy day!!!!

So for my mother's day present, my kidlet who hates to dress up, did. And let me loose behind my camera. Best Mother's Day yet. Oh happy day!!!!



Of course had I not fouled up my metering settings, she wouldn't look quite so pale. Another lesson learned . . .

it's a tortuous life . . .

We ran away again. Back to St. Augustine to get this little goodie for a buddy who is turning 6 and whose father works for the sheriff's department:



Let me tell you, it's tough driving up there. All there is to stare at is water.



But we also went because the replicas of the Nina and Pinta were docked up there. I know, I know, it would have been one heck of a lot easier to have visited them when they were here in town, but no, we had to wait until after they left and then chase them up the coast.





and lest you are wondering why such tight shots, it's because the poor little boats . . . true in size to the originals . . . were sandwiched between a few obscenely large pleasure boats and the construction on the Bridge of Lions:



Didn't make for great composition.

We knew we were going to be leaving late on this expedition so we planned on eating dinner at one of our favorite little restaurants . . . the Conch House. One of the reasons . . . besides the outstanding food . . . that we love this place, is that you can eat perched in little aeries under thatched roofs above the marina. What's not to love about a cool breeze and a cold beer.



A view from our nest:



and another:



Ordinarily, I would have taken food shots before eating but when the food arrived, we got carried away and by the time I remembered, this is all that was left of the 9TS's "Atlantic coast sea scallops, shrimp, and crab meat, simmered in a red wine datil pepper sauce tossed with pasta":



or my fresh grouper with sauteed zucchini, eggplant and roasted tomatoes:



Don't I look pensive when sated. Note to self . . . keep camera away from sloth.



On the way home, I decided I needed some shots of Matanza Inlet. The problem being, the road actually runs over the inlet for quite a way and there is no place to park. So the 9TS parked at the base of the bridge and I hot footed it through traffic and up and over the guard rails to get a couple of shots . . . . think a couple, three city blocks.



as I turned to trek back to the car, I see the 9TS pull out and head my way. The dear man was going to pick me up. Once again, I bounded over the guard rails and two stepped my way to the south bound lane and dived into the car before traffic backed up. Gotta love the 9TS.

And seriously . . . while I kid about the torture of living here, I am truly thankful for the life we lead. Truly. Thankful.

kidlets and kandles . . . .

It's late and consequently dark. My kidlet . . . with a sly grin . . . wants to borrow my camera. Off she goes armed with jars, candles and a mirror. Twenty minutes later she is back . . . flash card in hand. . . .

with this:


and even better . . . this:


There are more . . . many more . . . and in time, they will appear. I am always amazed when I get to see through my kidlet's quirky eye.

perking up . . .

In the middle of the night, when I wake . . . my brains going round and around . . . and no one else in the house is up, I love logging on and finding my fellow insomniacs. Not that we exactly solve the world's woes but a little conversation about cats or kids is a good thing. Thanks Marg!

So today I am, of course, pooped. Grumpy. Testy. Just plain mean. And the 9TS wants to run up the interstate to some flower and garden show he saw advertised in the paper. Not my first choice of things to do. I was sort of eying my bed . . . or one of the pool chaise lounges . . . or the sofa . . . you get my drift.

But the truth is, the 9TS is a good man. And if he wants to go to some botanical bonanza, then that is what we'll do. We followed the Mapquest directions . . . got lost but once. The show turned out to be less than stellar. More like a garden club exhibit in a parking lot. I was way beyond grumpy.

But nothing and I mean nothing rejuvenates like a drive down the coast. Except maybe to pull off at our favorite little fish joint and chug a couple of cold ones. I was decidedly less miserable. The 9TS slurped a dozen oysters. While they are not exactly my thing, sitting on a deck cantilevered over the beach, surrounded by the aroma of fresh seafood, hush puppies and salt air . . . . . now that folks, is stellar.

nuff said . . .

Thanks to Cathy for the original post.

trapped like a rat . . . .

OK, so we know I have an attachment . . . bordering on obsession . . . to my ancient red Miata . . I know, I know, not healthy. But I really do adore . . . especially this time of year . . . tooling around town, top down, music blasting. I reiterate . . . . it makes me feel good.

That said, I also love my home . . . . I like to sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds that make it so . . . the fridge cycling on and off . . . the dryer running . . . Katie's door squeaking in the breeze through the window . . . the whir of my computer speakers . . . the squirrels running across the pool cage to annoy the cats . . . the sound of the 9TS's foot steps. They are all things reminiscent of my life. But as Katie and I sat on her bed yesterday afternoon, working on a project, a semi familiar noise wafted from the front of the house, up the stairs and into her room. I know that sound but I don't. As I get up to investigate, I hear the screen door slam as the 9TS enters grumbling beneath his breath.

"The spring on the garage door is broken."

So that is why the sound was semi familiar. The garage door attempting to open and close. Over and over again. Now I hear a different noise . . . Cha-ching.

Then panic set in as the 9TS announced that the door would not budge . . . even manually. His car was in the driveway. The Miata . . . trapped in the garage . . . . tethered . . . . corralled . . . unreachable . . . I could almost hear its plaintive cry.

I called the company we have used for years . . . they could come next Tuesday. TUESDAY!!!! I have places to go . . . people to see . . . . speed limits to break. And even if I didn't . . . . trapped is not acceptable. I need to run to the store. I need . . . I need . . . FREEDOM!!!!

We called another company . . . they would be here today. The hours ticked by. I paced. Finally they arrived and once again, I can back her out and fly down the road to nowhere in particular. I don't like being trapped like a rat. No, not I.