How old are you?

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from wikimedia commons/author rich007

So I'm proving a point AND writing my blog.  I can blog and watch TV at the same time.  I can watch TV and blog at the same time.  Cool.

So I'm watching this special on PBS; Paul McCartney, 'scuse me, SIR Paul McCartney is receiving the Gershwin Lifetime Achievement Award for Songwriting.  I didn't know what the special was about; I'll admit I was channel-surfing looking for anything when I spotted Sir McCartney being interviewed about the upcoming performances.  I thought he was doing all the singing, but it turns out he opened the performances and then relinquished the stage.

I started thinking about age because Sir McCartney sounds darn good for his age!  I mean, the man is in his 60's and, though his voice roughens on the upper notes, he sounds like the Paul McCartney I listened to in high school.  I watched the Obamas and realized they were 15-20 years younger than Sir McCartney.  (I looked it up:  McCartney was born in 1942 and Obama in 1961.)  Holy cow!  Barack and Michelle  probably didn't even listen to Wings when they were in high school!  President Obama is just a year older than my sister; I wonder if he was a fan of Shaun Cassidy, too.  (smirk)  The smirk is for my sister; she doesn't like being reminded of her high school crush.  

So first Sir McCartney sang "Got to Get You Into My Life".  Then Stevie Wonder sang - and Stevie sounds great and looks great, too.  Then the announcer introduced the Jonas Brothers.  Who?  The cameras panned to the two Obama girls; they were lit up like Christmas trees!  Oh yea, the Jonas Brothers.  They came out and sang a Beatles hit (They were singing it when I started typing and I've forgotten the song  I'm going on memory here, folks.)  and they were GREAT!  They could have been the young Beatles; their voices were pitch perfect and their accompaniment was spot on.  The Obama girls were experiencing the Beatles almost as I experienced them.  Young, good-looking guys singing and having a great time.

(Elvis Costello is singing Penny Lane right now.  Not so pitch-perfect, but hey!  it's Elvis Costello!)

The whole age thing blows me away at times.  Last week I was taking my morning vitamins and our summer intern Jenn was watching me.

"Fish oil," I explained.

"Oh," she nodded.  "My grandfather takes that."

%*$(#*%&#(*$#

One of the pleasures of my job (I work at a B&B.) is meeting new and interesting people.  Today a nice-looking man was brewing hot tea in our lobby when I was walking through.  Our eyes met and I commented on drinking hot tea when it was in the 80's outside.  (It was NOT a wisecrack; it was a friendly observation.)  This led to a long discussion where I learned so many fascinating things about him:

•  He grew up in Viet Nam in Saigon.  It was tradition to keep a hot pot of tea going all day.  All guests were always offered a cup of tea.  They also believed that drinking hot beverages helped them to feel cool in the tropical heat of (South) Viet Nam.  
• His grandfather was a physician who was well-known in Saigon and who believed in treating the whole person and had a lot of ideas about eating and taking care of yourself that are becoming more popular today.  Joey (he introduced himself as Joey and I'm not sure if this is the correct spelling or not - he's very Americanized so it may be...) didn't speak until he was 5 and his family believed he might be "stupid" (his word), so no one paid much attention to what they said around him.  He spent all his time with his grandfather at his practice and said he knew all about menopause, having babies, and many other things by the time he was 5!  
• His grandfather came to America with the rest of the family, and died at the age of 88 when he was hit by a car.  This happened in Pensacola, FL.  An autopsy was performed because the Highway Patrol wanted to blame the accident on an "old drunk or drugged man" (meaning a foreigner) and the autopsy showed him to be not only alcohol and drug-fee, but he had the body of a 68-yr old.  This happened back in 1987.  The driver was never charged.  
• Joey is in the Air National Guard.  He is 50 yrs old and looks 40.  (And I only guessed 40 because he has some gray hair.)  He says at his physical training for the Guard he outruns much-younger men all the time and loves it!

What a delight he is - and what stories he must have!  I wish I could have spent much more time with him, but I WAS working.  I filled my coffee thermos with hot green tea and drank that this afternoon.  It was weird and I didn't feel cooler, but I'm going to keep at it.  He also drinks room temperature water as needed.

I'm glad to be back on my blog.  I deviated from my "no tv for one year" project by getting into hulu too much.  And while my family was visiting for spring break they hooked the TV back up and I've had several wasted evenings back in my old habits.  I heard on the radio today that hulu will start charging for their service in May or June so that will put an end to that.  Bummer.  It's kind of cool to pick and choose what to watch and when.  For free.  I'm not PAYING for it.  So I'm baaaccckkk.  I've got some stories - after all, I spent 4 days/3 nights in VEGAS BABY recently, and the wildlife is stirring here in NE Florida. 

PS Harley is alive and well.  He hacked up a 4" hairball yesterday. 

4 Months and Counting Since I Unplugged the TV....

My cousin Nina mentioned to me (by email) that I hadn't talked about living without TV in awhile.  Funny.  That was the focus of my blog when I started. 

I used to come home after work and turn on the TV.  First thing.  Now my TV only gets turned on when I watch my two Netflix movies per month, or when I watch a DVD.  I watched Get Shorty a couple weeks ago.  I love that movie.  I also watched a VHS tape (OMG!) of It's a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve.  My daughter gave me the DVD of Inglourious Basterds for Christmas, but I haven't taken the plastic off yet.  Watching my TV set has become an "event" instead of just background noise in my condo. 

That being said I have found that the Internet is just as addicting and time-consuming as TV.  I boot up my laptop every evening and

1. Check my facebook account.  OMG facebook.  I don't spend as much time on facebook as I did when I first signed up.  I don't play Farmville anymore.  BUT I do spend a lot of time commenting on my friends' posts and clicking on links - and then those links often lead to other links - and more links.
2. Check my Google mail.  I set this account up when some A-hole hijacked my Yahoo address book on Christmas Day and sent all my contacts emails with ads for Canadian Viagra.  I actually had one friend who asked why I had sent it to her.  sigh.  I think it hurt her feelings that I thought she needed Canadian Viagra.  I had to explain the hijacking thing and then I pointed out (kindly, I thought) that WOMEN  don't take Viagra anyway.  dur.  (BTW... is Canadian Viagra different than American Viagra?  I've never dated a Canadian guy....)
3. Check my Yahoo mail.  Because some people will NEVER update my email address to the new Google address no matter how many times I ask them.
4. Check my Hotmail mail.  Because there are still a couple people who have never updated to the Yahoo mail.  I must be the most patient friend in the world. 
5. Check my Blogger home page and read the Blogs I'm following.  Sometimes I comment on their blogs, or click on the blogs  they are following and so on and so on.
6. Check my bank account.  That doesn't take long.  sigh.
   
7. Read the local paper online because someone always wants to TALK to me during my break at work when I'm TRYING to read the local paper. Reading the paper online tends to lead to reading the Jacksonville news online which can lead to watching short video clips of interest.
8. And maybe write something on my own blog.

Seriously, I was doing all this online stuff AND watching TV before I unplugged the TV so I don't feel too bad about it.  It does cut into my WRITING.

As far as TV is concerned the Winter Olympics, the Oscars, and some TV series I miss will be on.  When I was a kid, if I missed an episode of something, that was it.  I had one chance to maybe catch the rerun in the summer.  Now, between listening to the radio and accessing the Internet, information is always available.  If I'm still interested next September when my project is complete, I can Netflix or Hulu to my heart's content and catch up on my favorite story lines and characters.  We'll see.

St. Augustine: an afternoon stroll

One of the joys of working in downtown St. Augustine is being able to play tourist.  I brought my camera to work today and promised myself an afternoon of taking pictures and just walking around.  I looked forward to it all day.

At the end of my workday I stuffed a few dollars into my pants pocket and unhooked my car key from my main key chain.  I pocketed my car key and put the rest of my keys in my purse.  I debated taking my cell phone, then put it in my other pocket.  I left my office about 3:15pm (I work 7am-3pm with just a short breakfast break at 10:00.) and placed my purse in the trunk of my car.  I slung my camera over my shoulder and strolled out of the parking lot.  Even though the sun was shining brightly it was still pretty cold, and I found myself hunching in my corduroy jacket.  I pulled the sleeves down around my cold fingers and picked up my pace.

As I walked past houses dating back to the late 1800's I watched for good photo opportunities.  I also watched where I was stepping because the sidewalks are uneven and St. George Street is paved with brick to give it that old cobblestone look.  I've stumbled more than once because I stepped into a hole while I was staring at some interesting piece of architecture! 

I turned east on Bridge Street and I could see the Matanzas River sparkling in the afternoon sunlight.  I walked a couple blocks east and snapped this photo.  The building on the left is the Kenwood Inn  - notice how it's built right on the street. 

I backtracked to Aviles Street (the oldest street in the oldest city) and walked past the Casa de Solana Bed & Breakfast whose main building was erected about 1803 or so.  Then past a series of shops that beckoned to me with antique maps and books, jewelry, pottery, and art.  Today I would not succumb to the temptation of shopping.  I was on a mission to relax, take photos, and enjoy my town.

If you're walking north on Aviles Street it ends at the Plaza de la Constitucion.  Most southern towns have a square in the middle of town.  Because our city was planned and built by the Spanish we have a plaza.  It is rectangular and contains several monuments, a gazebo, large, stately trees - cedars and live oaks mostly, a structure known as The Market, and several cannons.  I strolled around the plaza and snapped some pictures and just enjoyed being outside. I even sat for a few minutes on a bench, but it was still too cold to do that for long.

I turned my attention back to walking and headed over to St. George Street again.  North of the Plaza St. George Street becomes a pedestrian walkway bordered by shops and restaurants.  I hurried because I was not shopping today and quickly turned east on Hypolita Street.  Facing east I could see the waterfront again.  Tourists were out in abundance enjoying the sunshine and warmer temperatures.  I passed two cafes that had recently closed.  The economic downturn has wreaked havoc on our locally-owned restaurants and shops.  I slowed as I passed Claude's Chocolates, but I did not stop.  Claude is French and crafts the most exquisite Belgian chocolates...I must stop as my mouth is watering.  The light looked interesting on Charlotte Street so I headed north.  A large motel backs up to Charlotte Street on the east side of the street so no photo ops there.  I turned west on Cuna Street and noticed that a toy store had been replaced by a book shop.  I made a note to come back and spend some time browsing in there! 

By this time I had been walking for 45 minutes and I was getting cold and thinking a hot cup of coffee would be delicious.  I turned left on St. George Street and headed to Cafe de Hidalgo.  This little cafe serves delicious gelato, all kinds of delicious coffees, and sandwiches.  Just as I opened my mouth to order a coffee to go I saw the handwritten board that advertised Mexican Hot Chocolate.  Oh, my.  I ordered the Mexican Hot Chocolate.  Made with real chocolate (not a powdered mix), milk, cinnamon, and a dash of hazelnut, it sounded too wonderful to pass up.  The woman at the register said it would be about 5 minutes so I grabbed a small table and relaxed for a few minutes.

There was a couple sitting next to me - the man and woman looked to be in their early thirties.  A server brought out huge cups of coffee to them.  Then a server brought out a huge piece of apple pie a la mode and served it to the man.  I wasn't the only one who noticed; several of us were taking covert peeks at what looked like heaven-on-a-plate.  It was huge so the assumption was that the man and woman were sharing it, but no!  Another server brought out the biggest piece of cake I have ever seen!  Seriously, this looked to be almost a quarter of a very tall cake!  Someone at another table said, "I guess they're not sharing!" and giggled.  The woman who had ordered the cake looked mortified, but we all started giggling at the huge piece of cake and she seemed to relax.  She leaned over to me and offered to share.  I told her thanks, but no thanks.  I asked her where they were from, and she replied, "England".  I apologized for our extremely cold weather (We Floridians tend to take responsibility for the weather, you know.)  She said they were having a great time, and we agreed, "At least it's not raining!"  She added, "Or snowing!" and I had to tell her that we had had snow on Saturday just 30 miles south.  She was stunned and amazed.  I picked up my hot chocolate and bid them farewell.

I strolled back to my car - taking another 30 minutes or so to get there.  What a great afternoon!

The Ultimate Beauty Tool

I purchased a package of cotton swabs the other day and, as I had nothing better to do, I read the package. I was shocked at the variety of tasks that that these little cotton sticks could perform. 

First of all you can use them for FIRST AID.  Next time I cook dinner and I chop part of a finger off (I'm quite the chef, you know)  I am going to grab a cotton swab.  The cotton will absorb the blood and I can use the pressure from the stick to stop the bleeding.  I bet EMTs have to carry a boxful on their trucks.  Picture them arriving at a car wreck, or at a condo where a chef is bleeding to death from an amputated finger.  "Ralph, grab the cotton swabs! We have a bleeder!"  Cotton swabs make great splints also - as long as you have enough of them.

Second, you can use cotton swabs to CLEAN AND DUST ELECTRONICS.  I've been using those stupid cans of air to clean my laptop keyboard.  Silly me.  I have a couple TVs that are gathering dust, and an all-in-one printer/fax/scanner, and a CD player.  My goodness.  I'm going to have to buy more cotton swabs!

Third, BABY CARE.  The picture on the box shows a baby staring warily at a cotton swab sitting in front of his nose.  We all know where that cotton swab is going and it's not going to be pretty when it comes out.  I'm glad the box doesn't go into any more detail.  I really don't want to see boogers in advertising.  I don't have a baby and I don't plan on having a baby, but I do have two small grandchildren and a third on the way.  My granddaughter is 3 and seems to enjoy taking care of her own nose with her very own finger at this stage.  Maybe I'll give her a box of cotton swabs.

I don't see cotton swabs replacing baby wipes any time soon, though.  Gross.

Fourth, HOUSEHOLD USE.  The picture shows a cotton swab poised in front of a bathtub faucet.  Holy cow!  On my next vacation I'm going to take a case of cotton swabs and REALLY clean my tub!!! 

Fifth, but should have been FIRST:  ULTIMATE BEAUTY TOOL.  I've been using a putty knife to apply my makeup since I turned 50.  Dang, this sounds so much better.  A cotton swab has pure soft cotton and a flexible stick and I can use it not only to apply, blend, and touch up my make up, but also to remove it.  My face has quite a bit of....acreage....and it may take me some valuable time in the morning to apply and cover.  I know!  I can tape several together!  American ingenuity comes to the rescue!

For the life of me I can't remember why I bought the cotton swabs in the first place, but now I have dozens of uses for them.  So many things to do with them; I'm going to have to stock up!

You're not the boss of me!

I had such good intentions for this week.  Put away all the Christmas stuff.  Get all my paperwork sorted, organized, shredded, filed, etc.  Normal household chores.  Maybe even start that walking thing - you know, exercise?

But it's cold.  I'm not talking chilly...I'm talking "freezin' butt cold" (as my friend Susan calls it).  It has stayed in the 40's and 50's during the days and below freezing at night.  My heat pump is set for 68 degrees - very "green" of me.   And it's COLD in my home.  I would never set my A /C to 68 degrees!  For one thing that would be a waste of energy and money.  For another thing it would be freakin' COLD in here!!!!  YET YET YET it has not been above 68 degrees in my home since Saturday.

All I want to do when I get home is wrap up in a quilt and get warm.  So I wrap up in my Grammy's crocheted quilt and then I snuggle in my big, fat chair, and I read.  Or I wear one of my two jackets and get on my laptop.  Or I eat - after all, that brings up the body temp considerably.  What haven't I done?  Put away the Christmas stuff.  Get ALL my paperwork sorted, organized, shredded, filed, etc.  Normal household chores.  And forget exercise!  It's COLD outside and I have little outerwear - a couple jackets, no gloves, no hats (unless sunhats & visors count), and no warm scarves.  And there's no way I'm stripping down to some stretch pants and a top and doing yoga in this cold meat-locker living room of mine.

I will admit that I have sorted a lot of paperwork and put a lot away - not all I had hoped.  AND I unloaded, reloaded, and ran the dishwasher.  But that's it.  That's all.

Well, whaddya know?  ....my hands are much warmer now.  Maybe a little tantrum was just what I needed.  I'm feeling much better and I believe I have some things to do .... after all...it's only Tuesday!

All I Wanted Was a Houseplant

Before Christmas I purchased myself a BARGAIN houseplant.  I paid just under $8 for it.  (Then I spent $34 on the pot for it, but it was still a good deal, right?)  You can see it in the photo...behind the white oscillating fan..and to the left of the dancing elf.  (She was singing and dancing to Jingle Bells sung by my dancing poinsettias, but that's another story.)  Although it was cool outside, it was imperative to have a fan going.   (When a 3-year-old visits there is NONSTOP activity which can cause women of a certain age to SWEAT.)

Although my houseplant and I got off to a shaky start due to a tree frog hiding in the watering can, I am now enjoying the newest addition to my living room.  I believe the palm tree is happy with its new home as it is filling out, sprouting new leaves, and not developing any brown areas.  It adds a bright spot of color to that corner by my front door and I just enjoy looking at it.  Everything would be perfect...except...except for ...

the *FLB.

Yes.  Him!  He spends a lot of time staring at the tree.  Up close and personal.  He will walk up to it, sniff around it, stick his stinkin' little nose in the dirt and sniff...

sniff....sniff....

Then he will startle... and stare ... at SOMETHING he sees or thinks he sees in the tree.  He will back off and sit and stare.  Move closer.  Stare some more.  Eventually he forgets what he's doing and wanders away. He is driving me crazy.

I picked up that tree and plunked it in my shopping cart and hefted it into the back seat of my car and lugged it into my home.  If there was something IN the tree wouldn't it have jumped out and gotten me then?  Wouldn't it?

Today I remembered a story carried in the St. Augustine Record last July.  I looked it up and here is the headline:  "Garden Shop Reopens After Rattler Bites Shopper".  I am not kidding.  A man was shopping in the fern section of the St. Augustine Wal-Mart Garden Shop when his girlfriend's child dropped or threw a baby bottle onto the floor.  Said customer "reached under a plastic shelf" whereupon HE WAS BITTEN BY A PYGMY RATTLESNAKE!  He survived - after he was hospitalized.

The garden shop was closed so a wildlife professional could be called in and "assess the area".  Here's my favorite quote, "What is not known is whether the rattlesnake got into the garden center from nearby woods or if it came in on plants delivered to the store." 

WHAT????!!! 

Since 2006 three incidents were reported of snakes attacking customers in Wal-Mart Garden Shops around Florida.  In the almost-requisite "What to watch for" part of the article appeared my 2nd favorite quote: "The ornery pygmy rattlesnake is a 'sit-and-wait' predator that sits coiled in one spot, waiting for its prey to approach." 

Nice.

So I'm sitting here wondering what the heck my dog is sniffing and staring at in my palm tree.  I bought it at Home Depot, not Wal-Mart.  Thank heavens.  I'm not going to DO anything with the palm tree like pick it up and move it - not anymore.

And I keep my eyes WIDE OPEN when I'm watering it - after I have checked out the watering can thoroughly.

Damn.  Just damn.

*Freakin' little bastard

TV - THE GREAT NUMBING EFFECT

For some reason I wanted to watch TV very much this week.  I wanted the noise and the "company" that TV could provide, especially yesterday and today.  It was like a craving - no reasoning to it - just WANTED it. 

I knew that the TV would be full of AFTER CHRISTMAS SALES & LIQUIDATIONS commercials.  I reminded myself how annoying those would be. Still wanted TV.  I tried to analyze this craving:  did I associate TV with Christmas?  I was unable to dredge up any memories of TV and Christmas - no parades or events that I would miss. Still wanted TV.


I finally decided I was tired.  I had hosted dinner for my family Christmas Day and, even though we all had a great time, I was beat.  TV would be so EASY...just sit there and click click click my way into numbness.  Nothing (besides sleep) is as EASY and as MIND-NUMBING as watching TV.  And when I say "watching TV" I was not thinking of any particular show.  I still like certain TV shows and look forward to watching them in the future.  When I craved "watching TV" I craved sitting in my big chair with the remote and staring at the TV and tuning out.    

Instead of watching TV I cuddled up in my big chair with my new Sue Grafton mystery, and read.  What a pleasure to read something as well-written and intriguing as U is for Undertow.  Unlike so many writers today who take a formula and just basically "fill in the blanks" as they crank out book after book after book (can anyone say James Patterson?), Sue Grafton crafts each and every book the same way an artist creates a painting or a sculpture.  She experiments with point of view, she is attentive to detail, she creates living, breathing characters who you care about - even if they end up being the "bad guy".  

I start a new Grafton mystery by allowing myself a chapter or two at a time, but I always end up devouring the final chapters as the suspense builds to a surprising climax.  I finished this book last night.  I was sad for a few minutes - sad and satisfied - and then decided it was time to read the series from beginning to end again.  The series is so good that you can read and reread the books and enjoy them over and over again.

I've been reading a huge collection of Flannery O'Connor stories and I'm ready to be finished. What a tremendous talent!  I've learned a lot about writing, but I'm ready for something ... sunnier.  Not a lot of laughs in Ms. O'Connor's stories.  Same for Eudora Welty...another Southern writer with a very twisted way of looking at things.  I have The Tin Drum by Gunter Grass waiting for me at the library.  I may release my hold on that one - again, not a happy funny novel - and start rereading A is for Alibi.

DOGS, COPS, AND DAUGHTERS

"Back in the day" when I used to watch TV I would use it to lull myself to sleep, or to pass the time when I couldn't sleep.  My ex and I divorced in 1992 and the following August I bought a house in Lake Capri, a quiet community of mostly older folks who had moved there in the 1970's and 1980's to retire.  Atlanta suburban sprawl had caught up to this part of Rockdale County and now it was just another suburban neighborhood.  I loved the area with its spring-fed lakes and walking trails, and I liked the house.

My older daughter, a senior in high school, moved in with her father, and my younger daughter stayed with me.  Our house had two bedrooms upstairs that shared a large bathroom and, on the weekends when my older daughter came to stay, the girls could have all the privacy up there they wanted.  The master bedroom was downstairs and I could also have all the privacy I wanted and needed at that time.  The house had a large fenced yard and the girls' two dogs lived back there.  Snoopy and Jodi were two mutts that the girls adopted at the pound when both dogs were just puppies.  Snoopy was a black chow-mix and Jodi was a huge hairy collie-shephard-and-something-else mix.  The dogs were my responsibility (problem) now as they were older and the girls had moved on to bigger and better things.

One winter night I could not sleep and I was channel-surfing, clicking from one station to another, looking for something, anything to watch.  I had put the dogs into our large utility shed because it was going to be below freezing that night.  Melissa was asleep upstairs (or so I thought) and Mary Lee was at her dad's.  I was in the divorcee's typical sexy nighttime outfit - an over-sized tee-shirt and panties.  Click.  Click.  SCREAM.  I jumped and clicked.  One of the channels must have had on a horror movie and I clicked on it just as some poor victim let out a bloodcurdling scream.  It gave me shivers and I made a note to skip that channel if I surfed near it again.  Click.  Click.  What's that?  Boring.  Click.  Click.


Let's change the point of view.  My daughter Melissa, who was 13 or 14 at the time, was upstairs just dozing off when a bloodcurdling scream woke her.  She froze in her bed as the scream was cut off!  MOM!?!  She listened and heard nothing.  O MY GOD!  Had something happened to Mom?  She reached for her phone and pulled it under the covers with her.  9-1-1.  She told the operator that she had heard her mother scream downstairs and she thought someone was in the house.  The operator immediately dispatched two deputies to the address and kept Melissa on the phone.  Was there any way she could get out of the house?  No, the stairs and front door were by her mother's room.  Was her bedroom door locked?  No, yes, maybe, sometimes it didn't lock all the way.  Did she want to check?  No!  She was too scared to even get out of bed.  For all she knew her Mom was dead and someone was coming up the stairs to get her!  The operator tried to calm her and kept her on the phone while the police hurried to our address.




Point of view shift:  Mom is watching some stupid movie or program downstairs totally unaware of what is going on in her daughter's room.  All of a sudden she sees lights dancing on the wall outside of her bedroom door.  Mom rubs her eyes; the lights are still there.  It looks like someone is shining a flashlight through her living room windows.  Holy crap!  Someone is trying to break in!  Mom is terrified!  She mutes the TV and slowly climbs out of bed looking for a weapon.  Nothing!  She tiptoes to her bedroom door and peers around the wall into the living room.  There are two people standing at her front door shining flashlights through the window!  One of them raps on the door and says, "Ma'am!  Police!  Can you come to the door?"


Police?

"Just a minute!" she says.  She stumbles to the door and slides back the latch.  She hears her daughter's bedroom door slam open and her daughter stampedes down the stairs saying, "I'm sorry!  I'm sorry! Mom, I'm so sorry!"

Mom opens the door to the police who are relieved that we are both all right, but supremely aggravated that,  in checking out the house before approaching the front door, they had heard noises around back and opened the utility door.  The two excited dogs had bounded out, jumped all over them, and had run away.  My daughter apologized for calling 9-1-1 and they were very kind to her and told her she did the right thing.  I was mortified to be standing there in an over-sized tee-shirt, wild hair, and clueless.  They apologized for releasing the dogs, and made a halfhearted attempt at rounding them up before they gave up and drove away.  Melissa ran back upstairs and fell asleep.  I put on some sweatpants and a jacket and retrieved the dogs.

KICKIN' BACK IN KENNESAW GEORGIA - AND WITHOUT A GUN

Destinations really make the vacation, don't you think?  A vacation to...say...Trenton, New Jersey...should not be compared to a vacation trip to...Dublin, Ireland.  Not to put Trenton down.  Although, if you read Janet Evanovich's series about an inept but daring bounty hunter in  Trenton, you could then put Trenton down.  Her description is - to say the least - unflattering; however, there must be fun places to visit and fun things to do in  Trenton.  Otherwise, why would anyone live there?

I just returned from my vacation to Covington, Georgia.  My daughter, son-in-law, and grandson (darling Noah - see above left!) live in Covington, Georgia.  We never actually visited or drove by or through the actual TOWN of Covington.  Their mailing address is Covington, but they live in a very rural part of Newton County.  Covington does have a very picturesque town square which you may have seen if you ever watched the TV series In the Heat of the Night starring the now deceased Carroll O'Connor.  My daughters were raised in the neighboring town of Conyers and had occasion to see some of the stars of the series and to actually watch a scene being filmed one time.  Watching a scene being filmed is like watching paint dry; however, meeting celebrities - that was fun!

We were dining in Po' Folks Restaurant** one Christmas season and who should walk in?  Alan Autry!  He played Captain Bubba** Skinner on the series.  My daughter Mary Lee watched every episode of In the Heat of the Night and was enamored of Bubba.  She cried out his name as soon as she saw him.  He was being escorted by our booth and stopped to say hello.  He looked at Melissa's Santa hat, and said, "Nice hat."  Melissa retorted, "Yours, too!"  He was wearing his signature cowboy hat.  He laughed and moved on to his booth.

I did not see any celebrities in rural Newton County or in downtown Conyers this trip.  The weather was cool and crisp, and, although leaves were being blown from the trees, there was still quite a bit of beautiful fall color to enjoy.  I set aside the last two days of vacation so I could spend Saturday and Saturday night with my friend Susan, then drive home to Florida on Sunday.

Susan lives in Kennesaw, Georgia.

Now, if you Google "Kennesaw GA" you will get some basic information links (like the original name of Kennesaw was Big Shanty - - nice - -) and several links that refer to "Gun City".  You see, on May 1, 1982, the city passed a law that required every head of household to "maintain a firearm together with ammunition".  It was passed partly in response to a 1981 handgun ban in Morton Grove, Illinois.  Now before ya'll get all scairt - this law was amended in 1983 to "exempt those who conscientiously object to owning a firearm, convicted felons, those who cannot afford a firearm, and those with a mental or physical disability that would prevent them from owning a firearm".  Phew!  I wonder how many financially disadvantaged conscientious objecting disabled felons purchased firearms before the amendment? 

Another interesting sight to see in Kennesaw is Wildman's Civil War Surplus.  Also known as the "Best Little War House in Kennesaw".  RoadsideAmerica.com describes the shop as being "run by a gun-loving bigot".  Susan has offered (threatened) to take me to Wildman's several times, but, since most gun-loving bigots are misogynistic, too, I've been concerned that I would burst into flames as soon as I entered such a place.  So far I haven't been treated to a visit there.  Even though I was having to enter the city limits of Kennesaw I was still excited about visiting my dear friend Susan.  We always manage to have fun.

A couple hours after I arrived we were sitting around drinking coffee when we heard a big WHUMP and the power went out.  The power stayed out, too; however, it was a sunny and fairly warm day and we didn't need no stinkin' electricity to have fun so we just kept talking.  Susan's boyfriend Karl checked with the neighbors and confirmed the outage was not just us, so we all figured a transformer had blown.  Susan and I decided to go shopping and hopped in my car for the short drive to Wal-Mart.  (Hey, better than Wildman's!).  We got to the neighborhood entrance and found several cars stopped.  Uh-oh.  Maybe it was more than just a blown transformer.  Oh, you bet.  We parked and walked out to the main road.  Looking to the right we saw this truck and this pole tilted and these power lines in the road.  

This is what I could see using my zoom lens.  The pickup is pretty well trashed; that was a camper shell on the back. 












The accident happened "a ways down the road" from Susan's neighborhood, but you can see the lines block the entire street in that direction.

We walked to the left to get this shot - this is what you would see looking left from her neighborhood.  A firetruck had blocked the street and the power guys were shoring up the lines that had been pulled and snapped when the truck hit the other pole.

What is unbelievable - besides the fact that the two people in the truck sustained only minor injuries - is that the truck hit the pole so hard that it BROKE OUT A PIECE OF THE POLE (see behind the left rear wheel?) which then went over the truck and destroyed the camper shell before landing behind the truck.  Speed limit on this street?  35mph.  Driver's story:  He had a sneezing fit and that caused him to floor the gas pedal and swerve into the pole.

Right.

Susan (pictured at left) took a lot of ribbing about the "good time" she was showing me in Kennesaw.  Once the cops decided that we could turn left out of the neighborhood without wildly swerving to the right and plowing into the downed lines, they let us out one by one.  Then the good times really started:  Wal-Mart - didn't have what either of us wanted; however, I did have a snack of 1 (one) Pringle (served on a napkin) with a small swallow of Coke Zero.  I believe that is the only time in my life I have only eaten one chip.  Ever.

Then Susan took me to Kroger where some redneck woman and her son tried to run over us several times in the liquor aisle.  Then she took me to the Dollar store where I picked up Christmas bags really cheap.  It is truly the THOUGHT that counts.  Then she took me to Publix where she introduced me to Bob who had just prepared samples of Greek Tilapia and Greek Cucumber Salad.  Since I hadn't had anything to eat since 10:00am (well, except for that chip and swallow of Coke Zero) and it was almost 4:00pm I was very grateful to Bob for this sample.  I even thanked him after I growled, snatched it from his hand, and stuffed it in my face.

I will admit that Susan later took me to Taco Mac (with her boyfriend Karl and her sister Meloney) and Taco Mac had the best frozen Margaritas I've ever had!  And good food!  And even the Florida State (SEMINOLES) and University of Florida (GATORS) fans hollering at the multiple screens broadcasting the annual rivalry game didn't bother me; in fact, it was like being back at home in Florida.  We did get out before the Georgia-Georgia Tech game started; that would have been too much excitement. And bloodshed.

So my vacation ended on a high note:  power outage, redneck car wreck, Wal-Mart, and football.  Kennesaw.  I'm writing a review for tripadvisor.com and giving Kennesaw a thumbs up!

**Po'Folks Restaurant - yummy Southern cooking including fried green tomatoes, fried chicken, mashed taters with white gravy.  Good eatin'....

**Bubba - not just a rural legend - this name exists and is found frequently south of the Mason Dixon line.

VACATION OVER - PICTURES FOR THE RECORD

"Disney World" for dogs.  Harley loves this backyard.  Picture taken from backdoor/patio..steps lead up to pool (closed for winter).  Blond dog with curly tail looking at the camera is Lilly - named for a character on Days of our Lives.  She is 9 years old and the alpha dog - Queen - of the backyard.  The little dog behind her is the *FLB.

*FLB=freaking little bastard

Bo and Harley being friends for the camera.  Bo (also  named for character on Days of Our Lives) is the no-way-alpha-ever dog and just LOVES Harley.  Bo shares his doghouse with Harley on cold & dark winter nights.  Unless they are all in the garage - on REALLY cold nights. 

Lilly looks on as Bo & Harley frolic. 

My daughter baked a homemade chocolate pound cake from my grandmother Maxwell's recipe.  She set it on the dining room table while we were working on something else in the kitchen and I advised her NOT to cover it for awhile.  It has a nice crunchy-brownie-like crust on the outside and if you cover it tightly the crust softens.  A few minutes later I noticed a little face peeking out from behind the cake.  The little face seemed to have crumbs on it and looked rather pleased.  I motioned my daughter over to the door and we both watched.  Then she went and examined the cake.

Yep, someone had been scraping off pieces of the cake.  Some 2-year-old grandson!  Noah (NOT named for anyone on TV)  was mighty pleased with himself and we have a Thanksgiving story.

HARLEY - ON VACATION

Harley is having a great time on vacation.  He loves it in the backyard here.  It is completely fenced and about a half-acre in size.  Imagine you are a 20-pound mixed terrier and your greatest obsession is marking your territory.  You are let loose in a large yard with lots of bushes and trees.  Heaven.  Add in two more dogs for company and you have the perfect vacation for a dog.

The other two dogs are named Lilly and Bo.  Lilly is a blond & tan 50-pound mutt of indeterminate origin.  She has a long, crooked, curly tail, the long sleek lines of a greyhound, and  the rounded nose and floppy ears of a hound.  Bo weighs in at about 80 pounds and has the unfortunate genetic background of Basset Hound and Labrador retriever.  Unfortunate because he is as thick and heavy as a Labrador, but his big body sits on Basset Hound legs.  He also has Basset Hound ears and can raise the hair on the back of your neck with his howl.

All three dogs have been adopted and all have their own issues.  Put them together and they get along fairly well.  Lilly and Harley skirmish over alpha status.  Bo follows Harley around the yard while Harley marks his way around the perimeter of the fence.  Lilly and Bo make Harley wait until last before he can eat.  Sometimes they all bark together at some imagined threat or noise.  One afternoon the fire station about two miles away released the trucks, sirens blaring.  All three dogs howled.  And Harley and  Bo play in weird dog ways; this afternoon Harley was lying on his back and Bo was licking his belly.  It was a little too Caligula for me.

It's dark and chilly tonight.  Lilly is snuggled in her dog house; Bo and Harley are bunking together in  Bo's doghouse.  I don't ask and they don't tell.

BAREFOOT AND ...NOT...PREGNANT

Thanks to the Merriam Webster online dictionary:

Main Entry: ¹va·ca·tion

Pronunciation: \vā-ˈkā-shən, və-\

Function: noun

Usage: often attributive

Etymology: Middle English vacacioun, from Anglo-French vacacion, from Latin vacation-, vacatio freedom, exemption, from vacare

Date: 14th century

1 : a respite or a time of respite from something : intermission
2 a : a scheduled period during which activity (as of a court or school) is suspended b : a period of exemption from work granted to an employee
3 : a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation
4 : an act or an instance of vacating

I'm on vacation.  I am enjoying a respite from work and the daily routine, and for the first few days I have enjoyed suspending a lot of activity.  Every once in a while I feel a twinge of "should" as in what SHOULD I be doing?  I bat it away with a shake of my head.  It's almost noon and I'm still in my pajamas and barefoot and wearing my daughter's Snuggie. 

Every morning so far (this is my 3rd day of vacation) my grandson Noah and I have enjoyed coffee together in the dining room.  We discuss the view outside the French doors which includes trees, leaves falling from the trees, rain (yesterday), sunshine (Saturday), clouds (this morning), and Harley.  We discuss the deliciousness of the coffee while stirring our coffees with our spoons.  Mornings are the best.

I have to admit staying TV free has been a challenge.  At home I've rarely been tempted to watch since I unplugged 9/1/09; however, here in my daughter's house temptations are everywhere.  My first afternoon here the family went to a birthday party (for a 1-year-old) and I stayed here to take a much-needed and appreciated nap.  I snuggled on the couch with an afghan and a magazine.  The magazine, Entertainment, had the Twilight-series' stars on the cover and lots of talk about the movie New Moon, but lots of the magazine was devoted to current TV shows and what's happening on various series.  Suddenly I was salivating about Dexter and wondering about new shows I had never seen!  I put the magazine down, pulled the afghan over my head, and slept soundly.

Later that day my daughter was laughing at the latest Survivor shenanigans and told me she wished I was watching it this season, because one of the "survivors" was really sly, manipulative, and smart.  (Not always a combination you find on the show.)  He's president of an oil company and doesn't care (or at least he says so) about the million dollar prize.  I found myself laughing at his antics as retold by my daughter, but not really tempted to watch.  Then I asked her about Amazing Race and she told me about the gay brothers who pretended to be straight to woo the girl teams, and the Harlem Globetrotter team members who were very down-to-earth, and funny as all get-out.  Why did I ask?  Self-torture.

Last night I was listening to my audio book in my room as I relaxed before bed.  When I realized I was dozing off and missing whole sections I decided it was time for lights off.  I walked into the living room to say good night and...my eyes were drawn...unwillingly...to the TV...to the episode of....Amazing Race...that was playing.  A little voice in my head screamed, "Nooooooooooooooooooo."  I turned, I turned back.  There was Phil, the good-looking and wry host of Amazing Race.  I gasped, "Where are they?"  My daughter answered, "Prague".  Oh my, the Czech Republic.  Maybe I'd just watch for a minute.  I confess.  I watched almost the entire episode. 

Was this a slip?  Would I have to attend TA* meetings again? Did I have to call my sponsor?

Naaaahhhhhhh.

I went to bed with an almost-clear-conscience.  About 96%.  Pretty good for a recovering Catholic.

This morning the TV is on and Noah has watched an episode of Backyardigans, some Einstein show on the Disney channel, and now some dinosaur train show on PBS.  They are just background noise while I catch up on email and blog.  I did stop to sing the Backyardigans' songs.  I'll be getting dressed eventually; it's still cold and overcast outside.  My daughter has a cold so we'll be staying in today.  Whatever.  I'm on vacation.

*Television-addicts Anonymous

DEAR GWENN

Dear Gwenn,

I'm sorry I didn't get up to the North Georgia Mountains to visit you in October.  As it turned out my two girlfriends Ann & Gaelyn did their "Fall Festival Tour" the 3rd weekend of October, but I had to miss it.  It was not a good time to miss work; we were upgrading our reservation software at the Inn and I needed to be there.  I missed seeing you and visiting you in Blairsville more than anything!

I thought of you a lot yesterday.  My 3-yr-old granddaughter Kinsey spent the morning with me while her mommy had a hair appointment.   I used - and used it knowing how much you would love me doing it! - the cup and saucer with the lovely purple flowers and gold trim you painted several years ago.

I made coffee and then mixed lots of milk and sugar and a tiny bit of coffee in an old china pot I had purchased at an estate sale in Tampa.  While Kinsey watched with eyes as big as - you guessed it! - SAUCERS,  I got out the special cup and saucer she had been eying for weeks.  While I set the table and got her ready for her special coffee, I told Kinsey about my special friend Gwenn who painted the flowers and the gold on the cup and saucer.  She was so very excited to be using her Grenah's special things.

I brought her the coffee and the cup & saucer and brought my own cup of coffee to the table.  We had the best time!  Just two girls drinking their coffee and talking!  She was very respectful of the special cup.  I asked her to be very careful, but also explained that nothing would ever be as special as she was to me.

When she finished her first cup of coffee she asked if she could pour more and, of course, I said yes.  She was so careful; she used two hands.  She warned me that it was very hot and that she would be very careful not to burn herself.  I just love it when she is so serious and is being so "adult" in modeling her behavior.  And her imagination!  That "coffee" was cold cold cold.

As we were sitting there and the quiet settled around us I thought of you and the first time I met you at the fall festival.  I couldn't remember if it was the Hiawassee Festival or the Sorghum Festival in Blairsville, but I did remember that you and I hit it off from the very beginning.  I loved your artistry, and then, the more you talked, the more I loved your wonderful personality.   And your spunk and your laughter!  I fell in love with an English Squat Pot and told you I wanted to buy it.  You said I could only buy it if I promised to use it.  I was horrified!  No way!  It was too gorgeous!  I knew I'd drop it or crack it against something or the boiling water would destroy it.  You took it back from me and told me I couldn't buy it then!  You told me in no uncertain terms that the pot was made for steeping tea and that you meant for all you artwork to be used and enjoyed.  I promised to use it and I still do to this day.  I still enjoy the short fat shape of it and the delicate pansies you painted on the pot.

I was thinking today that it must be close to 15 years since we first met; I can't believe it has been that long.  Year after year my girlfriends and I would drive up to Hiawassee to enjoy a 4-day weekend in the fall colors of the mountains.  And we would hit every festival we could while we were up there - big and small.  Year after year my favorite part was hunting for your booth and for your smile.  A couple years - when you weren't feeling well, you weren't there.  I missed you badly.  And the next year I would be so anxious looking for you and so relieved when I saw your smiling face!

Yesterday, before I served the coffee, I used my little Aerolatte whip to whip up some milky foam for my own coffee.  After we had been sitting there for awhile and just talking and sipping, I asked Kinsey if she would like some foam, too.  She nodded her head and I took some foam from my cup and added it to her cup.  Of course, I knew that wouldn't be enough.  She asked if she could do it, and she took several spoonfuls of foam.  We got a little silly after that because when you drink a nice lovely foamy cup of coffee, you tend to get a foamy mustache!  So that's when the giggling started.

Eventually Kinsey filled her cup to the brim with "coffee" and foam so she couldn't lift it without spilling.  I showed her she could just lean down and sip from the side (Emily Post I'm not) and she got foam  on her nose and on her lips.  This led to a major bout of giggling from both of us.

I understand why keepsakes are to be treated with respect and also why part of that respect is to use them.  I could put all my treasured painted-by-Gwenn porcelain pieces on a glass shelf and admire all those pieces until the day I died.  I could write notes on each one explaining why it mattered to me.  I could hand the pieces down to my daughters and  they to their children.  Some of that may still happen.  But the magic happened Saturday morning with my granddaughter and using the porcelain cup and saucer and the memories and  the foamy giggles.

Gwenn & Karen April 2009

St Francis Inn, St Augustine

 Love you, Gwenn, and miss you so much!

Karen

HAVE I BROUGHT THIS ON MYSELF?

I really really was not going to post about this again.  I don't want this to be the dog & critters blog, but I've started to wonder:  have I brought this on myself?  There is this school of thought - New Age, whatever - that what you envision is what you will receive.  So if you think about a fabulous new career you will eventually obtain that fabulous new career.  And the reverse is true; if you think only negative thoughts then your life becomes full of negativity.

So...can blogging about critters bring MORE critters?  You tell me.

Last night I was surfing the 'Net and saw this headline:  WOMAN:  DEAD FROG IN GREENS.  So who could resist that, right?  The story is about a woman in East Texas who purchased a bag of Glory Mustard Greens (and I have purchased Glory Collard Greens & Turnip Greens & even Kale) who put her greens in a pot and noticed "a pair of eyes staring out at me".   Jiminy Cricket!   Is nothing sacred?  Greens are actually GOOD for you and now I can't even buy those anymore!  This is beyond gross...and ....he looks like a tree frog, doesn't he?

So I started getting a small case of heebie-jeebies and decided that was enough.  I walked to the back door - which is a storm door and the screen was rolled up to let our delicious autumn breeze in - and just before I called Harley for his goodnight walk - I saw him.  A little tree frog on the glass of my storm door.  And he was very alive - all pulsing and throbbing and oozing.  I decided Harley could hold it until morning.

This morning I take Harley for his morning walk - without incident.  I get back home and I open the dishwasher to pull out a glass and what runs on the inside of the dishwasher door?

That's right:  a Palmetto bug.  The first gxd-damn Palmetto bug I have seen in my home since I moved here 6.5 years ago.  GD...son-of-a-bitch...shxt!  Now I am pissed off!  This is beyond gross and I will not put up with this!  He has crawled (scuse me if I make many typos - I am flinching and twitching and running my hands thru my hair like a nutcase as I type) on top of a large bowl.  My trusty lizard/frog-killer Harley is standing right by my side.  I c.a.r.e.f.u.l.l.y lift the bowl out of the dishwasher.  The disgusting filthy animal stays.  So does the bug.  I tap the bowl on the floor in front of my trusty lizard/frog-killing machine and the bug lands right at Harley's feet.  The bug sits there and Harley looks at me like, "What"

I yell, "Get him, Harley, get the bug!"  This startles the bug who starts skittering on the floor - the motion FINALLY catches the *FLB's attention and he's starts after him....and....

The gd s.o.b effing bug goes under the refrigerator.  Damn, Harley!  I could have stomped him but I thought you'd be faster.  I didn't say this out loud to Harley but I sure did think it.  I moved Harley out of the kitchen and grabbed my can of RAID and sprayed a killing perimeter all around the refrigerator and then under it, too.  Stupid effing bug might get out but he wouldn't live to enjoy it.

I then placed a step-stool next to the refrigerator because the step-stool bugs Harley and it would keep him away from the killing field all day.  Then I went to work.

I was busy working on my computer when I noticed a bug on my monitor's screen.  It was a stinkbug.  Very common down here and it's actually considered kind of a "good" bug because it eats other bugs.  Every so often a couple stinkbugs will get in the office; the office sits in the courtyard of the inn and is surrounded by vegetation.  Usually I let the stinkbug crawl on top of a piece of paper and carry him outside and let him off onto a leaf.  So PETA of me.  I let this little guy crawl around on my screen, because after seeing effing GODZILLA in my dishwasher, this little guy was like a pet. 

Later I was in the lobby talking to Kelly and she said, "Hold still." and picked something off my shirt.  "What is it, a bug?" I joked.  She opened her hand.  It was the stinkbug.  She crushed him before I could stop her and tossed him in the trash.  Poor stinkbug.

That afternoon Mike stuck his head in the screen door (the weather here is really really nice right now) and looked up and said, "Good grief, what's that on your ceiling?"  I looked up.  I kid you not - there were between 5 and 10 stinkbugs walking all over the ceiling and one was right over my chair.  I didn't have a broom or anything long like that so I threw a dog toy (don't ask) at the ceiling until I knocked him down. 

I am phobic about insecticide (except in the case of Palmetto bugs) but I'm about to get over that.  If I have stinkbugs tomorrow, the gloves are off.

And no, that is not the end of the story.  The last straw is coming.

I'm relaxing in my big fat chair reading a book tonight when I hear Harley running like he's chasing something.  I get up and walk around to the dining table.  It's that Palmetto Bug!  (And don't give me any "How do you know it's the same bug crap....I know it's the same one because if it's not the same one I can't live here anymore!)  So Harley puts his paw on it  - and I realize he's been playing with it.

"Kill it, Harley!" Harley lifts his paw.  The bug runs under the living room sofa.  Next to my big fat chair. 

So I had to write about it because I'm not going near the living room until I find its dead body.  Meanwhile, Harley is whining and crying because he can't find his new toy.  I even moved the sofa out from the wall so Harley could search all around the sofa.  Every now and then I think he spots it because there's the sound of running feet.  Then he starts whining and crying again. 

Damn.  Just damn.

*FLB=Freaking Little Bastard

NO TV FOR 2 MONTHS - SO WHAT?

I disconnected my cable from my TV 2 months ago.  Have I learned anything from this experience?

• I've learned that I really don't miss the TV shows themselves.  I had a pang when I realized I wouldn't get to watch "Amazing Race", but I don't sit on my couch on Sunday nights weeping and wailing and gnashing my teeth because I'm missing the show.  I used to watch "Judge Judy" twice a day almost every day, yet I don't wonder about who didn't get paid for a cell phone account that they bought for a girlfriend/boyfriend, or who got stuck with a lease on an apartment when their friend/boyfriend/girlfriend moved out early, or who is suing whom for beating someone up during a bar fight.  I don't miss the news, the entertainment gossip, the weather reports, the sitcoms, the reality shows, and I especially don't miss all the commercials.  My God,  I used to spend entire evenings salivating over pizza delivery ads and fast food ads and those ads for quick-fix brownies.  (It only takes minutes in your microwave to enjoy warm gooey fudge brownies!)  I don't miss the endless channel surfing on weekends, watching bits and pieces and even chunks of movies (most of which I'd already seen!), and feeling guilty for wasting yet another beautiful weekend inside watching TV.  I don't even miss "Sunday Morning" as much as I thought; I have my Sunday morning coffee with NPR radio or a book.
• I've learned watching TV did not cause me to gain weight, lose weight or maintain weight.  DAMN.  DAMN.  DOUBLE-DAMN.
  
• I've learned that I can read a tremendous amount of books when I'm not spending any time watching TV.
• I've learned Netflix is really cool and I love finding that red envelope in my mailbox.
  
• I've learned that the weather can sneak up on me because I don't watch 45 weather reports at night; however, sometimes the weather used to sneak up on me even when I did watch 45 weather reports because I wasn't really paying attention to them!  I'm not worried about any tropical storms or hurricanes sneaking up on me because,

1. hurricane season is over, and,
2. I'll notice all the bread and milk gone at the local Publix.

• I've learned that I can isolate myself as much as I did when I was a TV-holic.
• I've learned that spending Sundays with my girlfriends is fun and refreshes my soul.
  
• I've learned that TV did not prevent me from exercising.  CRAP!  (STUPID TV!)
  
• I've learned that blogging can be fun or it can be a pain in the butt.  Just like everything in life.
• I've learned that I don't need TV.
• I've learned that silence can be comfortable.
• I've learned that I can waste just as much time surfing the Internet as I used to waste channel surfing; however, I can't surf the net with just one finger pressing a button.  It takes just a little bit more effort than channel surfing.  Not enough to lose significant weight or get toned, but probably enough effort that I've never done it more than a couple hours.
• I've actually learned something that may be useful in other...behavior modifications I may want to undertake.  I've learned that if I make something I usually do difficult to do then I won't do it.  So, wouldn't the reverse be true?  If I make something I don't usually do easy to do I might do it.  Food for thought.

My niece Savannah who lives in Boise, Idaho has signed up to be my most recent follower.  I am honored.  Welcome, Savannah.  Skip over the damns and craps, would you,please? 

I'VE LOOKED AT CLOUDS ALL DAY

Yesterday it was cloudy.  All day.  Today it was cloudy.  All day.  The forecast for tomorrow is Mostly Cloudy.  What gives?  This is FLORIDA.  Where's the sun?  I did not move here to look at gray skies all day long.  I am willing to take it for one more day but that is my limit.  After three days of no sunshine I will start getting mean.  Or depressed.  Either way...someone's gonna pay.

To make it worse I just emerged from a very involving book.  Compulsive readers know what I'm talking about when I say emerged; sometimes a book pulls you right into the story and won't let you go.  You almost feel groggy when you take a break or finish. 

I've been reading Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series about a vampire executioner.  The series can be very dark - lots of soul searching (Anita was raised Catholic), violence (oh my it is very violent), and, uh, sex  (though not in this particular book).  Sounds like a weird grouping.  It is.  Though this will never be one of my favorite series - I prefer lighter reading with more laughter than gore - Laurell K. Hamilton can spin a great story.  The real world just fades away and suddenly I'm in a vampire's lair, stalking a serial-killer monster, analyzing a crime scene, or fighting for my life.

In this book - Obsidian Butterfly - Anita Blake travels to Albuquerque, New Mexico to help stop serial killings that may or may not involve non-human predators.  Anita lives in St. Louis, Missouri, so this was a nice break both for Anita and her sun-deprived reader.  At least she was getting some sunshine in between the murder and mayhem.  At least it wasn't cloudy every damn day there, but I digress.  I enjoyed traveling with Anita to Albuquerque and seeing with her the great expanses of nothing but sand and grasses with black mountains in the distance.  Did you know Albuquerque is 7,000 feet above sea level?  I learned that Albuquerque is only about an hour from Santa Fe, NM.  I have cousins in Santa Fe.  They aren't vampires or monsters, though, and were not mentioned in the book. 

New Mexico is still on my list of places to visit.  It sounds beautiful and exotic and SUNNY. 

And Anita killed all the monsters so it's safe, too.

NO ROOM AT THE INN? PUH-LEEZE!

In any other city my place of employment - a bed and breakfast - would be unique, but here in St. Augustine, Florida, unique becomes weird very quickly.  For those of you who were brought up with a less-than-thorough education a brief history lesson:

Many Americans know about Jamestown - the first English settlement in the North American continent.  Well, big woop.  Who cares about Jamestown - the 2nd oldest settlement in America.  It's not even a real town!  YEARS before Jamestown was settled Pedro Menendez landed here and settled the town of St. Augustine.

St. Augustine is the oldest city in the United States.  (So there, Jamestown!)  And don't even start with Thanksgiving in Plymouth, PUH-LEEZE.

We have almost 450 years of history here.  As you can imagine ghost stories abound in our old city.  And the oldest inn in the oldest city has its own ghost stories.  From time to time we have psychics, sensitives, ghost-chasers, and paranormal investigators staying with us.  It's gotten so common that the owner has finally put a "ghost stories" link on our website, although you have to hunt for it.  Even though this is Halloween week, tonight's story is not about ghosts; it's about some other strange visitors we had at the inn recently.  I heard about these guests the morning after they checked in.

I was getting my morning cup of coffee and Kelly, the Inn's manager, waved me over to the Front Desk.  Her eyes gleamed as she asked, "Has anyone told you about our guests in the Dummett* (pronouced Dum-mit) Room?"

"No," I said.  "What's going on?"

"Yesterday afternoon our guests were checking in and asked if the room was pet friendly," she said.

I frowned.  We do allow pets in some of our rooms, but only ground floor rooms with outside entrances and only with prior approval.  I knew this was a problem right away; the Dummett Room is on the 3rd floor.  No way would we allow any pets up there.  Kelly grinned and continued her story.

"I tried to explain that we restricted the rooms because of allergies and the extra cleaning we always have to do," she said.  "They told me, 'No problem, our pets don't shed.'  So I'm thinking it must be birds of some kind, and told them we couldn't have birds either because of the noise.  I was starting to get worried because we were full and I didn't have a pet-friendly room for them.  They were very cheerful and said their pets weren't birds either.  I finally had to ask just what kind of pets did they have."

Kelly stopped and stared at me.  I shook my head; I had no idea.

"Snakes," she whispered.

"Snakes?" I whispered back.  I was trying not to shriek.

"Yes," she said.  "They said they had $10,000 worth of snakes.  They had just been to a convention. They couldn't leave them in the car overnight; the snakes would die.  They had to be in a climate-controlled space."

"Snakes?" I said.  "More than one?"  I was getting a real creepy feeling all over my skin.

"Yes," she said.  "They had 15 of them.  All boa constrictors.  Some were babies, most were small, but there was one large snake about 6 feet long."

"15 snakes?" I said.  I should be a detective with these kinds of interviewing skills.

"You should have seen it," Kelly said.  "They brought in all these plastic tubs and containers and stacked them over by that wall."

I jumped and looked at the wall.  There was nothing there, but just the thought of what HAD been there...

"You let them check in?" I said.

"All the snakes were locked in the tubs; they even had bungee cords around the tubs.  Most of the snakes were also in cloth sacks.  You couldn't see them through the plastic; you wouldn't even know what was in the tubs unless someone told you.  Besides, they had already paid for their reservation," she said.

"I know," I agreed.  Sometimes you just have to say yes.

The guests were a married couple who had just been to the Reptile Breeders Convention in Daytona Beach - evidently a HUGE event.  They raised boa constrictors and sold them.  They were on their way home to Louisiana.  Well, THAT explained a lot.  (No offense, Louisiana, but when a large portion of your area is  bayou a.k.a. swamp, you know that you're going to be lumped in with snakes.  Besides, did you ever see that show The Exterminator on A&E?  Filmed in...Louisiana!)

Once they had permission they brought the tubs in one or two at a time and stacked them in our lobby.  Kelly said the creepiest part was after all the tubs were stacked, you could hear the snakes hissing. HEEBIEJEEBIES.  No one else seemed to notice; a few other guests checked in while the tubs were stacked in the lobby and just ignored them.

"So where are the snakes now?" I asked while I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.

"They stacked all the tubs in the closet in their room!" she said.  "They went out to dinner, had a nice time, and had a nice quiet evening at the Inn."


The process was reversed that morning after the couple had their breakfast and packed to leave.  They brought the tubs down the three flights of stairs one by one and stacked them in the lobby.  They showed one of the babies to Kelly and some other employees who were crazy enough to want to look.  I stayed in the kitchen and peeked around the door.  Then they took the tubs - one by one - out to their car.  They really were very nice people and there was no mess or any problem with the extra visitors.  In fact, they had such a good time I bet they'll want to stay with us next year after the Reptile Breeders Convention in Daytona Beach!  I'll be taking that day off....

That afternoon Kelly and I were talking about our unique visitors.  She said, with a perfectly straight face, that she was glad there was no problem, because she had to get ready for the ghost-hunters who were renting the entire third floor for the next two nights.

15 boa constrictors one night and ghost-hunters the next - just another day at the Inn.

*pronounced Dum-mit - named for the Dummett family who owned the Inn in the mid-1800's.