the more things stay the same....

When I walked through the kitchen door yesterday the first thing I saw was garbage all over the floor.  I gasped, but I did not yell or scream or flail my arms.  As I stood there the FLB* trotted up with his tail wagging.  I glared at him and pointed at the mess.  He looked.  Then he remembered.  Oh.  His tail lowered and his whole body slumped.  All I said was, "Bed.".  He slunk off to his doggie bed.

I didn't have to clean up the worst of the garbage: a handful of chicken fat cut from some chicken breasts, gooey barbecue sauce, and a hairball cleaned up a couple days ago.  The FLB* ate those treats.  So my part of the cleanup was pretty quick.

Of course I'm waiting for the denouement.  He ate raw chicken fat and a hairball.  I'm sure there will be some gagging drama in the middle of the night soon.  Sigh.

After I cleaned up the mess and did some other chores I decided to release the FLB* from his timeout and take him outside.  I wanted to get my two new plants out of the car.  One plant with tiny purple flowers at the end of its long green leaves looked like it had some white spots on some of the leaves, so I decided to leave it outside and spray-wash it for a few days before bringing it into the house.  As I set the plant on my patio a tiny 3"  lizard leaped from the plant to my hand.  I heard a shriek and I think there were some body tremors before the lizard jumped from my hand to the patio.  I'm proud to say I did not wet my pants...not even a little.

I do have some sad news.  My houseplant palm tree did not survive.  I'm not sure what happened.  This was the plant that the FLB* liked to sniff around and stare at.  I thought I watered it carefully but it started to yellow and brown and before long it was dead.  When I took it to the street to be added to the yard waste pile I thought I saw the blinds move in my living room.  Was the FLB* watching me?  Was he...laughing?
I purchased a replacement palm last week and so far it looks wonderful in the living room and the FLB* seems to be ignoring it.

I have some great news, too.  I have a new grandson.  Evan Philip Carter was born less than 30 minutes before Fathers' Day.  He is beautiful and sweet and cuddly.  Here is his one month old picture:

And this is little Evan with his big brother 3-yr-old Noah.  It looks like Noah is sucking the brain right out of Evan, but he's counting to 5 while kissing his little brother - as directed by his mom so she can get the photo.

*FLB = Harley, mixed terrier.

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!

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.

Audio Books and Driving

Blogging remotely from Covington, Georgia

When I decided to spend Thanksgiving with my daughter's family one of the most important items on my to-do list was :  get audio books at the library.  The drive from St. Augustine to Covington is six to seven hours depending on traffic congestion, road construction, and determination in "making good time".  I've made it in seven and I've done it in six.  Audio books keep me entertained and awake, two important ingredients for driving long distances by myself.  A third ingredient is plenty of caffeine:  I know all the Starbucks on my route.

So last night I had the *FLB in the backseat; he sits in the pink Princess car seat that my other daughter gave me last Christmas so my granddaughter could zip around town with me.  Harley doesn't seem to mind the color or the Princess logo repeated all over the seat; he's secure in his sexuality - or what's left of it after I had him neutered.

In the front passenger seat was my CD player, the audio book A Most Wanted Man by John LeCarre', backup audio book for the return trip Nightmares and Dreamscapes by Stephen King (a collection of short stories), and my purse.  You might be wondering why I had a CD player on my front seat instead of using my car's CD player.  Well, the car's CD player finally died earlier this year.  It didn't quit working all at once; no, that would be "normal".  Instead, like all things electronic in my family, it died piece by piece.

It was the kind of CD player where all the CDs are loaded into the CD changer in the trunk.  A wonderful invention where I could load 6 music CDs or 6 Audio CDs and listening to all 6 would get me almost to my destination.  When the CD player started to die, it died one CD disc holder at a time.  So on one memorable trip up to north Georgia I listened to DISC#1, then DISC#2, then DISC#4....WHAT?  At least for that trip I was listening to Christmas music and not an audio book; skipping whole chunks of a book would have driven me nuts.  Over the next couple months the CD player continued to quit working one disc at a time.  Finally it just died.

So with a fresh set of 8 "C" batteries and my first CD disc loaded I headed north towards Florida.  Just as I merged onto I-95 my cell phone rang; it was my long-time best friend Bonnie who lives in St. Petersburg.  (Florida not Russia)  We hadn't talked in weeks, so we spent the next hour catching up.  I had to be careful; traffic wasn't too heavy,  but the last time I got in a cell-phone discussion with Bonnie while I was driving long distances, I overshot my destination exit by 15 miles!  This time, HA!, I saw the sign for I-295 WEST just in time to cut across two lanes of traffic and make it.  We talked all around Jacksonville and hung up as I merged onto I-10 West.  Traffic was very heavy by then and I had to pay strict attention.  Besides, Bonnie had to go.

I listened to my first CD disc of A Most Wanted Man after I filled up with gas in Macclenny,  Florida.  And may I just say that Macclenny was a bit nerve-racking.  There was a Wal-Mart with a gas station on the outer perimeter of its parking lot, and people were lined up for gas like it was on sale or something.  (It wasn't.)  Just past the gas station a couple had parked their pickup truck on the grass and she was holding up a hand-lettered sign that said FREE PUPPIES and MOMA FREE TOO.   "Moma" looked like a pit-bull-mix as did the puppy that the man was holding up.  No thanks.  And please, they couldn't spell Mama?  Momma?  Anything but MOMA.

I spotted an oasis in this rural outback - STARBUCKS - and got myself a grande vanilla latte at the drive-thru.  Thus fortified I returned to the gas station and grabbed a pump without any problem.  Once safely out of Macclenny I started my CD player and enjoyed the first installment of my book.  By the end of the disc I was in Georgia.  It was dark as pitch and I didn't think I should be changing discs while hurtling along I-75 north in a construction zone.  I waited until the construction zone ended and at the next exit pulled off for a drink (LARGE diet Pepsi with a shot of cherry) and a disc change.  I also took the *FLB for a "walk".

The 2nd disc finished just as I passed Macon.  I couldn't tell you one detail or memory of that part of the drive.  I must have been watching the road, but I don't remember it.  My mind was totally on the book.  If I thought about it much I guess I'd be scared, but Harley and I made it to my daughter's house in one piece.

Epilogue:  This morning when my grandson ran into the living room to see his darling Grenah, he ran PAST me and to the French doors where he hollered:  HARLEY!  HARLEY!

*FLB=freakin' little bastard

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

Lassie

I skipped blogging yesterday.  I had an AWFUL day - a truly BAD HORRIBLE day and just couldn't do it last night.  I sat in front of my laptop last night and said, "Forget it."  And I went to bed.  And then I nurtured myself.  See, I had ordered a set of DVDs from Amazon.com a couple weeks ago - the 50th Anniversary set:   The Best of Lassie.  I was very tired but not sleepy, so I watched a couple of episodes.  They were the original ones with Jeff & Mom & Gramps.  Not my favorites...I didn't start watching Lassie until Timmy came along in 1957, but I did find out how Lassie came to live with Jeff in the very first episode broadcast originally in 1954.  After I turned off the DVD player I still tossed and turned a while, but I was more relaxed.  Why?  Lassie, of course.

I think my parents started letting me watch Lassie when I was 2 or 3.  It came on early enough that I could watch it right before bed.  And I loved it.  I mean, I REALLY loved it.  Dad told me later - several times - Dad always told me stuff several times - one of the things I miss about Dad - he told me that he and my mother actually discussed keeping me from watching Lassie.  You see, at the end of the show, that mournful whistled tune would begin and Lassie would sit there in all her (his) beauty...and then...as the music swelled to a crescendo...she would lift her paw.  And, at the end of every show, I would sob hysterically because it was over.  I would cry and cry and cry.  My parents actually worried it was hurting me to be so upset, but then the next Sunday would come and they worried about how much more upsetting it would be for me to lose Lassie.     

Lassie (and Timmy) were on until 1964; then Timmy was replaced by some stupid forest ranger.  The show lost quite a bit of its appeal to me - who wanted to watch Lassie and a GROWN-UP?!  In addition, I was growing up myself and becoming interested in other things.  Like the Beatles and The Man from U.N.C.L.E.  I gradually quit watching Lassie. 

I looked up the Lassie TV show in Wikipedia and was amazed to find out that it's one of the longest running dramatic TV shows of all time; it ran continuously from 1954 until 1973 - ironically I was born in 1954 and married in 1973.....how...cosmic.  Even cooler...my first dog was a collie.  A gift from my paternal grandmother Essie Maxwell, who for the only time in her life, did something totally outrageous without asking my parents first.  She gave me a collie puppy.  She rocked my little 6-year-old world that day.

I want to share Lassie with my almost-3-year-old-almost-potty-trained granddaughter Kinsey.  First of all, she needs to know what a real dog looks like and acts like.  (No offense, Harley.  Thank God he can't read.  He's just now getting over the shaving episode.)  Kinsey is spending the night this Friday night and I'm going to try a couple of episodes out on her.  And I'm prepared for her NOT to like them.  If she doesn't we'll just watch SpongeBob Squarepants, the Movie.

And after she's asleep I'll watch 1 or 2 episodes of Lassie.

This is my 3rd Saturday with no TV.  I don't miss it.  I think Harley (my precious little mixed terrier AKA the freakin' little bastard) is relieved, though, that I don't watch TV - especially on Saturdays.  I used to make him watch It's Me or the Dog on Saturday nights.  Victoria Blackwell - a dog trainer from the U.K. - would go into people's homes, observe the utter chaos that their dogs were causing, then sit down with the owners and explain how stupid they were being in spoiling their dogs.  She would then train them how to train their dogs.  She'd leave them after a couple of sessions to do it themselves, but would monitor them with a camera crew.  Then watch the footage and bemoan their mistakes.  Then return to chastise them, and urge them to continue training. 

Harley seemed to enjoy the chaotic bits the best.  He would run to the TV and jump up and bark at the dogs who were fighting or lunging on their leashes or tearing up furniture.  I think he wanted to join them.  When the training started he tended to get busy licking himself .  I would point out certain good behaviors I wanted him to emulate, but he would usually ignore me. 

The similarities between It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny cannot be overlooked.  The shows follow the exact same pattern:  Trainer/nanny arrives, observes chaos, sits down with owners/parents, teaches them how to train their dogs/children, leaves & monitors, returns for reinforcement.  My daughter used to let my granddaughter watch Supernanny with her, but she quit when she realized that my granddaughter was copying some of the bad behaviors - particularly the very entertaining temper tantrums. 

Maybe they should combine It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny.  Then the trainers and nannies could team up and help people who have both spoiled children and spoiled dogs.  I know that when my sweet precious granddaughter Kinsey comes to visit, and I put her almost 3-yr-old personality in my condo with the freakin' little bastard's personality, I never know what to expect!  Harley usually spends the entire time in his crate.  Kinsey wants to chase him around and torture him - which he does deserve - but if he ever hurt her then I'd have to kill him.  Since I don't want Kinsey hurt and I don't want Harley dead, I keep Harley crated.  Then, when Kinsey and I leave, I let Harley out of his crate, and he either pees in the laundry room, or poops in the bathroom, or tears up the garbage.  Or he just plots.

The other evening when Kinsey & I were working so hard on her potty training, I did not have Harley crated because I had Kinsey restricted to the toilet seat.  So Harley stayed in the bathroom with us and kept licking Kinsey's nose and she kept cupping his face with her little hands saying how precious he was.  It was so cute.  And so phony!  Those two are trouble and they can't fool me!  Luckily I've learned enough from watching past episodes of It's Me or the Dog and Supernanny to handle them both.

Tonight I keep wanting to switch on the old TV.  I'm tired and bored and just listless.  TV is perfect for that.  I can sit and watch without thinking, or I can channel surf and look for something better on the next click of my finger.

Instead I've been reading Black Cloud by Eliot Kleinberg.  He is one of the authors who stayed at the St. Francis Inn last weekend.  I also attended his presentation about "Weird Florida" last Saturday.  The book is much more somber - it is about the 1928 hurricane that leveled West Palm Beach and then drowned thousands when it roared across Lake Okeechobee.  It's an interesting read, but not doing much for my mood or energy level.

I'm in between movies on NetFlix.  It's 9:30 and really too late to start a movie anyway.  I could listen to music, but, nah, don't want to.  So I'll blog...I know...I'll post a couple pictures of my darling granddaughter Kinsey!

Please note her mother's handbag and the Disney Princess shoes.  She is ready to go out!

Later at Carousel Park (this was Wednesday of this week) her mother was trying to take a smiling picture of Kinsey on the swing and her grandmother was making goofy faces at her and instigating trouble. 

OK that's all I've got tonight.  Back to 1928 and the Hurricane.

Tink Seats, Sore Seats, and Commando Babies

Tonight is my turn to babysit granddaughter Kinsey while her mom goes to night school.  Instead of picking Kinsey up at her home as planned, I had to meet Mary Lee and Kinsey at the pediatrician's office because their appointment ran so late.  So I didn't get to pick up Kinsey's potty chair; instead I got the portable, foldable, crappy Tinkerbell seat - or as Disney calls it - the Tink Seat.

Now this stupid thin piece of plastic folds up so you can take it anywhere!  Woo hoo!  However, when  you unfold it and put it on an adult-sized toilet it slips and slides like some kind of adventure ride at Disney World!  No kid - who is already scared of that huge toilet and falling in - feels secure sitting on that stupid Tink Seat.  So after we get home I ask her if she has to pee and she says no of course.  I suggest sitting on the *$%#$#$#$%$@%#$ Tink Seat and she goes into panic mode.

"NO!!" she screams.  "I don't need go pee pee!"  When I try to lift her on the seat she glues herself to me like the newly-hatched creature in Alien.  Against my better judgment I soothe her and tell her we'll try later.  She runs into the living room, hops into my leather seat, and starts crying.

"What?" I ask (like I don't already know). 
"I peed," she says so sadly I can't even think of being upset.  Besides, it's leather. 
So I get her all cleaned up and put clean panties on and we play, and we eat dinner, and we play, and she's wiggling....so it's time to try again.

We were in there an hour and a half - at least.  I gradually got her from the step to sitting on the edge of the Tink Seat where she looked into the gaping hole for probably 30 minutes.  We discussed all kinds of topics during this time, including the water in the toilet and where the pee pee goes and the sound it makes.  FINALLY I get her to sit with her butt over the hole!  YEAH!  I think I've made it now!

But no...now that she is truly centered on the &^&$*$#&$^ Tink Seat all she has to do is wiggle just a bit and the freakin thing slips and slides and eventually an edge or side slips into the hole.  So even though she is positioned perfectly for #1 or even #2, we have to keep adjusting the seat and adjusting her on the seat and adjusting the seat.  Finally I decide to get a folding chair because 1 hour sitting on the side of the tub has crippled my butt.  I get the chair as close to her as possible and we sit there hugging each other and the impossible happens.

"I peed...," she says quietly.  And I hear just a little tinkling.  We celebrate.  We sing.  We dance.  We wash our hands.  We get ready to play, but she starts wiggling again.  Oh no, #2.  We start over but she lays her head on my leg and I stroke her back and then I realize...she's sound asleep.  So I pick her up and wrap her in a quilt - yes, commando, because she only has 1 clean pair of panties left - and lay her on my (leather) couch. 

I'm tired. 

Day 5 - Putt Putt and Commando

So Saturdays I usually make some coffee and watch A&E's Sell This House - and cooking shows on PBS. Of course I channel surf and watch parts of movies I've already seen and parts of movies I'm not totally interested in. Saturday night I like Animal Planet's It's Me or the Dog.

But not today. I slept in until 9:30 when Harley the horrible hound launched himself into my bed and started licking my face. I took him for his walk - and it was surprisingly comfortable outside. Usually by 9:30 it's hot enough to give you a sunburn in just minutes, but today it was a bit overcast and really nice. When we returned from our walk the condo was r*e*a*l*l*y quiet. So I turned on the radio and there were my boys - Car Talk! I fed Harley, made some hot cereal and did laundry and chores until about 11:30.

Time for a treat and some real writing. So I packed up my laptop and drove up to Starbucks. Got a skinny vanilla latte and found a nice corner and started working on my book (working title Peanut Butter Beach). The music was great - old early 60's Beatles - and I was smokin' on the keys. Laughing to myself, too. I worked until my battery threatened to quit and then drove home. More chores and a quick shower and it was time for babysitting.

I had agreed to babysit my almost-3-year-old granddaughter Kinsey while her parents went to dinner and a movie. I figured putt-putt would be fun and I also had invited my niece Darian (who is 11 and VERY competitive) to go with us. One of my co-workers, Mike, had heard me talking about it earlier in the week and said he would meet us there, too. Mike loves the putt putt. Unfortunately for Mike, he got a repair call - he does maintenance work at the Inn where I work - just after the 1st hole and he had to leave. We were all bummed.

That left me alone with a wild toddler and a tween-ager. And they wore me out. Kinsey insisted on holding her putter like it was a pool cue, and Darian was so bent on beating me she starting shaving points. It was wild. The course has a lot of stairs and climbing up and climbing down - one of its attractions. At the highest point you can see the beach. Darian believes in short cuts and, of course, Kinsey is monkey-see-monkey-do so instead of walking sedately to the next hole on the sidewalk, they would be climbing a hill or jumping through a bush. And if I heard myself say "Off the green when it's not your turn!" one more time I was going to kill myself!

At least I won. Well, we gave Kinsey the official win by letting her score par, but I beat Darian by 5 strokes. Go Aunt Karen! I didn't brag toooo much. The course has a nice deck area and we cooled off there with some sodas. I relaxed for about 30 seconds and then Darian announced that the lemon-tea she was drinking made her burp. Darian is renowned in the family for her loud and unsettling burps. I knew we were in trouble. Actually, I knew I was in trouble. It started - a weird cawing-burping sound would erupt from Darian, Kinsey would giggle loudly until I thought Sprite was going to come out of her nose, and I would hide my face. Kinsey at one point said, "Look - that baby is looking at us!" And that baby was looking at us! No kidding!

Afterwards I gave them each a dollar and 6 cents (hey big spender) and took them to the Dollar Store where they picked and chose and discussed and put back and finally decided what treat they wanted for themselves. Darian picked out purple hair extensions and Kinsey picked a soft ball with things pointing out of it. We drove Darian home with the top down on the convertible and woo-hooed all the way back.

I watched Dan play Civilization on the computer with his daughter Savannah (on-line - she's in Boise) and Darian and Kinsey played dress up. Kinsey is being potty trained so it was inevitable that she would have an accident and she did. I cleaned her up and helped clean up the carpet and then she pooped her pants. I cleaned her up and took the toxic trash out to the outside trash can and told Dan I thought we might have overstayed our welcome. Nah, see ya! That was Kinsey's last clean pair of underwear so I let her go commando on the way home.

I remembered we had nothing to eat at home and made a side-trip to MacDonalds. While I was ordering Kinsey kept shouting at the speaker, "I want ice cream!" so I did a knee-jerk grandmother thing and added a MacFlurry to the order. As I was paying at the window Kinsey ordered 4 more ice creams. The cashier ignored her. We drove home as quickly as was allowed but the MacFlurry was a MacMelty and the fries were cold by the time we sat down to eat.

My daughter and son-in-law arrived a little while later. She couldn't believe I had let my granddaughter ride around St. Augustine "commando" and that I had filled her up with sugar before bedtime. Kinsey just grinned at me and I grinned back at her. We had a great time.

And no TV. none. zippo.