seasonal changes or how to explain the stock market . . .

thought it would be nice to get the air conditioning/heat serviced before the weather changes.  not that it matters all that much since my fireplace and i are such good friends but still it's nice to know things are running well.

it seems i was also checking up on the alarm company when i let the a/c guy in before turning off the system.  bet my neighbors like me at 8:00 a.m.  not.

and then came the calls.  to the pool company to change to every other week, to the lawn service for the same reason, to the pest control company to figure out how much i owe them since it appears i paid the last bill twice.  gah. to the pharmacy for some more drugs.

and then a return trip to barberville.  did i ever fully explain how small barberville is?  this is their post office.  i don't think there is a town other than the crossroads:

right next to the junk store:

as i'm walking in the gate, i find joanie smoozing with the cattle:

and then two-timing the poor bull with the bear.

no wonder the market is so crazy.  stop it joanie . . . right now!!!!

slug redux . . .

must be something in the water.

i have no excuse.  but at least i got the morning walk sandwiched in between bouts of slugdom.  and my EHD is plugged in so i'm off to play with some photos.

did i share this from lunch with the hens on friday?

it's tough living close to the ocean.

some days . . .

you just have to chill.

i woke up early to feed the beasties and texted joanie to nix our walk, rolled over and went back to sleep until almost noon.  sometimes, you just gotta do what you gotta do.  after some on-line retail therapy yesterday, i spent some time playing on photoshop:

did a couple, three loads of laundry and took a  . . . gasp . . . nap.

just call me slug.

i can't stop laughing . . .

this is so me.

i really like the lady in the bottom left hand corner, licking her shin with her leg up.  i've taken lessons in that since i was about nine and got my first cat.  perfect.

and speaking of felines, i am letting the cat out of the bag . . .  on friday the 18th, i am having lunch with les and brent!!!! for real.  actually.  truth!!!!  i am so excited i may pop and fly around the room until limp and exhausted.  yes, i will.

happy t day one and all . . .

these from last night:

white chocolate chip snicker doodles compliments of kidlet.  she made them for her work party this evening.  she goes in at 11:00 p.m. and home at 2 a.m. and back in at 7:00 until noon friday.

let the craziness begin.  tom is stuffed and in the oven.  more stuffing in a casserole dish, giblets, onion, celery, bay leaves simmering in chicken broth on the stove, garlics for the mashed taters are roasting in the upper oven, first load of dishes done.  salad made and waiting for dressing.  fresh sweet tea cooling.  as soon as the timer goes off, the gravy broth gets strained, the garlic comes out and tom gets covered up.

once the kitchen floor is mopped, it's break time until the last minute flurries of veggies, rolls and turkey carving.

it's a good, good life!!!!

good morning sunshine . . .

an excerpt from facebook this morning.

"A little back story, Bear, my big Maine Coon does not like my black cat, Ninja.  As kittens, they got along but once they grew up, they were sworn enemies.  Since we had a cold snap, I washed Ninja's bed which Bear has a habit of urinating on and set it up on the corner of my bed with a crib mattress protector under it and went to bed.  All three usually snuggle with me, but last night, I apparently flew solo.  Woke up this morning to that familiar stench of cat urine.  Not having yet put on my glasses, I reached over, grabbed the bed and tilted it towards me to get a whiff.  I got a bath instead.  EWWW!  Roast turkey, ham and poached cat on tomorrow's menu.  Washing machine going at full tilt."

i enlisted kidlet to dry the dishes, clean the litter and listened to her beg for bear's life to be saved.  she brought in the trash, ate the discarded egg whites, took out the recyclables and generally helped out.

this afternoon we'll attack the tumbleweed hair tufts and the litter strewn floor.  life is outstanding.

hey, at least i woke up this morning.  took off to pick up the piglet and i may have noshed a little.  made the triple chocolate brownies, and the deviled eggs.  i may have noshed a little.  made the dips.  and did two loads of stinky laundry.  two loads of dishes.  glued a plate back together that crashed and burned several months ago.

update:  

picking up cat toys from the dining room floor . . . went to grab the green one and it skittered up the wall.  good thing kidlet doesn't mind chameleons.  

plate crashed off the wall again and into the trash it went.

reload . . .

the fire is going again.  they delivered a truck load yesterday.  oak and a few pine logs for fat wood.  that was so sweet of him.  he had no way of knowing that living in florida, i import my fat wood from l l bean.  yup, i have yuppie fat wood.  there's a little alligator on each piece.

and i switched up the wine for a rum and coke.  sometimes you just have to go with the flow.  my other favorite is scotch on the rocks.  did i ever tell you about my forty year plus abstention from scotch?  it was the thing that filled the flasks that fit in the back pocket of high school boys and college men.  serendipitously sipped in the movies or openly glugged at house parties . . .   we wrote odes to cutty sark and black and white.  modified guzzlers were we.  in my junior year, i was headed to a weekend ski party in the catskills and my forever 50's loving father supplied me with a bottle of scotch for the duration.  i know, i know, what was he thinking but then again, it was 1969, i think  he thought giving his daughter a bottle was the lesser of two evils.

we arrived at my date's friend's 'cabin' in the woods.  twenty bed rooms, we counted.  a fireplace big enough to walk into.  hand laid parquet floors, maids quarters, butler's pantries, dumb waiters.  who'd a thunk the unassuming owners son was a swell.

out popped the scotch and a liquor store other bottles, and sometime after numerous runs down the private toboggan run, we sat in front of the fire happily imbibing and imbibing and imbibing.  nowadays, i think it's called alcohol poisoning, to us it was a next morning death wish.  forty hung over college idiots worshipping the porcelain goddess and laying on cold tile floors.  the dead men were tossed in trash bags and hauled off property in lieu of his parents impending arrival that monday.

it was so bad, just a whiff of scotch and my stomach would clench.  i avoided it like the plague.  then suddenly, after the passing of my father, i found myself bequeathed with a bottle of chivas regal.  i let it be and the dust collected.  one dark and stormy night, it was all that was left in my meager cabinet.          oh the glory of scotch over ever so slightly melted rocks.  heaven on earth. the game was on.

of course then there are bloody mary's and miller lite but that is the extent of my usual consumption.  we won't talk about amounts.

wishing you all a warm and toasty eve.

oh joy . . .

i'm sitting in front of this:

sipping a glass of cabernet and waiting for another class to start.

color me warm and toasty!

tis the season . . .

having braved the crowds at publix, tom is now tucked in my fridge ready for thursday along with all the usual suspects.  i just need to send kidlet into the lion's den on wednesday for the pumpkin pie and then to honey baked ham for piglet.  dinner is on!!!!

i long ago realized that i have to pace myself for the holidays.  no way can i cook and clean and then appear in some semblance of order in time to feed the hungry hoards if i try to get it all done on thursday.  there is not enough wine and ativan to make that work. ever.

and so i will start tomorrow and clean upstairs.  my version that is . . .  a lick and a promise and some bab-o.

tuesday i'll hit the downstairs with the exception of the kitchen floor because as soon as i clean it, something will hop off the stove or pole vault out of the fridge and do a smash and splatter all over it.

wednesday i'll start the food prep making brownies, deviled eggs and the like.

thursday morning tom gets stuffed in the oven, all hell breaks loose, the floor gets scrubbed and i get tipsy.

friday i collapse in a heap of left over comfort food all smothered in home-made gravy . . . luckily, kidlet has not discovered the attributes of stuffing and leaves it all for me . . . the turkey liver too.  slurp.  silly child.

yo . . .

my living room floor is mostly immaculate.  it may or may not have had something to do with a 16 ounce tervis full of sweet tea exploding in all directions.  i love my life.

needed to sneak in one more . . .

sounds . . .

there are train tracks that run about two and a half miles east of us.  while they are a jolly pain in the rear during the day if you're are caught at the crossings, they leave behind them a hauntingly beautiful song at night when the windows are open. you can hear their refrain miles before they rumble into town and then it fades as they march slowly in the opposite direction.  i always stop whatever i am doing when i hear the sweet blurry tones of their horns followed by the muted clatter of the rails. i miss these sounds when the house is closed up for the summer and i know winter is on its way when i hear the sounds anew.

they remind me of times past in the mid 60's when we would sneak out of boarding school and ride the train into the city, getting off at 9th and wandering down to the east village to the "dugout'.  the burgers were so big, my jaw could not open to accommodate all the goodness and i was forced to gnaw in stages through the deliciousness.  we'd grab an illegal beer from the unconcerned bartender and sit there in our khaki pants with madras shirts over turtlenecks and inhale the smell of freedom and happiness.

even younger, we would follow our parents into town on friday nights and stand by the tracks cocking our elbows and yanking them down waiting for the engineer to reciprocate with a pull of the whistle.

trains are bubbles of memory held in the mind.

because . . .

buying groceries because someone likes to eat.

returning six cans of cat food because someone is extremely picky.

getting lost in barnes and noble because it's so much fun.

having to go out again because someone forgot to stop at the pharmacy.

thinking about taking a nap because it's raining.

aarrrgh . . .

our very last meal at La's before it moves to its new location.  bittersweet.  i loved this old 1924 sears and roebuck home.

even if it did have a tiny kitchen, it served outrageously perfect morsels of goodness:

 our favorite table, number seven . . . happily reserved for us every tuesday"

the fireplace in what was the living room:

 the view out "our" window:

at least we will still have these two:

can't wait to see what their new digs look like.  slurp!

grrr . . .

now i know why some species eat their young.

namaste . . .

peace is where you find it . . .

after yesterday's shenanigans, i decided i was better off staying put today.  yes, we walked this morning but managed to stay out of trouble for the most part.

kidlet headed for points north for the weekend so i am snoodling around the cave doing a little of this and a lot of that and more decluttering.

as i'm listening to awesomely peaceful music of amrit kirtan, this runs true.

namaste.

hey, it's something new . . . i'm in . . .

so it's friday.  you know the routine.  yin yoga followed by lunch with the hens.  we decided on lunch down in oak hill at a restaurant called goodrich's  it had been featured on an episode of emeril lagasse.  yummo!  and of course it is on the water.  hey, it was something new . . . i'm in.

good food.  good friends.  good views.

last weekend at the art show, i ran into my friend judy, who being rather metaphysical, invited me to a women's meditational labyrinth walk with some of her friends at 3:30 today.  judy, who among other things, is a musician, would be playing her crystal bowls.  hey, it's something new . . . i'm in.

what a delightful group of eight women . . . seven of which i had never met before.  we chatted and then did the mediation and walk.  it was really quite relaxing and a quiet end to a stunning day.

o.k., here's where things get a little off kilter.  one of her friends is a massage therapist and psychic.  she does tarot card readings.  we went off to a nearby bench and she pulled out two decks.  she asked me to pick a pack and once i had done that, she said pick a number and i did.  she dealt out seven cards (my number) plus an extra card her guide requested.  now i have never met this woman before but she starts reading the cards and i start freaking out.  she starts telling me things about my life that i have shared with very few people and certainly not with her.  for half an hour, she tells me what has been going through my mind since july and that it is ok.  it was the most intense experience.  freaked me out to the max.

i'd shared it with kidlet when i got home and she wants a reading . . . maybe.

very odd experience.  hey, it was something new and i was all in.

whippersnappers, punks and otters . . .

joanie and i saw an otter playing in a pond an our walk today.  otters make me happy.

went to the dermatologist today.  i fared rather well if you don't count the script that is supposed to do the same thing as cryosurgery that i need to slather all over my chest, shoulders and face for two weeks.  this should be interesting.  then i asked him why my hair is turning into cotton candy and my nails are splitting, chipping and flaking.  "advanced age," said the whippersnapper.  good thing i like the little monster  but some day, one of his patients is going to haul off and nail him with their pocketbook or walker without blinking an eye  . . . gah.

and then there were these that just made me giggle:

 
  
and this that i just loved:

and finally this.  we all know who i mean:

namaste.

in flanders fields the poppies blow . . .

thought i would toss this in since it is, after all, veterans day:

yep, that's my dad.  we look startling alike except i have the milkman's pug nose.

he was the last of the all american good guys.  miss you big guy.

tall tales and reindeer noses . . .

i was hunting through old photos a couple of weeks ago and came upon some from college.  a little back story here.  my senior year, they had two off campus houses for women.  you needed twelve people to apply.  it was a big deal back in the day to be allowed to live off campus without a house mother.  so we gathered twelve seniors and juniors and went for it.  we were accepted.  the house had been the minister's manse in the not so distant past so it was in really great shape.  not that i can say the same now after years of having been a men's frat house but never mind.

come christmas, we all dressed up for a groups shot.  well,  most of us.  i must admit that my drummer was a little odd even back then:

that's us.  joie, diane, muffet, sally, phrumpie and jane on the back row and nancy, joanie, cyndee and carole up front.  kathy was photographer and that other creature, the reindeer? twas moi.  surprised.  i'm not.

here's a better look:

happy hooligan.

100 days of happiness . . .

a couple of things i have learned from this exercise:

the "why not" value of trying something new:  it looked like a win-win situation.  "why not" look for the good in myself as well as in other people.  "why not" find the happiness in each and every day.  why not!  i can tell you, it was certainly worth it from my end.

accountability:  it kept me engaged.  responsible to an end.  committed.  i need some structure sometimes or i find myself wandering in too many directions at once.  focus.  it gave me focus.

change of view:  it forced me to look at the world with a different eyes.  no, not everyday was perfectly happy but by having to dig some days to find that happiness, i had to put aside something not so perfect to make room.  tell me exactly why that is bad.  tis not.  finding happiness is so much healthier than wallowing in the miasma of self pity.  swap things up. enjoy your life.  the reasons are there.  look again.

and last but not least, because kidlet would say, 'did you update your blog yet?'  if it made her curiously happy, then i am too.

happiness to you all.

99 bottles of beer on the wall . . .

long sleepy day.

pulled chicken in gravy over rice.

sweet iced tea.

nose in a book.

snuggling cats.

these are a few of my favorite things.  all wrapped up in one day.

happiness.

98 . . .

up early this morning for our little hike around the neighborhood next door.  i had the brilliant idea to do our walk in the reverse order from how we normally walk.  yes, you can get lost.  sigh.

home to take an on-line class from twelve to two and then . . .

out the door for the art show downtown daytona.

i found this:

it's huge.  i can hide five cats in it.  it's black and white.  i love black and white.  and it reminds me of zentangles.  perfect right???

oh happiness.

97 . . .

last christmas, i broke down and promised kidlet we'd have a tree this year.  yeah, it's sort of been missing in action since we lost the 9TS.

i grew up with real trees.  i love them.  yes, i know they shed all over the floor and they're hard to maneuver, and they get sticky, and need to be watered, but i love them anyway. they smell sooooo good.   i finally gave into the 9TS, who grew up with fake trees, the year he wasn't feeling so hot.  that christmas the fake tree moved in with us.

the tree worked for several years.  and i have to admit, it was certainly easier to put up and take down, especially since the deal was that he would put it up and i would dress it.  we would spend the afternoon,  he went first while i sat in front of the fire sipping cocoa and then he would sit while i trimmed.  sometimes we could con kidlet into dressing the tree and we both sipped something a little stronger.  good times.

kidlet and i tried to set the tree up the winter after we lost the 9TS.  it was pitiful.  we couldn't get it together.  a string of lights was out and there was a cockroach.  the tree unceremoniously hit the trash.

since then, my heart just hadn't been in it and there hasn't been a christmas trees in the cave.  but every year, i would see the sadness in kidlet's eyes.  and so, last year i finally realized it wasn't all about me.

today, she picked up a tree.  it's seven feet and pre-lit.  her eyes are smiling.  it is time to let her be happy . . . and me too.

96 . . .

i probably shouldn't do this but i'm going to anyway:

i am thankful for the money to be able to go grocery shopping and a kitchen in which to cook.

i am thankful for the water and electricity that allows my washing machine and dryer to clean my clothes.  heck, i am thankful i don't have to pound them on a rock down by the river . . . thanks to miss merrup, my third grade teacher, for that tidbit. and of course i am thankful for the clothes on my back.  and soap and clean water and a tub.  bubble.

i am thankful for the home in which i sleep safely every night.

and for the car i use to noodle around town.

and for savings that allow me to retire.

and for my good health.

and for friends who carry me through.

and for kidlet who brings me great happiness.

and most of all for the memories of the 9TS.

being thankful makes me happy.  so there!

95 . . .

we had to take kidlet's car into the shop today for two recalls.  eek.  at least now she is driving a safe car again.  happiness.

so while we were out and about, we had lunch at sapporo's . . . kentucky rolls and onion soup. little cooked chicken fingers wrapped in mayo and onions, rice, and seaweed.  delish.

a quick trip to the thrift shop to drop off all of yesterdays goodies and her car was ready.

finally home and hungry again. pizza.

sometimes bad food choices just makes for blissful tummies.

94 . . .

good thing i love the smell of patchouli.  i dropped my vial and it smashed all over my bathroom sink.  the cats are hiding.  the cave smells wonderful.  happiness is a double edged sword.

only three more meals in my favorite restaurant until it up and moves to bigger digs.  it currently resides in an historic 1924 sears and roebuck home.  so full of charm.  so tiny.  12 tables. eight parking spots. who cares.  and in honor of the move, carlos, the owner of the business took us on the grand tour.   it has a basement.  who'd a thunk it.  nothing has basements this close to the ocean, or so i thought.  creepy.  houses seven standard sized refrigerators since the stair well is too narrow for a walk-in cooler.  and then we went upstairs to their private dining room.  seats 24.  and there is a bedroom/office up there and a bath with the original claw foot tub.  how cool is that?  i've always loved the fireplace in the living room.  can i just move in now?

their new location has plenty of parking and is huge inside.  la's chef, gron, did a pirouette in the new kitchen because she could.  in the old kitchen, she can barely breath.  since we currently eat in what was the dining room, with the kitchen adjoining, nancy and i can kibbutz with gron. i had to ask carlos if we would be allowed in the new kitchen tucked out of sight to chatter.  he said yes.  happiness.  table for two in the kitchen please.

93 . . .

happiness is paring down.  today i went through the breakfront and 86'd anything that wasn't either truly antique or a set.  out with old candles, table pads, trivets, candle holders and fragrances.  the dining room table is getting piled high.

then i moved into the kitchen cabinets and sacked old floral arrangement vases, odd salt and pepper shakers, mismatched bowls and tins.  who keeps this stuff.

more cabinets . . . the table is getting higher.  jackpot, an old christmas card with a fifty dollar bill in it.  more odd mugs, dead halloween goodies, old dish chargers, plastic drinking bottles out the wazoo.  cheese graters, wooden bowls.

into the hall closet and more for the table.  this is feeling really good.

now we have a little wiggle room.  happy.  happy.

92 . . .

sometimes when you keep trying you succeed.

someone shot for the moon and made it.  happy. happy.