Sunday, July 15, 2012

An Evening of Note

Last Thursday I was running behind.  I had picked up a few items at Big Lots then ran home to take the FLB* for a walk and feed him, then rushed out to my monthly Book Club meeting.  Rush Rush Rush.  When I got home from Book Club I was surprised because the FLB* didn't come to the door to greet me.  For one second I was concerned.

"Harley?"  I stood in the laundry room.  Silence.

I walked into the kitchen.  No Harley.  I walked into the dining room and saw the reason for the silence.  My Big Lots bag was torn open and a bag of spaghetti (yes, dried whole wheat spaghetti) was open and there was a pile of pasta on my dining room floor.  Really?  Harley was hunkered down in his crate staring at me.

"Seriously, Harley?" I said.  "You ate dried pasta?  How did you even know it was a food item?  I left it on the dining room chair because I was in a hurry and you thought you could snack!?"

Harley stared at me from his crate.  He ALWAYS takes the 5th.

Later....about 9:30 or 10:00pm we went for a walk.  It was dark - I think it was a new moon because it was really dark.  We strolled down the driveway and up the street.  We stopped at poop island and Harley took care of business.  A car drove by and I flinched as something cold and wet seemed to splash on my leg.

Here's the conversation between my brain stem and the reasoning part of my brain:

Stem:  "Yikes, that car just splashed me - my pants are wet."
Reason:  "There was no sound of splashing and it hasn't rained in a week."
Stem:  "But my leg feels cold and wet here at my thigh....and here on my knee.  Like water dripping?"
Reason:  "But the car was 20 feet away and there was no splash and there are no puddles..."
Stem:  "But my leg has cold and wet spots...(and my hand is now patting my baggy capris frantically)...
Reason:  "uh...."
I grunt, scream and dance.....
Something leaps from near my foot into the grass at poop island....A FROG!!!!!

More grunting....dancing....and jerking....and patting my pants compulsively all the way home.

Now...the part that keeps me did he get all the way up to my thigh...without me knowing it?

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Planning for September 2012!

One of my favorite authors is Edna Buchanan.  She is a former reporter for both the Miami News and the Miami Herald.  As a crime reporter she saw the ugly and the truly weird sides of my home town.  She first published nonfiction accounts of the Miami she saw, then started writing a series of novels about a crime reporter in Miami named Britt Montero.  I love detective books written by women with women as the lead characters.  Buchanan's novels fit the bill perfectly!  I enjoy Britt Montero, swilling the super-strong Cuban coffee, and going toe-to-toe with detectives, City Hall, and Miami criminals.

Edna Buchanan has been chosen for the 2012 Literary Legend Award by the Florida Heritage Book Festival.  She will receive her award in September at the 2012 Florida Heritage Book Festival in St. Augustine, Florida.  I am making plans now to attend!  Jeff Lindsay, author and creator of "Dexter" (the serial-killer-criminologist who also lives in Miami) will be a keynote speaker.  woo-hoo!  A cornucopia of mystery writers!  Well, we'll see...two probably doesn't make a cornucopia...but it's a start!

Here's the article from our local paper containing a telephone interview with Ms. Buchanan:

The Florida Heritage Book Festival is one of my favorite St. Augustine happenings all year.

(still walking - day 7)

Friday, April 6, 2012


Out of bed at 6.

Walked *FLB and me.

He had enough bathroom breaks.
No street pooping.

Observed that there are more cars at 6:15 than at 5:45.  Newspaper delivery car swerves back and forth like a drunken sailor and needs to be avoided at all cost.

Day 3.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Day Two

5:15am Alarm/clock radio turns on:  This morning I wake up and realize it's time to get up and walk.  I decide if I don't move then I might be able to ignore the music for a few more minutes.  (The radio is across the room so I can't hit snooze.)
5:20am My backup alarm on my cell phone starts chiming.  Since my cell phone is on the nightstand I simply hit it and it stops.
5:40am Guilt prompts me to get up.
5:42am Finally find the FLB* and tell him we're walking.
5:45am FLB* and I leave for walk (only 3 minutes later than yesterday...yippee for me)
-------- Stop so FLB* can relieve himself
-------- FLB* stops and drops a #2 on the street (REALLY?!  This was pure spite.)
-------- Stop so FLB* can relieve himself
-------- Stop so FLB* can relieve himself (just show-lifts now; he's empty)
-------- Stop so FLB* can relieve himself and he drops yet another #2 but this time in a designated area (yippee for me)
6:05am Back in the house again.  FLB runs and jumps on my unmade bed with his wet paws.  I chase him off.

*FLB Harley my love

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Day One

5:15 a.m.  Alarm clock/radio turns on:  my dreams start to include country music
5:25 a.m.  Finally wake up enough to realize I'm not in Nashville and I open my eyes, raise my head and check the time.  Close my eyes and snuggle back on my pillow.
5:35 a.m.  Drag myself out of bed.
5:40 a.m.  Wake up the FLB*.
5:42 a.m.  FLB* and I leave for walk.
---------   Stop so FLB* can relieve himself
---------   Stop so FLB* can relieve himself
---------   Stop so FLB* can relieve himself (by now he's lifting his leg and nothing's coming's all for show)
---------  FLB* stops and drops a #2 on the street
6:02 a.m. Back in the house again after morning walk.

*FLB (freakin' little bastard) is Harley the 24 lb terrier who needs to lose 4 lbs to get back to his handsome self.

Friday, March 30, 2012

Reality Check

1. do laundry tonight so you will have clean clothes to wear to work at the library tomorrow.  make sure pants are loose and comfortable for squatting.

2.  buy new pants because only your sweats are loose and comfortable

3. screw it, wear sweats

Monday, February 20, 2012

Respect the Can, Man

It's the little things that do you in.  Sure, aliens could land in my neighborhood like they landed in Tom Cruise's neighborhood in War of the Worlds.  Sure.  And, who knows,  maybe I would find myself as resourceful as old Tom's character in getting out of Dodge and surviving the attack.  Maybe.

That's not a little thing.  That's not having to buy yet another garbage can.

I have lived at my current address almost 8 years and I'm on my 3rd or 4th garbage can.  To some people that may be no big deal, but I really don't see why a freakin' garbage can should wear out, or more exactly, be destroyed.  It's a GARBAGE CAN.  It's plastic or metal, you stuff bags of garbage in it, you haul it to the street once a week, and someone empties the contents into a garbage truck.  So why have I come home to garbage can debris scattered in my yard, driveway, and the street?

The first can was inherited and it didn't have a lid - which just won't work.  Not only does it rain into the can (I don't have a garage or outdoor covered storage place, don't get me started on that...) but some of the lovely critters that inhabit my island climb and tear and scatter.  Critters like cats (and you know who you are), armadillos, possums, dogs.  And please remember this is Florida where it does get quite hot and humid in the summer.  The inside of those garbage bags are petri dishes and one small hole or tear and the smell, o heavens, the SMELL.

So I bought a Rubbermaid $30 can with a lid and wheels.  The wheels because I'm not carrying pounds of garbage to the curb and it's noisy and embarrassing to drag it down the driveway.  Within days the handle had been broken.  Really?  Within weeks the lid had been tossed into the street and run over several times by friendly neighbors.  Within months one of the wheels had disappeared.  So I spent the next year or two pounding the ill-fitting lid on it and dragging it up & down the driveway.

Next I bought a cheapo $15 can (with lid & wheels) at K-Mart.  Awesome.  $15!  They broke the handle the first time they picked up the trash.  I "fixed" it with duct tape.  That lasted for many months.  That must have irritated them because one day I came home to find the axle and wheels sitting next to the can.  REALLY?!  And I could NOT get the axle reattached to the can.  So I spent the next year dragging the can back and forth on the driveway.

Last week, after intense internet research and reading of customer reviews, I found my can.  No matter that it was $70.  No matter that it was 40 miles away.  I would get that can.  I enlisted my daughter's help (she has a huge trunk in her car) and we drove to the Big Box Store in Palm Coast that had my can.  Well, they didn't have the 30 gallon can I wanted, but for the same $70 they had a 60 gallon can by the same manufacturer.  Bought it.  Didn't fit in the trunk.  With rope and additional string from the store we got a piece of it in the trunk and secured it all around.  Drove home with the wind whistling through the lid.

Last night I proudly rolled my trash can to the street and parked it.  I threw down my challenge.  And when I returned home from work today, my can was sitting neatly on the grass next to my mailbox.  Undamaged. Granted, they left the lid open (it's attached).   A message, I assume.  Fine.  My can and I are up to the challenge.