disconcerting . . .

remember the turkey buzzards in the dead tree behind the house?? . . they are multiplying. The other day I counted 25, yes TWENTY FIVE!!! And to make matters worse, it was a cold gray morning and snoop who wanted out for his daily patrol on the pool deck, was bombarded by the creepy birds. You could hear the wind passing their huge wing span. Neither snoop nor I trusted the cage screen so in he came. Ticked. The effect is not as great without the bad weather background but this is my morning view. Yuck!

lookie. lookie . . .

I have been searching for another piece of "storage" for the loft. . . yes, I know, I have way too many goodies, ergo the need for more storage. Who knew I had this much scrapbooking stuff stashed under the bed, in the closets, around the corner and under trees? I have dragged Frank to new furniture stores, used furniture stores, galleries and estate sales. Finally, Katie and I stumbled on the perfect piece at a junk shop on the way to the art show last weekend. So much better than anything I had seen before and the price was oh so right.

The only problem is painting it. I have always has this 'thing' about natural wood . . . leave it alone . . . painting wood is a mortal sin . . . catch my drift? And here I am with this piece. It is old . . . but not well constructed . . . we are guessing made by a farmer. It was originally designed as a secretary desk with a fold up writing surface that has long since been dismantled. You can still see where the hinges were and where it locked into place at the top. But, it is still what I was looking for and I am a happy camper. All except for the painting part. The loft is blue and white . . . so my new piece will be painted white and it is freaking me out. Sigh. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

my head is spinning . . .

I am a week behind in my digi class and trying desperately to catch up, (the classes are available forever, I am just a tad OCD). In this lesson, we learned how to:

Create a new blank Photoshop document
Add a patterned paper background
Copy and enlarge a focal photo
Create a title using two fonts
Create a semi-transparent, outlined journaling block
Cut digital patterned paper to a specific size
Create a three-photo accent block
Add a grungy-edged overlay and set its blending mode to Soft Light

I am so lost but at the same time so excited. This digi stuff is so cool. But I am beginning to feel a little schizophrenic as I am working on a paper project at the same time as the digi lessons. ACK. Honestly, if you are the least bit interested in getting your feet wet in digi, you need to check out Jessica Sprague's classes. They are so well defined. Now if my brain was just a tad more retentive, things would be fine.

change . . .

As I approach my 60's, things change: styles change . . . body's change . . . attitudes change. I'm talking about blue jeans, the mainstay of my closet for now well over 50 years. I am the definition of the "barefoot and blue jeans kid". In the 50's my jeans were flannel lined, rolled up to make a cuff until I grew into them, in the 60's they had 2.5" zippers, sat on my nonexistent hips, had wide bells and dragged on the ground. In the 70's they were long and lean and tight, worn with heels, (oh how that amused my father), in the 80's I discovered painters pants and took a quick hiatus, in the 90's LLBean won my heart and I stayed in mom jeans for way too long, which of course brings us to the new century and me still in mom jeans.

It was time for a change. My first foray into the modern world of jeans was an eye opener to say the least. My hips are not just no longer nonexistent, they are prominent . . . my derriere which used to perkily follow behind has now dropped a story or two and my thighs now fit that old cliche: thunder. Add a little cellulite and you have the full picture and it is not pretty. Back to the mall . . . the first couple of pairs I tried on went up the legs but put on the brakes at the hip line. Pairs 18 and 19, managed to scale the hips but missed closing around my burgeoning waist by several inches. What had happened to my size 4's? Where did my 6's go? I don't even remember 8's, I think I just shot though to 10. I finally found a pair of size 10's that met the basic requirements until I bent over. OMG, I could give those construction workers whose pants never seem to cover their . . . um . . . cracks, a run for their money. I ran out of the store.

Dragged by my sister-in-law and daughter, we tried again. This time we found a pair that actually fit, pulled off a back shelf, covered in dust by the sales waif who to her credit, did not giggle. By today's standards, they fit. Sort of. They covered everything that needed to be covered, were not grungy and could be worn with heels for all those events I never attend. I bought them. And another pair I found several days later.

But yesterday, Katie and I went to the annual outdoor art show. I love this show and the weather was perfect. Fall has finally hit our neck of the woods. So as I headed for my new jeans, I realized there was no way I walking the show in heels . . . and I wasn't rolling them up. Panic stuck, I tried on my mom jeans . . . still to tight in the waist and miserably uncomfortable. What to do???? I finally dived into my collection and discovered half buried at the bottom, a pair of men's, Levi's jean painter pants . . . they not only fit, they were comfy, they sat on those hips but covered the necessities. Were they stylish . . . NO. Was Katie frantically telling me the new jeans were fine . . . yes. Did she suggest I apply to "What Not To Wear"? Yes. Did I budge? N0. So off we went. Katie in her teeny tiny low cut size miniature jeans and me in my oh so comfortable, oh so outdated jeans and flip flops. Were they perfect for our lunch break of hot dogs and root beer on the grass along the river, you betcha!!!! Am I ever going to change. Probably not. I am a happy camper and intend to stay that way. Now that is attitude!

we're back . . .

Never mind the Nor'easter or Tropical Storm Noel . . . the blinding rain, high winds, radical drop in temperature. . . we ran away. It was great. I mean GREAT. The weather actually broke late on our first night. But back to the beginning. There we were watching TV in bed . . . BORED. So half heartedly, I said, time to run away again. Got a huge smile on that one, so while he finished watching some football game, I threw a dart at my computer screen and landed on a boutique hotel on St. Simons Island next to the light house.

I never really did understand what a boutique hotel was. Now I know. It's a hotel where each room is different. Ours was full of antiques. The armoire was stunning. But, so was the new price tag complete with bar code. Seems antiques cost $860. Giggle. And you could actually own this room full of barely aged antiques for a mere $220,000. Thankfully, they lent it to us for two nights for a heck of a lot less . . . it being off season and all.

St. Simons Island is a really neat place. The most popular form of transportation seems to be bicycles. There are bike paths from the village at one end to Fort Frederica on the other. In between are gorgeous homes old and new, fun shopping (yes I did some damage), churches galore and wonderful restaurants.

The next day we decided to head over to the more famous Jekyll Island. It has an amazing collection of old monies homes now restored but not much more. Then we accidentally stumbled across the driftwood trees on the north end of the island. I was in awe. What a wonderful spot.

After heading back to St. Simons, we tried to visit Sea Island. Nope. It is private, private, private. They unceremoniously showed us the door. Ouch!!!

The next day, on our way home, we got to have lunch with my one and only. What could be better. Oh, yeah, that's Frank with one of the goodies from Katie's halloween package.

So now we are back home, watching TV in bed again. Happier. More content. Until next time.

ut oh . . .

All this talk about the size of Bear's feet and his fluffy tail and now the very beginnings of a ruff, are sparking even more comments about being at least part Maine Coon, so what's a girl to do but google. This is the very first shot of a Maine Coon that comes up!!!!!Oh my gosh. When I said there would be more to love, I was talking more cat . . . . you could saddle this beastie. Look at him. He's the size of golden retriever!!!!! Yikes! I think we're going to need a larger pantry!!!

air bones . . .

Since the kittens are rescue animals, we have no idea exactly when they were born or under what circumstances. We are just grateful to have them. The vet is guessing Bear was born in May and Ninja in June, about a month apart. But the original thought was that Bear was much older because of his size. He has paws the envy of a small elephant. Not until they found out how many baby teeth were still intact did she tell me we had a soon to be mamouth beastie on our hands. Sounds good to me . . . more cat to love. Ninja, on the other hand, is neat and petite. Tiny squirrel feet. So why when Bear is more than double her size, does he weigh not much more??? Air Bones. He is rangy with no body mass whatsoever . . . the only possible conclusion is bones made from air. He is light as a feather. You can hear her running . . . clomping . . . down the hall, he wisps past her in single bounds . . . quiet, muffled bounds.