ten. nine. eight. seven. six.

well, i can't say that 2012 rang my bell.  its been a bottom of the barrel year to say the least, but on the positive side:

i got to spend more time with Kidlet.

i read 54 books.

i've learned to be more self reliant.

i have THE best friends.

i've gathered more patience.

i've been buoyed from the least expected sources.

i've shed some guilt.

special thanks to the following.  you each know why:

Joanie
Nancy
Robin
Lee
Kelli
Sue
Les
Barbara

Christmas, the long version . . .

I'm going to go out on a limb and say we made it through Christmas even though there are still a few minutes left.

Let's back up a day first.

Christmas Eve is full of holiday tradition with us.  The 9TS started cooking early in the morning for the Feast of the Seven Fishes.  He picked up the flag after his mother passed away.  He'd make fish chowder from dried cod.  Shrimp.  Fried smelts.  Airships.  Crabs in gravy over spaghetti.  White fish and muscles or clams.  And of course the gravy.  Rich tomato sauce full of meatballs made with beef/veal/pork, country pork ribs and sweet Italian sausage, all simmering for hours until the house smelled so delicious, everyone was drooling.  Oh, and stuffed manicotti.  The BEST stuffed manicotti. 

Last year,  my sloth was not feeling his best.  The menu was a little shorter and he mostly gave me directions from his chair but he still made the gravy and then put me in charge.  I promptly burned the gravy . . . as in we had to toss the pot afterwards.  You know, those big blue pots with white speckles.  Even a jack hammer couldn't save this ones life.  But we ate and carried on with family and had a good time.

This year, Kidlet and I have forged new traditions.  The same, just different.  We nixed the idea of all the fish.  We are not keen on things that sound like dirigibles, remind us of pig iron, or come with their own shells . . . except shrimp.  Shrimp are good.  But that left the gravy.

Long before I met the 9TS, my idea of spaghetti sauce came from a jar.  He put me straight the first time I served it to him and has been making our gravy ever since.  Until yesterday morning, I had never made a meatball in my life.

(Now it must be noted that on occasion, I have a bright idea and last year, I had my laptop on the kitchen table furiously taking notes as the gravy process proceeded.)

So there I was hand deep in ground pork, ground veal and ground beef, eggs, breadcrumbs, spices, cheese and two slices of squishy bread.  Squishy bread????  Yep, I looked again at my notes.  What the heck was squishy bread.  Well I winged it with milk sodden wholewheat and figured who would know.  I had enlisted Kidlet's moral support and she ensconced herself in one of the big leather chairs from the living room she had dragged to the kitchen . . . and was happily watching the proceedings while crocheting.

Not trusting myself, I had asked everyone and anyone about the intricacies of meatballs and the general consensus was to make them tight so I didn't end up with meat sauce instead.  Tight.  Please define tight.  At this point, Kidlet, who hates getting her hands gunky, hops up, washes her paws and starts 'tightening' up my balls.  Go Kidlet.

Now, all we could do was wait for four hours to see the results, but not without a back up plan.  I made baked ziti from bottled gravy, cooked some shrimp, made a salad and four loaves of garlic bread.  We would not starve if all went downhill . . . fast.

The results?  Damned good gravy if I do say so myself.  Craig said the balls tasted just like his dad's.  Seems I not only married an Italian, I can fake cooking like one.  Yay me.

Christmas day, the plan was for Kidlet and I to open our presents as usual, have our Christmas breakfast and then she would head back up north to spend the day with her best friend and her family.
Opening presents was fun for all, including Pippin who thought Christmas was all about him:

Under the best present ever category, Kidlet bought us two tickets to see Wicked in Orlando in March.  I have ALWAYS, wanted to see that play.  Kidlet, you are the BEST.

Under the most absurd category:  Kidlet's super socks complete with capes.  Oh yes, I did:

And the fun went on with bobble headed Yoda and Jabba the Hut and much more.

When it became time for Kidlet to get ready to leave, she got a text from Jennie, who is nine months pregnant and exhausted, could they please postpone.  Triple YAY, I got Kidlet for the entire day.  I was not especially looking forward to being alone on Christmas although I had several offers of food, wine and cheeriness.

The only problem was not enough time to get the Prime Rib in the oven for dinner, but since it was already planned for Wednesday night, no biggie, trust me, there were plenty of leftovers.

I shot off a text to Stacie to wish her Merry Christmas and she decided to join us for dinner.  Give me another huge YAY!!!!

So here's the thing.  Yes, we missed the 9TS.  Desperately.  But things worked out.  I prefer to think he was up there orchestrating the entire thing:  from the perfect gravy to Kidlet and Stacie joining in for dinner.  Well done my sloth.  Well done.

just because . . .

acceptance . . .

I'm really proud of Kidlet.  She's had a very hard road.

Last night we went to a grieving seminar by Dr. Alan Wolfelt.  Just before he started talking, Kidlet and I agreed to count to ten before we beat the feet out of the hall.  I got my forth finger straightened out when Kidlet nudged me and hissed, "give him a chance, mom."

And so we listened to this very insightful man.  For two hours  . . . which seemed like mere minutes.  and when he was done, Kidlet went up to chat with him.

Later in the parking lot, Kidlet announced she was tired of hiding her feelings and  . . .   well this post on her Facebook, which i asked her to email to me since we are not friends on FB,  will explain it all:

And there it is in a nutshell.  So on top of mourning the loss of her dad, and having depression, and ADD, and mourning the loss of her fine motor skills from a newly introduced familiar tremor, and having difficulty with a little course called Advanced Calculus, she shattered.  Wouldn't you?

Last week she spend five days in the hospital while all the Kings Horses and all the Kings men, tried to put Kidlet together again.  She is a work in progress and it's not easy for either of us.

But last night was a really good first step.  She's not hiding her illness anymore because she thought she should.  I am so proud of her for standing up and telling the world what her life is like. And if the world doesn't understand.  Well, you know what I say!!!  Will this be magic like snapping your fingers and it all goes away.  No.  This will be a life long struggle but she knocked down one barrier and again, just a little bit louder, I AM SO PROUD OF HER!!!!!!

Kidlet, I love you~

just call me . . .

fang.

at La's yesterday, i popped my last bite of delicious sammie into my mouth and bit down on something hard.  now there aren't many options in chicken, spinach and tomato wrapped in ciabatta bread with spiced mayo and vinegar reduction.  and when my tongue confirmed a gaping hole, i knew the landscape of my mouth had been altered in the least fashionable way.

as i rushed to the little girls room, my poor tongue ran against a razor sharp edge.  ouch.  ensconced in front of the mirror, the truth sunk in.  my frontish cap had broken down vertically.  my two rather large front rabbit teeth were now flanked by a fang.  a sharp pointed fang.  Gah!!!!

i flew to the dentist who kindly made me an appointment for this morning.  meanwhile of course, i had a meeting yesterday afternoon that could not be broken.  i made sure not to sneer, growl, drool or do anything else that might reveal my new lycanthropic tendencies.

7:45 a.m. and there i was, plopped head down in the dentist chair while he took out his hammer, chisel and pliers and removed what was left of my old cap, drilled the tooth to an even smaller peg and stuffed me full of goop with which to make my new impression.

8:45 a.m. and i am home with a temporary crown and a hole in my pocketbook.  i think i deserve a nap.

at play . . .

you can take away my television, my iphone, and iTunes but do not touch my photoshop!

comings and goings . . .

Saturday, we tried to get some stuff done outside that has been needing doing.  You know, the gutters cleaned, the driveway pressure washed, a big old ugly bush that thinks it wants to move into the garage, removed, a bird house nailed back up on the tree . . . stuff.

we got off on a rough note when the nozzle of the hose refused to come off so it could be attached to the pressure washer.  after fussing with it for half an hour, we called defeat and pulled off the second hose from the pool deck, but meanwhile, we started hacking at the bush monster that was infiltrated with asparagus grass . . . think major prickers.

what had once been one bush had multiplied to five and getting its roots out proved tricky, especially when one particular swing of the axe brought up bubbling water.  ut oh.  trouble in river city.  at first we thought it was part of the sprinkler system . . . we should be so lucky.  it was the water main.  yup, we sliced and diced the main.  the city wouldn't come out because they are not responsible for anything past the meter.  thank you very much city of my dreams.

it should be told that i only have problems requiring the help of a plumber on weekends.  sigh.  Jorge was inundated but came over to turn off the meter and promised to be back in the afternoon.  he was not happy with the root system that would need to be cleared out before he could fix the pipe.

five people against one bush.  the bush was winning.  but we managed to get out two of the five root systems around the break before Jorge returned.  color him happy.  it didn't take him long to actually get the water going again.  hooray.

the side walk is no longer black and moldy.  instead, it is pristine and walkable.  the troops will return on Saturday to finish up. 

in other news, it has been coolish here of late.  any excuse for a fire works for me.  i still have a half cord from last winter and it is perfectly aged and starts up easily.  the only thing missing was fat wood and it arrived last night by Big Brown.  marshmallows are on my shopping list. we are good to go til spring.

yesterday was, be nice to me day.  yoga, lunch with Joanie and a 90 minute massage i had bought last summer from Groupon.  a little supper.  a little wine.  kidlet home.  perfecto.

this morning Pip's radar went off early.  she smelled a rat.  and hid.  a seven pound cat is not easy to flush out from under a king sized bed when she has heard the word:  V E T.  finally captured and caged . . . poor baby . . . we headed off for her yearly checkup.  she is happily one very healthy beastie.

and with that said, i am crawling back under the covers.  wake me come April.

Trial of the Century

We the jury find the defendant, Bear, guilty on the misdemeanor charge of: withholding cuddles.

We the jury find the defendant, Ninja, guilty on the felony charge of: withholding cuddles.

We the jury find the defendant, Pippin, guilty on the manslaughter charge of: withholding all the cuddles.

...
...
...

I want my cuddles, damnit!

- Kidlet

it was and it wasn't . . .

8:15 a.m., i was in the kitchen wrestling with the T, filling his gut with a hot mixture of breading, broth, spices, celery and onions.  meanwhile his giblets were bubbling softly with veggies, bay leaves and more broth.

9:00 a.m. and the dip was made, brownies dripping with caramel cooling, salad and veggies prepped, deviled eggs cooling.

another load of laundry, dishwasher running, floors mopped.

finally i settle down with a mug of swisse mocha and call aunt ida to check up on her.  aunt ida is the 9TS's favorite aunt.  she's in her late 80's/early 90's and lives in jersey.  spunky.  caring. fragile.  out of the blue, she tells me how she was listening to glenn miller albums one night as was her custom and she started to not feel well.  as she headed off to grab an aspirin, she did a dance step or two.  her son, jackie shouted, "you go, mama" while her husband jake, chorused in with "swing it, ida."  

problem is, jackie died ten years ago and jake's been gone for twenty.  and no, i had not shared my thoughts on visitations, but dammit, i want mine.

11:30 a.m. in the shower.

12:30 p.m.  removing mr. T's tent and taking his temperature.  peeling taters.

12: 40 p.m. popping the brussel sprouts into the oven.

as the minutes tick by, the asparagus and mac and cheese also find their way into the oven, the turkey comes out, gravy is made, taters are mashed, turkey is carved . . . it was a three person enterprise . . . ham sliced, drinks poured.  cranberry sauce jiggling.  yes it had can marks decorating its side.

jackie pulled me aside and whispered that joe requested not to be seated at the 9TS's place at the head of the table.  check.  craig pulls me aside and requests not to be seated at the head of the table, his old seat would be much appreciated. check.  a quick rearrangement of seating and we are all stuffed along the sides with craig and the far end where he belongs.  the 9TS was definitely there in spirit if we had anything to say about it.

and so we noshed and chattered and laughed and noshed some more.  then with little room left, out came the lemon meringue and pumpkin pies and the brownies.  burb!

and so when the last of family left at 7:00 something, i realized we had made it through our first Thanksgiving without the 9TS.  it wasn't easy but sharing the loss among the seven of us made it seem less daunting.  kidlet was right.  it wasn't the same but we were forging new traditions.  thank you oh wise, kidlet.

the simple things . . .

Joe the barber and my 9TS.

best dressed . . .

what do you do when your fur coat isn't quite stylish or warm enough? 

you add a boa: 

with the help of your big brother.

and that's how you stay warm and on the best dressed list.

if i ruled the world . . . part one

it would not be dark at 5:39 p.m., standard time or no. good grief, charlie brown.

when you open the fridge and can't remember why, there would be a post-it letting you know.

butter, goat cheese and sour cream would have no calories. 

red wine would be the basis of the food pyramid. 

there would be no melanoma, Les would be free and clear and the 9TS would be here beside me.

peace, health and happiness would be a way of life.

bear would stop beating up on poor ninja.

cat litter would change itself.

achoo . . .

woke up this morning full of energy and attacked my bedroom closet.  one huge bag for Goodwill and one huge bag for the garbage man.

under the category of things i thought i needed, but finally trashed.

old broken shoes that can't be fixed.
sweaters from the 90's.  yes, really.
a midi length jean skirt that would fit neither up my hips or over my head. ouch.
the ugliest pair of Ugg sandals ever.  still shaking my head over that buy.
suit jackets with huge padded shoulders. is football season over yet?
a pair of cute red flats that rub me the wrong way.  literally.
7,293 dust bunnies. normal.
12 broken hangers.
and three dead catnip mice.
anything size 6 or smaller.  i should toss all the 8's too but i am an optimist.

under the category of things i know need to be chucked but can't

heels i will probably never wear again.  and if i did, i'd have to buy outfits to go with them.
1980's era flight suit.  still hoping to fit in it again, just to say i could.  then toss.  promise.
my black 1980's original converse high tops.  still love them.  madly.
steel toed Georgia boots.  don't ask.
my old dr. scholl's sandals. look at least i don't have any buffalo sandals hanging around.
various sentimental shreds.
a grubby pair of water shoes from our last cruise.  

but i made a dent and that's what counts.

robin rocks . . .

so much fun!

next time we kayak???

remembering when . . .

going backwards in time with a new template by Katie Pertiet:

Bonifacio, France on the island of Corsica. 

ah!! found a better one:

 two happy lushes! thanks for taking the picture, kidlet.  those were the days . . .

adventures in snow white land . . .

robin decided a visit to Gamble Place . . . think Proctor and Gamble . . . would be perfect for today's adventure.  in all of the years i have lived in the area, i had never been there  . . .  even after hearing about Snow White's cottage.

so we hopped in the car and made it down there for the 10:00 tour.  slight problem.  politics.  with no available funding, the retreat is no longer open to the public and falling to ruins.  after chatting with one of the employees and voicing our disappointment, he shuffled his feet a tad and told us that there was no fence on the north side of the locked gate.  hummmm, thought robin and i.  hummmm, indeed.  getting arrested is on my bucket list.  not high, you understand but nevertheless there.  a little trespassing might be just the ticket . . . and off we wandered.   tromping through the woods, over fallen trees and bypassing palmetto scrub until we arrived at the complex. 

first on our list?  snow white's cottage.  Upon James Gamble's death, the spread was left to his daughter Maud and son-in-law, Judge Albert Nippert. Three months after Maud's death in 1937, Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs was released.  Judge Nippert was so enamored with the movie, he designed a replica of the movie cottage for the youngsters in the family. 

 and the wishing well:

but since we were obviously trespassing, imagine my shock when i peeked in a window and came face to face with this guy:

who turned out to be a cut out of James Gamble.  Yikes.  See Jeanne jump.

not to be outdone, it was See Robin jump when she ambled into a snake sunning himself on a rock.

and actually, we ran into lots of animals.  this was a very friendly welcome cat:

Archimedes:

one of 35 resident peacocks:

the cockiest of the thirty five:

and a pen full of roosters and hens:

after visiting all of the buildings, we decided it had warmed up sufficiently to go water biking.  yup, you read that right.  robin and climbed on pontoon water bikes and took off down the river. 

we actually did quite well until we saw a huge gator slither down off the bank on which he was sunning and drop down into the water . . . the same water we were navigating upon.  discretion being the better part of valor, we decided to turn around and beat a hasty retreat.  problem?  it is not easy to turn around on pontoons.  you sort of have to do a modified K turn with lots of backing up and going forward.  not the preferred method when trying to leave behind a scaled monster tout de suite.

all and all it was a fabulous adventure.  i hope my butt and knees agree in the morning.  thanks, robin for a great day out of the cave.

a cutie patootie . . .

is she not adorable?!?!?!

50/50 . . .

i had my bi-monthly visit with my shrink this morning.  in the midst of our chatter, i mentioned an article i had read a few days ago by Oliver Sacks, a noted neurologist and author.   in the squib about his latest book, he wrote that fully 50% of all bereaved people have "comforting visits" from their dearly departed.  "Hallucinations don’t belong wholly to the insane." he explains. 

my doctor meanwhile is nodding in agreement until i told her i felt cheated.  where were my hallucinations?  i want a visit from the 9TS.  i mean, dear Lord, i had a 50/50 chance and still nada.  go figure.

i love hallucinations, like the time they gave me phenergan in the hospital to offset the nausea from some pain medication.  i'm having a conversation with the doctor while watching a nonexistent exit sign outside the door fade away into oblivion.  evidently i was grinning because the doctor asked me if i was hallucinating and asked if i wanted something to combat it.  hell, no, i don't want them to stop.  this is the best fun since the um, 60's . . .

anyway, my shrink, who is quite used to me by now, cracks up and almost falls out of her chair laughing.  "In other words, you want me to give you an hallucinogenic, so you can chat with the 9TS?", she sputtered between bouts of the giggles.  "This is a first.",  she guffawed, water leaking from her eye lids. 

no, i don't want drugs, i just want to be in the other 50%.   i'm tired of the one way conversations in this house.  i want my sloth to be able to respond.  is that too much to ask?

she quickly moved the conversation on to other things.  sigh.

tuesday . . .

does it get any better?

bearly awake . . .

why was i grocery shopping at 7 something this morning?  because Bear didn't understand the time change.  he only knew he was hungry.  ever try to sleep with a twenty pound lunk breathing in your face? i love you Bear, just not so much so early.

but, since i was awake, i went shopping and got home in time to catch a 4. something mile walk with Joanie.

two loads of laundry, a tango with the vacuum cleaner, and a bath later, i conked out. 

please Bear, let me sleep tomorrow morning. 

love mom.

artsy fartsy . . .

i love the fall down here.  besides the gorgeous weather, there is something going on every weekend.  today's offering was an art show down along the river. 

not sure what you'd do with them but i love the whimsy.

our fine feathered friends were in attendance as well.

a bird of a different feather.

you have to admit, it's better than snow and ice.

 of course there was food. there is always food.  slurp.

and that's it in a nutshell.  we drove home with the top down. 

how i spent $12 walking for my health . . .

I'm on tonight, my hips don't lie
And I'm starting to feel you boy
Come on let's go, real slow
Baby, like this is perfecto

Oh, you know I'm on tonight and my hips don't lie
And I'm starting to feel it's right
The attraction, the tension
Baby, like this is perfection

Shakira, my hips don't lie either, we're just speaking a different language . . . oh boy and how.  Joanie and i, due to some scheduling conflicts, had a few weeks off from our walking.  this on top of an entire summer spent in the pool rather than trekking in the heat.  the weather last week was stunning and we over did it.  five miles meant we were both up in the middle of the night with aching hips.  although we were loathe to stop, we came to the sensible decision to slow down and work back up to five miles gradually.  very, very gradually.

so this morning we took off for what was meant to be a three miler and things were going great until we hit a garage sale.  why am i such a sucker for other peoples junk?  i have my own.  tons of it.  it overflows from every closet, shelve, nook and cranny, it sloughs out from under beds . . . but i am inexplicably drawn to my neighbors trash. 

this time, it was a chandelier.   and it came with a history.  apparently, it was hung and lit at a party and all was going smashingly until a guest felt hot wax dripping down onto his pate.  not the type of soothing spa treatment he might have expected.  no wonder they were ridding themselves of this instrument of torture.

i kept staring at it.  i kept coming back to it.  i convinced myself i needed it.  we asked politely if they would hold it until we could sidle back home for the needed cash and return with the miata.  they of course, with visions of ridding themselves of the monstrosity, nodded their agreement.  i caught sight of them ringing their hands in glee.

it just fit in the trunk of the miata with nary and inch to spare . . . the culprit candles and all.

our exercise thus having been disrupted, we stashed the goods along with a $2 copy of Pioneer Woman Cooks and took off in another direction to finish our abbreviated walk.

what happened to said chandelier you ask?  i found it a home in the same room as my new door snake, the much munched tree and my parents antique dining room table:

just pretend you don't see the leather elephant in the corner or the monkey hook hanging from the ceiling.

can you think of a better way to display your $10 find.   hey, i hear you snickering . . .

i've been a little sporadic lately and i apologize but i have an excuse or two or three. 

my first and least favorite was the funk i fell into for a couple or more days.  i'm usually fairly funk-resistant but this one sneaked up and sat on my head until i couldn't breathe.  i'll spare you the details.

my second excuse is even more far fetched.  my newest 'project' has been a month long diary/smash book detailing my adventures through the month of october.  i'd been working on the physical book since September but putting the actual events in blog form on my mac until the book was ready to have the dailies transferred over.  posting seemed rather redundant at the time until excuse #3 came knocking.

my mac blew its hard drive.  kaplooey!  gray screen of death.  nada.  while i had it backed up to Time Machine, it was only set for weekly, which was a life saver for jpegs, .pngs and documents but not so hot when you just lost 1/3 of your monthly project.  that said, i am back.

******************************************************************************

Kidlet misses the beasties when she is up north so i share Pippin stories as they happen . . . which is fairly often.  Here's her newest escapade:

Joanie brought me a present today for watching her cats while she was away or as Kidlet gasped, "you got a prize for burning down their house?"  thanks, Kidlet.  thanks a lot.  anyway, it was a wondrous and whimsical door snake for the door between the dining room and the man cave, to staunch the flow of air caused by the contractors little oops when the addition was discovered to not quite be flush with the main house . . .

cute snake:

and yes, for you purists out there, i had to retake this picture after dark.

scaredy cat peeking though the bannister:

and flattened out getting closer:

she would not go any closer until Ninji arrived and walked right up:

enough for one day . . . .

the sky is blue!  now stay that way, please.

on another note, after our five mile walk and with no other reason to leave the house today, i have happily moved into my winter flannels.  i have missed you winter woolies.

twas a wild and wooly night . . .

to be meeting Sandy on the darkened roads from there to here.  huge oak crashed to the ground covering the exit from the black parking lot.  back roads taken, waves pounding, wind swirling, rain thrashing the little roadster.  up on the highway things faring even less well.  right lanes flooded, wind shield wipers beaten back, lights out, visibility missing.  thrusting wind. blinkers flashing. heart thrumming. trees bending, onward forging. finally haven found.  take that Miss. S.

and so went my trip back from my sister-in-laws birthday party.  tears formed when everyone yelled surprise and more when she discovered her sister had been smuggled in from Ohio for the affair.  the power wasn't always cooperative but fun and feasting were aplenty.

happy birthday, jackie!

a cautionary tale . . .

this morning i got up early, jumped in the tub, put on my face and got ready to run down to the Iceplex in Rockledge to watch a grand nephew play hockey.  but first i needed to feed and love on Joanie's cats, who i have been babysitting for the last week.

as i was almost to her front door, i smelled smoke.  no surprise, the temperatures f.i.n.a.l.l.y, hit the 60's and i figured someone decided to have a fire.  went inside and played with the beasties and fed them their kibble and happened to look out in the back yard and noticed the steam coming up from the earth as the sun started to clear the trees.  then i looked again. and again.  

i tried to reach Joanie and failing that, called for reinforcements:  kidlet, her dad and the fire department, in that order.

the fire was still smoldering but out.  lucky. lucky. so lucky it was not worse.

 moral of the story?  joanie may never ask me to cat sit again. sniff. sniff. waaaaaaa.

complex activities . . .

i fell in love with the restoration of the lighthouse at Ponce Inlet.  The entire complex is stunning with displays of old articles including an exhibit on the children of the lighthouse.  Most of the buildings are completed and if you can't wander through them, at least you can peek in the homes of the keeper, first assistant keeper and second assistant keeper.  very, very cool.

here are some more shots:

 please note the little red miata in the parking lot.  she is normally camera shy.

 there is nothing i don't love about this room.

 i'm moving in as soon as it is fully restored.

 two bedrooms and a small kitchen.  more than enough.

 oops, i have no idea what this is or why i took the shot.

 the main building is now a gift shop of course.  i'd have to evict the nautical junk and lock the doors.

of course if it was to be found, i would find it.  rest in peace little buddies.

and then there was this:

it's a very complex situation.  i need to move in now . . .  you understand.

up the down staircase . . .

we marched up all 203 steps, huffing and puffing the entire way.  well, so it was just me doing the huffing and puffing and stopping at every landing.  Robin managed quiet well, thank you very much.  the top photo is looking up, the second looking down. 

Ponce Inlet Lighthouse.

I'm thinking this is not the best advertisement to find near the bottom of the climb:

who cares if it was overcast and raining.  we explored the entire complex and then moved on for fish sammies under the bridge.  we are the best trolls yet.