Month: September 2015

Fitbit Fanaticism 

I’ve done a lot of strange things in my life, but since strapping on a Fitbit I have to admit my list has grown much longer.

The first thing I do each morning is look at the number of steps I’ve taken in the night. With a goal of 10,000 steps every one counts. I know exactly now how many steps I take going to and from the toilet with a stop off at the sink on the way back (25).

Then I check the quality of my sleep. My Fitbit indicates how many times I was awake during the night and how many minutes I spent in a restless state. Finally I have evidence proving that I don’t sleep. Studly Doright has to believe me now!

I also have become efficiently inefficient. Take laundry for example. In the days B.F. (Before Fitbit) I would carry arm loads of folded laundry from the chaise lounge in the den, dropping off various items in their appropriate places. 

After Fitbit (A.F.) I make a separate trip for each grouping of items. Studly’s boxers get one trip, his socks another, and so on. I do the same with clothing I’ve hung to dry in the laundry room, sometimes making a dozen separate trips. 

You don’t even want to know my new grocery shopping technique. Suffice it to say that by the time I’ve completed purchasing basics like milk, bread, and beer (yes, beer is a basic) I’ve crisscrossed the nearest Publix a dozen times. And parking has become a game to see just how far from the store I can park. 

Since the Fitbit also counts the number of flights of stairs I’ve climbed I’ve found myself walking in strange patterns at both of our malls. I never thought I’d say it, but I’ve become a mall walker. 

I can get all of the flights climbed in my own neighborhood just by walking up my side of the loop three and a third times, but until fall comes along it’s just too darned hot and humid out there. I did buy a small container of pepper spray so that some day in the future I’ll be brave enough to walk the entire loop again.

Have any of these machinations paid off? I don’t know yet, but if they allow me one beer in the evening, they’re worth it.

Peace, people!

  

Unravel

He offered her a cloth
of intricately woven golden
threads, beautiful, yet
comforting, a shelter from
her storms.

Gratefully she accepted his
gift of warmth and love,
marveling at the complexity
of the workmanship and moved
by his generosity.

Bound by his offering, they
found peace and filled
their lives with love and
laughter, until she
noticed a tiny imperfection
in the cloth.

It wasn’t much, just a hint
of gray in the golden threads,
but it caused a dissatisfaction
in her restless spirit, and
old storms brewed anew.

Try as she might she could
not ignore the gray amidst
the gold.

Maybe, she thought, I can just
pull out this thread and all
will be well with my heart.
But once begun the task had
no end.

Gray became the color of
her discontent. One thread
led to another until she
touched more gray than
gold.

He watched her snipping
threads, not knowing how
to help, loving her even
as she worked at dismantling
his gift, his heart.

In the end, she sat alone
surrounded by threads of
gray and gold.

Too late she realized
the gray strands
were ones she’d added to
the tapestry by joining
her life to his.

Drawing by Kimberley Campbell-Picasa

Badger

At Tallahassee Animal Services there’s an adult male cat named Badger. He’s the sweetest guy and loves to be snuggled and groomed. But Badger has only one eye, so people barely pause by his kennel. 

Sometimes they look in, but I’ve not seen one person ask to take him out and hold him. Of course I’m only at the shelter for a couple of hours each week. I fervently hope that he gets some attention when I’m not there.

I’ve begun taking him out of his kennel at the beginning of my shift and again before I leave. We talk. I tell him my problems and he listens like a pro. He, on the other hand, never complains. But he does wink, and you know a girl enjoys a good wink.

Badger is an easygoing guy with a sweet personality. He’d make a fine companion. 

 

Showing his best side.
 
Remember, don’t shop, adopt!

Banana Spider

We have a small area just outside of our front door that as far as I can tell holds no purpose other than to propagate weeds. The folks who built the home had a gardener to care for the ground cover plants that grew there, but when given a choice between employing a part time housekeeper or a gardener, there was no contest. Housekeeper won by a mile.

Logically I should have known that the pretty plants would need tending eventually and that I probably would end up with that job, but denial runs strong in my family. 

Last summer I stumbled about trying to maintain some semblance of respectable home ownership, but this year the courtyard has just gone to pot. Not literally–pot isn’t yet legal in Florida, so don’t send the sheriff’s department out our way, but figuratively. 

Things that made for pretty ground cover a year ago are sprouting tufts that look like an old man’s whiskers, and the uglier stuff is back with a vengeance. We plan to do something creative with the area, but it just hasn’t happened yet. Why? Golf. I blame golf.

Periodically I go out and talk to these plants/weeds as I bend, sweat, and pull, bend, sweat, and pull. It’s all very tender talk: “Go away you ugly sons of bitches, you’re making our home look bad to the UPS and FedEx guys.”

Today I was bending, sweating, and pulling while cursing these plants, and I stumbled into a banana spider’s web.

  
I didn’t realize at first that it was a banana spider’s web. I was too busy slapping at my head and shoulders to remove any arachnids that might have transferred from the web to my body. When I stepped out of the web I looked up and there she sat. Huge. 

Banana spiders in Florida are not poisonous, but they will bite and I understand the bites are quite painful. I continued to pull weeds, but now I had one eye on the spider. Cursing, bending, sweating, and pulling.

Peace, people!

Earning My Stripes

I volunteered for an extra shift at Tallahassee Animal Services this afternoon to help with the monthly rabies vaccination and micro chipping clinic. To start off on the wrong foot I was thirty minutes late–apparently I’d read the directions incorrectly, so by the time I arrived everything was set up and people were already in line with their pets.

After a quick orientation I was placed next to the folks standing in line to help answer questions, provide assistance, and direct traffic. Mainly I held stuff: leashes attached to excited dogs, carriers containing nervous cats, one with a pair of ferrets, and a car seat with a precious baby girl inside. 

I’d expected to be nervous around the larger dogs, but for the most part all the pets were well behaved. A couple had to spend time in the calming area because it was too darned exciting out in the fray.

The most exciting part of my afternoon was being peed on by an English bull dog. Yep. I was standing there holding his leash so his owner could complete the necessary paperwork when I felt this wet warmth on my ankle. Of course then he tried to cover up his pee, so he kicked dirt all over me. Oh, I also stepped in a steaming pile of poo. 

If I tell you I had fun will you think I’m crazy?

Peace, people!

  

Marketing Might be Her Middle Name

My ten-year-old granddaughter just posted her first video to YouTube. If you watch it, be sure and note her natural marketing ability at the end.  Maybe I should hire her.

I have no idea how to post something to YouTube, but I’m fairly good at pleading. Must be genetic.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=b3jxFn6n7Fc
Peace, people!

Cornwall Gay Pride

I love this blog, and today’s post from notesfromtheuk.com made me smile and marvel at how far we’ve come.

Ellen Hawley's avatarNotes from the U.K.

We’re a diverse bunch here at Notes, or an ill-assorted one if you like, and I love that, but once in a while it means I second-guess myself before I post something. To be specific, how’s a more conservative subsection of readers going to feel if I talk about a Gay Pride celebration? Am I going to run anyone off?

When I worry about running someone off it’s not about numbers. Sure, I check my stats as obsessively (and pointlessly) as any other blogger, but mostly it’s because I don’t want Notes to turn into an echo chamber for voices who all agree on a 674-point charter that we argued over until we all hate each other. I value the comments I get, and the people behind the comments. I don’t want to lose contact.

But that can’t come at the expense of being who I am. If I shut myself up every time I…

View original post 1,207 more words

Mind Field

Don’t mind me.
I’m gingerly negotiating
this space fraught with
ideas, absurdities, and
irreconcilable differences.

I’m of a mind to
chuck it all and navigate
someone else’s field for
at least a little while,
and see what may be gleaned.

Speak your mind
before someone else does
the speaking for you. Don’t
worry about the shrapnel;
it only hurts when they laugh.

Never mind.
This is mostly illusion
anyway, although most
of the pitfalls are real
and possibly explosive.

Mind your manners;
they will come in handy
when you have to deal
with the after effects
and resulting injuries.

Keep an open mind
and don’t judge others
whose fields might not
be as fertile as yours.
Boom! One step too far.