night lights . . .

In my middle of the night wanderings around the net, I came across this site and you just know I had to try it out. Of course as usual, I failed to read the full directions and when I hit the part about curing over night, I knew I was in trouble. Nothing a hair dryer couldn't handle. So this was sitting on our front porch welcoming the trick or treaters. Fun to make.

almost as good as garlic . . .

a free class from Jessica Sprague . . .



"No digital scrapbooking or Photoshop experience is needed, just some holiday stories to tell. :)"

comfort food . . .

While still quite uncomfortable, I once again dragged the 9TS out for dinner at Carrabba's. He sits there just so long and then we bolt. Thankfully, Richard . . . our waiter . . . understands. Tonight he got the kitchen to prepare the haddock with marinara sauce. The 9TS really perked up. And since I couldn't make up my mind and was asking about bruschetta, Richard came back with a caprese salad with pesto sauce. I think I died and went to heaven. Perfect. One more time folks: what's not to love about garlic! Happily, we waddled out the door.

normal?

I live in a normal neighborhood . . . well except for the exorcists next door . . . but every neighborhood has one of them right? Baahaaa! (sorry). Being just days until Halloween, I decided to meander the three cul-du-sacs to inhale some seasonal sensory sublime-ness . . . . which translates into . . . without Katie, we don't decorate and I was missing it.

Of course I took my camera. And as I stood, squatted, and generally pointed said camera in every direction, I noticed something odd about the decorations. Where are the cute pumpkins? The straw scarecrows? The bales of hay? Where was the Indian corn? Hummm.


Credits: Pumpkin, Webbing: SNA, Fonts: CK_Ali's Writing, Chiller

Nope. We have gory hands coming up from the ground. Pumpkin ghosts hanging from tree. Skeletons propped up on mailboxes. So much for sweetness and light. What exactly does this say about "the hood?" I don't know but I love it.

And on other non-related topics, Kaity needed help on an assignment that required scanning and merging. It's been well over a year since I have had a need to "stitch" a layout and never since acquiring CS4. What a breeze! So much easier than the old 2,976 step program.



So here is old Luna . . . coming and going in the same photo. Have I told you recently how giddy CS4 makes me? Giddy! Giddy! Giddy!

what's not to like about . . .

tomatoes, garlic, basil and fresh mozzarella. Oh, and some olive oil and balsamic vinegar. NOTHING! I was watching Ina Garten the other day and she was making this Roasted Tomato Caprese Salad. So you know I had to try it. I checked out the comments first and bought a loaf of stick bread, sliced it and popped it under the broiler until crisp. Tomatoes in this neck of the woods are pathetic. Tasteless. But as promised, the slow roasting did the trick. Since I was just cooking for the 9TS and myself, I halved the recipe. I could have made the full serving but would have had to waddle around for hours until I was comfortable again . . . it was sooooo good. A definite "do again". I also would have taken a picture but somehow, it was inhaled before the thought crossed my mind. Oh, glorious yum.

Now, as soon as there is room, we are having Shrimp Aioli for dinner. The garlic is going to be permeating out our pours. Does life get any better?

groan . . .

credits: Paper: Lynne Grieveson, Stitches: Anna Aspnes, Leaf: Pixel Works, Brads: Jeanine Baechthold, Mask: Lynne Favreau, Fonts: Arial, You Are Loved, Rage Italica.

home sweet home . . .

Let's regress here a bit. Long before I was happily married to the 9TS and had a 21 year old. I was a college student on a small bucolic campus. It was a stunning place. I remember it fondly if hazily. As a matter of fact, I liked it so much, I stayed on in town for another three years before heading south to my present location. Often in my late night meanderings through the net, I come across a gem. This one almost got away from me. I looked at it several times before the light bulb went off.



This I filched from Jim Patterson's Post Cards from Snyder County. See that little arched window on the upper left side of the house? That was my roost for a year. One of two attic apartments in a 100+ year old farm house. I loved looking out that window down the end of the Isle and off into the river. It was from my neighbor's matching window that I looked out and saw a "plastic bag" on the ground a little ways off. The bag was moving. As I went down to investigate, I grabbed my landlord, Mrs. Burgard, who being much more savvy than I, grabbed a towel. The baby lamb was in perfect shape. Awesome.

That front door was also the site of my slipping on ice and finding myself flopping on the ground like a landed pike. Sigh.

The summer after I vacated the premises, hurricane Agnes came roaring through and decimated the area. I went back to visit Mrs. Burgard to see how she and the family had fared. Mud and yuck dribbled out of her kitchen drawers as she opened them one by one to clean. Simply awful.

It was an odd but wonderful place to live . . . that aerie of mine.

a slight ewwwww factor . . .

years ago, I drove to the elementary school to pick up Katie and found a whole congregation of kidlets hanging around laughing with the abandon only 2nd graders can manage. When she didn't come running to the car as she usually did on those rare days I got to pick her up, I parked the car to investigate. There they all were . . . lizards in hand . . . hanging them off each others ear lobes. Yep, you read that right. Apparently, it is a rite of passage for Florida youngsters. Being from the frigid north, we had pollywog egg fights, but this was new territory for me.

Apparently, it was new territory to Ryan as well. Katie was determined that he should not miss this ritual. When I heard her scream, "Mom, get the camera!" I knew she had cornered a chameleon and went out to watch.

I have to give Ryan credit. He never blinked an eye when she attached the beastie, nor when the camera balked at night shots. He stood his ground.

So we had this . . .


turn into this . . .



and finally, this . . .



and so it was that Ryan was initiated and granted his honorary Florida playground diploma. You're a good man Ryan. A very good man.

WHOOPIE . . .

The 9TS had his last radiation treatment this morning and we packed our bags and headed home. Hooray!!! The world is good. No more commuting.

Todays blog has been brought to you by the letter B as in a BIG sigh of relief.

IRL . . .

last night the 9TS and I went back for our last pizza at the Broadway Ristorante, but unlike our previous visits, this time we had company. We were joined by a friend I had "chatted" with over the years, but never met in real life, and her husband. That is the beauty of the internet. You can garner friends from literally all over the world and never have to step out of the cave.

But step out we did and noshed with Sue and her husband John.



It was fun. I had a good time. Maybe I should venture out of the cave more often. Ya think? Thanks Sue! For coming all that way, for bringing John, for all the cards that cheered the 9TS. Thank you.

last day . . .

certainly not the last day I will ever be thankful for something but the last day of this project. Now I just have to turn it into a spiffy mini album. Or that would be the case if I were not so desperately behind in the course. ACK! Any who:

I am thankful for this glorious day. It is cool and crisp and drop dead gorgeous. And after a L O N G hot summer, it is like an oasis. A rejuvenation. Color me happy, happy.

I am thankful for the rotisserie chicken that is going to be our dinner. A) They are very good, B) it means I don't have to cook. Something I don't want to do today but am looking forward to getting back to once we are home for good. I miss the daily pattern of my life that has been so upended lately.

I am thankful that we have met all the people that entered our world the last six weeks. Each in their own way, have left foot prints in our lives. I will, however, not miss the Lodge. I am grateful for it, just won't miss it. Especially those who were recently evicted. Another story.

On a different note, I have a new phone. Mine was hard to text on and this one was free after rebate so why not? Why not, indeed. I haven't even learned how to turn it on yet. I am so techno challenged. Katie, please come help me out. I'll bake you cookies? Crock pot chicken? Chicken that smells good when cooking?

cool weather . . .
beef stew over noodles . . .
cotton sweaters . . .

we are finally out of the 90's. high of 73. paint me happy.
cold weather food. garlic, onions, lean beef, carrots, taters, peas.
long sleeves. comfort. tactile bliss.

yertle . . .

credits: Paper, leaves, dots; Julia Makontinsk, Brackets: Meredith Fenwick, Staples: Pattie Knox, Mask: Jessica Sprague, Fonts: CK
Journaling, Everyday Ghost

Friday's . . .

sleep . . .
new age music . . .
color . . .

As elusive as sleep may be, it is a wonderful thing when I finally comes. Yesterday, after driving home, I took a three hour nap. Sheer delight. Went to bed at 11:30 and slept until the alarm sounded off at 7:00. I whacked it senseless and garnered another 10 minutes. Where else can you go for free movies in living color? Yes, I dream in color. Slo-mo. And, I can fly! Mostly I like that I can visit people I no longer get to see in real life. Old friends. My father. I can be back in high school, or giving birth again. I can be anybody. Do anything. I am king of my domain! Did I mention I can fly? What do you dream about?

My music tastes are a tad eclectic. I like anything that moves me. My iPod is having an identity crisis from its multiple personalities. Right now I am listening to Marshal Styler. Yanni is coming up next. Peaceful. Mellowing. Stress less. I vote for anything that relieves stress.

Color. Color, like cotton, is the fabric of my life. I left "home" in 1974. "Home" for years referred to "Up North". I missed the seasons, I missed the lake. I missed fall most. That explosion of color. But some time in the mid 80's, I was on a 17 day business trip and was free to go wherever on weekends. I chose "home". It was late March. As I schlepped my stuff into the overhead rack of the bus leaving Port Authority, I schulmped into a window seat and watched for familiar landmarks. A certain joy started to warm me as I got closer to the Grand Union where my father would be waiting. But then it happened. Slowly I realized that the sky was gray, as was the pavement, and the old snow, and the faces on the pedestrians, and the trees and lawns. There was no color that day. None. That was the day Florida became "home". While we don't have the blaze of fall, we have a riot of color on an almost daily basis.

No wonder I dream in color.

safe passage down I-4 . . .
Joanie . . .
silvadene cream . . .

I know I sound like a broken record with the I-4 bit, but A) I am terrified of interstate driving, B) my car is working on being 11 years old and C) resembles a roller skate next to those semis. But it did it. It made 10 one-way passages. Had a few hairy moments but we survived. Next week is the last two treatments and the 9TS and I will travel together. Thank God.

And thanks to she who watches over my herd while we are gone. One less worry on our minds and that is a big deal. So if you ever want to know how you can help someone in the same situation, offer to take care of their pets. That's my PSA for the day. Thanks Joanie.

The 9TS's skin is starting to break down. Silvadene to the rescue. It's not a cure-all but it sure helps.

and . . .

a fun afternoon at Busch Gardens . . .
two wonderful Lodge characters named Ida Jean and Rose . . .
and, Kelli, who just cracks me up . . .


and now for a little monkey business . . .



and a little more . . .



because she kept swinging . . .



and swinging . .



or would you prefer a catnap . . .



and just for Michelle . . .



have you met king tut? aka the 9TS?



and then just because I am jealous of him, meet Mr. Elephant



At least he can remember why he is standing in front of the fridge . . .

and Mr. Rhino . . . ? He is famous for being a rare black rhino.



who looks awfully brown to me . . .

but then again, this is how I view the world . . .



the end.

and more . . .

safe passage once again down I-4 . . .
Basil and pepperoni pizza from Broadway Ristorante . . .
lunch with good friends . . .

In the midst of noshing down my pizza, the owner shows up with this huge plate of "Knots", compliments of the house. These little gems are to die for. Little nuggets of pizza dough baked and drizzled with diced garlic, butter, parsley and Romano. Little bites of heaven. Chocolate doesn't stand a change next to these babies. Really, they are that good.

more . . .

a good long afternoon nap . . .
a call from Katie . . .
the 9TS made it safely to Tampa . . .

today's list . . .

good friends . . .
good cabernet . . .
my laptop . . .

All three make me feel warm, comfortable and connected.

disturbia . . .

Last night we went to Octoberfest . . . a local tradition here in town. A rite of passage. I've been going since I moved to the area some 35 years ago. It's not that it is all that fabulous but its a fun place to hang out with friends when you're single, bring your kids when they come along, give your tweens some space, spend time with the 9TS. Maybe even win a dayglo orange pooch . . .



But last night, my camera caught some things that I really hadn't paid attention to. Odd things.
Like the sad state of affairs of the carney balls



and the blind duckies. Blind Duckies?!?!?!? Where is the sport in that. Whoa!



and finally and TOTALLY less disturbing, Katie brought along her beau. Say hi to Ryan.



So it was a good evening. Even if we did spend most of dinner harassing Katie. She is greatly loved.

hummmm . . .

lunch with the 9TS at Panera's
for his help replacing the rug
because he loves me.

Yep, I am grateful for them all.

Can it be mostly for the help with the rug? Because one of the cats yakked on it . . . repeatedly . . . and it had to be hosed down and dried in the sun. And its heavy. And I hate schlepping it back upstairs. And I know, someone is just going to yak again. Because that's what cats do. Naw, forget it, it is all about the loving me part.

it's Friday . . .

and I am grateful to have a house to clean . . .
a grandchild to take to school . . .
a husband home for the weekend . . .

well, while it is true that I am thankful that I have a house to clean, I kind of wish it would do it itself. Well, more than kind of. Do they make houses like that? Can I buy one? You wake up each morning and the mountain of cat hair has been sucked into oblivion. The ring around the tub has gone poof! The sink is clean, the dishwasher run. The clothes ironed and put away. The garbage put out . . . the lawn mowed . . . the pool cleaned . . . the litter changed . . . the floors mopped. Maybe we should move

I am grateful . . .

for the service organization who made a pancakes and egg breakfast for the Hope Lodge residents this morning. So many forgo a good breakfast because it is just to hard to cook.

for Lauren, the radiologist's nurse, who puts up with my gazillion questions and never, not once, rolls her eyes at me.

for Bear who is curled up in the crook of my arm, snoring softly.

strangers . . .

today I am grateful for the man in Target who found us a Tampa/St. Pete map so we could go on a little adventure and still find our way home.

and for the man on the beach who sent us to Keegan's for lunch. Wonderful, amber jack fish dip and a fabulous grouper sandwich.

The 9TS loves his clams. He was a happy soul.



And this was the dip before I decimated it. I should apologize for being such a pig. But I am, so I won't. Slurp!



and then of course there was the allure of the place having been on Drive-ins, Diners and Dives, a favorite show of ours . . .





but all in all, it boils down to the food itself. My plate was empty before I remembered my camera. Nothing but some of the 9TS's pasta salad graced the plate. And truthfully, I would have scoffed that up too had I had the room.



but most importantly, I am grateful for Gerry and Gary who have become the 9TS's friends and will be sorely missed as we depart the Lodge and go our separate ways.

another day of thanks . . .

and I am grateful for the peace of a yoga class . . .
a safe journey back to Tampa . . .
fresh basil . . .

OK, the basil seems a little off but I love basil on my pizza, mixed with mozzarella and tomatoes in a salad, baked in ziti, in almost any sandwich. It's such a clean fresh earthy taste with an aroma so heavenly. So darn it, I am grateful for my little basil plant that I have yet to be able to kill. With my track record, I don't have high hopes for an extended life span but in the meantime, it greets me every morning from the window sill and brightens my day. Amen.

happy dance time again . . .

another new class starts today. Type+Writer2 at the Spraground! Hooray! One of the assignments for the two week class is to keep a running list of three things you are grateful for each day. So here goes:

Today I am grateful that:

the 9TS is alive.
Katie is happy.
A little black cat curled up on my chest early this morning to snuggle.

The other assignment is to take a photograph a day and write a little note as to why you chose that shot. Do you think a shot of me saying nasty things to the lawn mower this afternoon will count.

Both of these assignments will fall into place as the week(s) transpire. Can't wait. This is going to be a fun ride. Kel, Marg, you with me?

just another little oddity . . .

The 9TS and I decided to explore the University Mall one afternoon. We found a spot to park the car where we were relative certain we could find it again. Don't forget, the motto in this house is . . . As soon as we have hit the end of the driveway, the 9TS is lost and I have forgotten where we were going . . . But I digress. There were these "things" over in one section. As the 9TS was making a beeline for the mall entrance . . . he likes to shop . . . I was wandering off base as usual, trying to understand the roped off pods.

On closer inspection, the light bulb went off. They were bike abodes. Secure cycling cylinders. Weather proof porticoes. Theft resistant tents. Serious domiciles for the non-sedentary. I was fascinated.





My poor bike is relegated to the garage where I tap it regularly with nose of my Miata. Maybe it needs one of these?

just call me spotty . . .

I had my six month appointment with my dermatologist this morning. Since we've been together for quite a few years, she just automatically walks in with her can of liquid nitrogen. Twelve bursts later, and I am good to go. By the time I got home, I was nicely blistered and stinging. Such is the life of a red head who has enjoyed too much time in the sun.

Who knew as we basted in baby oil in the late 50's that we'd be Kentucky Fried in our 60's. Or that it would be the sun lamps of the 70's that etched in those crow's feet. Follow that by years of lounging on the beach, baking poolside and driving around topless . . . the car that is . . . and you have damaged skin.

The 9TS should be my poster boy for skin cancer, but let's face it. Who would think to look between their toes for the odd little spot that would cause so much trouble. My PSA for the day? Slather on the sunblock and up the SPF.

In the meantime, the 9TS has been calling me "Spotty" all day long. I get no respect.

holy yeast brewers, Leroy!

Let me preface this post for those not quite up to speed with my idiosyncrasies. While I adore my 10 year old, fire engine red Miata, and love nothing better than tooling around town with the top down having a ball, the fun stops on the interstate. I am terrified of interstate driving . . . and have been for years. Now put me on the interstate in a sardine can doing 70 mph by myself through Orlando traffic and you have my candidate for basket case of the year. Moi!

This morning as I was heading back from Tampa, I was feeling a little more relaxed. This was my 6th one way trip and I had survived. My hands were actually not clutching the steering wheel so badly my knuckles ached, as is par for the course. I was, if not a happy camper, at least not on the verge of a panic attack. Life was good.

I even made it through Orlando with little problem. And as I passed Altamonte Springs, I began that surge of relief that tells me I might make it home. Until . . .

. .until the redneck in the right lane decides he wants to occupy the middle lane. The very same lane I am chugging along in. And since he is bigger and badder he just moves over. Unfortunately, there was someone in the left hand lane who liked where he was. EEK! At 70 mph, I served far enough away from bozo but not far enough to hit the guy next to me and sped up and out of the middle of the squeeze play. God Bless my little red Miata that hugs the ground.

Bozo to his credit, finally realized the middle lane was otherwise occupied and veered back into the slow lane. He then sped up along side of me and by way of apology, tipped his frigging beer can at me!!!! Really!

I waited for the jello to ebb out of my knees, my feet to stop shaking, my breath to be a little less ragged and thanked the Lord that I had just relieved myself at the last rest stop.

Next week I am going to walk to Tampa.