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.