Beer for Breakfast

I spent my morning doing important stuff. No details, but trust me on this. Important Stuff. By the time I’d finally showered and dressed, it was nearly time for lunch, so instead of grabbing my regular breakfast bar I headed to Tallahassee’s newest and coolest restaurant, The Edison, for brunch.

  
If location, location, location means anything at all, then the Edison has that in spades. Situated on one side (southeast?) of lovely Cascades Park, The Edison provides diners a front row seat to the park’s ponds, walking trail, a variety of Florida waterfowl, and a dramatic waterfall. I chose outdoor seating on this perfect fall Friday and was just delighted by a pair of egrets landing nearby.

  
My server was exceptional and knowledgeable about the craft beers on tap at The Edison. I ordered a Leinenkugel Harvest Patch Shandy. When the server brought that she also brought me a sample of Southern Tiers Pumking beer. Oh my! About halfway through my shandy I began feeling lightheaded. That’s when I realized I was essentially having a beer for breakfast. Oops!

  
My meal was good, not outstanding, though. I had a whole wheat flatbread topped with sundried tomatoes, broccoli rabe, and chicken, among other ingredients my uneducated palate wasn’t familiar with. The flavors blended nicely, but I found it a little dry. I’m no food critic, but I thought it needed a light olive oil or cheese base. The meal was served with a side of fries that weren’t served quite hot enough for my taste.

The Edison is still new.  Overall it has great ambience, and I observed impressive looking meals being served. In addition to the multi-level restaurant there’s a wine bar, a casual coffee area, and a great indoor bar with a pair of big screen TV sets. I will definitely give The Edison another try.

   
   
    
 Peace, people!

Irrelevant story

Oh my goodness! You must read this post by inesmjphotography.com. Beautiful photos and a chilling tale.

inese's avatarMaking memories

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Having a real summer ( I use the term loosely) in July here in Ireland is something of fiction. Some people live here all their life still waiting for their first summer. This year they finally have got it, but in October.

Last Friday afternoon, a couple of hours before the sunset, I went for a walk around beautiful Tramore Bay & Backstrand, enjoying unusual weather, soft light, and tiny wildlife. I don’t have a real macro lens and have to manual-focus my trusted 70-200, but it is how I like it.

At home, I picked up some images, resized them, added them to the draft of my new post, and started thinking about a story to match.

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I was almost ready to start writing, but got a “visit” to my blog and paid a “visit” back.  It is where I read a remarkable story that  brought back my own memories.  A story I want to share…

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Wasting Beer

Four things one should never waste:

1. Time

2. Wine

3. Beer

4. The love of a good man.

Last night I dropped a bottle of beer on the cool green tile of my kitchen floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Beer went everywhere. I stood rigidly in place thankful that I was wearing flip flops instead of being barefooted. 

Slowly I backed out of the mess and began prioritizing cleanup tasks. Of course, that’s when Studly Doright, fresh from his shower, came strolling barefoot down the hallway adjacent to the kitchen. 

“Halt!” I barked. 

I kid you not, his first words were, “What have you done now?”

Together we cleaned up beer and glass. The entire time Studly reminded (nagged) me about how much he detests glass anything in our predominantly tiled home. But, no one suffered a cut or slipped on the wet floor. I retrieved a fresh beer from the fridge and we had a gourmet meal of hot dogs and sauerkraut. Because that’s how we roll at Doright Manor.

Peace, people!

Broken glass photography from ggalleryslo.blogspot.com

The fluid ounce and the British passport

Need a good laugh this morning? You can thank me later for sharing notesfromtheuk.com.

Ellen Hawley's avatarNotes from the U.K.

A friend in the U.S., L., recently sent me an American measuring cup. I’d asked for it because early in my blogging career I read on an expat blog that the British pint contains one more fluid ounce than the American pint. I tucked that information away in the back of my screaming brain to ponder at some time in the future when I suddenly become competent with numbers.

That’s another way of saying, I ignored the information. Even when I’m working with imperial measures, I don’t measure things by the pint, I measure them by the cup or the fluid ounce. But it nagged at me. What, I couldn’t help wondering at 3 a.m. when my brain was fizzing and the kitten had noticed I was awake and decided to see if he couldn’t sleep inside my nostril, if the ounce itself is different?

Nah, I told myself once morning…

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Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

The home adjacent to Doright Manor in the beautiful Lake Yvette neighborhood about eight miles west of Tallahassee is on the market. It’s a lovely place with real southern charm, so I thought I’d give it a little publicity. 

  
Sandy, the owner, takes excellent care of this home, meticulously maintaining its spacious yard. I always gave her a hard time about making me look lazy. Granted, that’s not that difficult.

   
I love the little gazebo feature on the west side of the property. It makes me want to put on a floral chiffon dress and white gloves for afternoon tea.

 
I didn’t want to trespass, so I didn’t venture into the backyard, but the home sits just off a finger of Lake Yvette.

  
Pictured above are some of the vibrant flowers that adorn this property. 

Sandy really thought she’d retire out here, but circumstances beyond her control necessitated a move into Tallahassee. It’s a terrific place for a retired couple.

Studly Doright and I are great neighbors. We don’t throw wild parties, and we don’t have any barking dogs. Plus, we’re fairly amusing, and we have a dock. 

  
Come take a look!

Peace, people.

Wherein the Book Implies Source

I can smell the leather. Take deep breath and enjoy this beautiful poem by robertokaji.com

robert okaji's avatarO at the Edges

book

Wherein the Book Implies Source 

And words form the vessel by which we traverse centuries, the river
stitched across the valley’s floor, easing access.

Accession by choice. Inorganic memory.

Vellum conveys its origin: of a calf.

How like an entrance it appears, a doorway to a lighted space.
Closed, it resembles a block of beech wood.

To serve as conveyance, to impart without reciprocity.

Framing the conversation in space, immediacy fades.

The average calfskin may provide three and a half sheets of writing material.
Confined by spatial limitation, we consider scale in terms of the absolute.

The antithesis of scroll; random entry; codex.

A quaternion equalled four folded sheets, or eight leaves: sixteen sides.

Reader and read: each endures the other’s role.
Pippins prevented tearing during the drying and scraping process.

Text first, then illumination.

Once opened, the memory palace diminished.

This originally appeared in April 2014 as part of 

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Tiny Kitten Third and Final Update

Cake, the tiny kitten I helped rescue from a Tallahassee storm drain, wasn’t in the feral hold room at Tallahassee Animal Services when I checked in for my volunteer stint yesterday afternoon. I have to admit my heart was sinking as I pondered the possibilities. 

She was so small and weak, and having lived in a storm drain her entire three or four weeks of life, might have contracted a disease. 

I couldn’t locate a veterinarian right away, so I hurried back to the cat kennels to assist potential adopters and to take care of the resident cats, but Cake was very much on my mind.

I couldn’t help but notice that there are a couple of adult cats who have been at TAS since I started volunteering there almost two months ago:

Nancy is a sweetheart. She’s calm and gentle and would be a terrific family pet. The staff estimates her age at 7 years, making her eligible for the reduced senior adoption fee.

 

Nancy–notice her Harry Potter-ish lightning bolt.

Another handsome adult cat is Goldie.  He loves attention and is a playful guy. Goldie is only one year old, but he’s a big boy who needs a home to run around in for exercise! 
 
Goldie is an attention getter.
 
After I’d had an opportunity to do some actual work I went in search of a vet. Fortunately I soon came across a young man who’s been really helpful in the past and asked him if he’d seen the little mostly black kitten that had been brought in on Tuesday, and if so did he know its fate.

To my immense relief he said that the kitten checked out and was in surprisingly good shape considering her shaky start in life. He said she was now at the Humane Society where she’d be available to adopt as soon as she gained some weight. 

I might’ve blubbered something like, “thank you, thank you!” before heading back to the kennels. 

Remember folks, adopt, don’t shop! There are so many adoptable pets who would welcome the chance to join your family.

Peace, people!

  

Invisibility, My Friend in the Wheelchair and Good Tears

This post from one of my favorite bloggers made me cry! Read more at sanseilife.wordpress.com and remember to care for the invisible people.

sanseilife's avatarsanseilife

Rommy sleeping

Hi, my name is Rommy and I am a guest blogger here on sanseilife.

Although I am no longer in this world my mom thinks about me a lot and I try to send her memories to remind her about the great life we had together.

I reminded mom about a friend I made one day.  Laura was in a wheelchair and was very sad.  I went right up for her so that she could pet me.

She told my mom that she was amazed that I was not afraid of her or her wheelchair.

Mom and I would occasionally go on outings with Laura.  She knew all the friendly people and cool places that didn’t mind me coming in their stores.

One day we were in a favorite store and about five people talked to Laura and asked her about her dog friend.  She was the happiest I had ever seen her.  Suddenly animated…

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Making the Cut

I’m suffering from a bad hair week. My stylist and I couldn’t get our respective schedules to work out, so I’m at least seven days overdue for cut and color. It’s not a pretty situation. And it gets worse. She can’t get me in until the 14th of October. By that time I’ll look like Jeff Daniels’ character in Dumb and Dumber:

  
There’s not a lot I can do about my situation. My hair is too short to pull back in a ponytail, and it’s too long to style as usual. I look awful in hats. What’s a girl to do? 
Oh! I know! I’ll find photos of other people experiencing bad hair situations and post them here. 

I might know this chick.

  

Hair my cry!
  
Dude! Pink is NOT your color!

  

The dreaded double mustache.

 
Layered look redefined.

 
 
Just no!
   
I feel better already!

Peace, people!