I Brake for Turtles

Yesterday I left Doright Manor for an appointment with my optometrist. Since her office is on the other side of Tallahassee, I left early so I could have lunch at Sweet Pea Cafe.

As I drove down Lanier Road, going a little over the speed limit, an oncoming car flashed its lights at me. For those not in the know, that’s the universal signal to slow down, usually because there’s a police officer in the vicinity.

As it turned out, the reason for the flashing lights was a sweet little turtle crossing the road. If I hadn’t reduced my speed, I’d likely have run over him. That would’ve been a tragedy. I always brake for turtles.

Not the actual turtle.

The point of this post? Slow down, save a turtle.

Peace, people.

Are Those Your Knickers?

My beautiful blogging friend, Shirley Blamey, called me via FaceTime from her home in England this afternoon. Her equally beautiful husband, Michael Steeden, joined us on the call. I absolutely love these two—their wit, wisdom, and encouragement have helped buoy me as I attempt to finish my novel during the pandemic.

We’ve enjoyed several FaceTime calls and I’ve become quite comfortable letting these two wonderful people into my life. So comfortable in fact that as I was engaged in conversation I set about the task of hanging some of my delicates up to dry.

All at once I hear Shirley say, “Are those your knickers?”

For some reason I thought my panties weren’t visible on the screen, but sure enough, those were my knickers. I just hope dear Shirley and Mike aren’t permanently scarred by the sight.

Not my panties. Not my clothesline.

Peace, people.

Brand New Pair of Roller Skates

This song came on my 70’s station this morning and reminded me of an old post:

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2014/10/21/roller-skates-and-sexual-innuendo/?preview=true&preview_id=1010&preview_nonce=8afc0c4a83

Okay, back to my writing the novel.

Peace, people!

The Inside Story of the Outside Shower

Yesterday I wrote about Studly Doright building us a temporary shower to use until plumbers can fix our water leak. I shared a few photos, but they didn’t include the faucets or the handy accessories he added.

Notice we have a faucet for cold water and one for hot.
He also added a shelf for soap and shampoo.
And he placed one of the boards at a height that will allow me to shave my legs.

One of the most unexpectedly fun parts of having a shower in the garage is the weirdness of being naked in a place where I’ve never been naked before. So, I’m weird and maybe a closeted exhibitionist. At least I’m clean.

Peace, people.

MacGyver Doright

When I began writing posts for this blog I needed a nickname for my husband. The first one to pop into my head was Studly Doright, based on a cartoon character from my childhood.

Dudley Do Right, not to be confused with Studly Doright.

But also in the running was some version of MacGyver after the tv series about a man named MacGyver who, week after week had to solve some problem or series of problems in order to triumph over evil.

The original MacGyver, Richard Dean Anderson. My oh my.

Since I couldn’t come up with anything clever based on the MacGyver name, Studly Doright won out, but occasionally I really wish I’d gone with the MacGyver moniker. Like right now.

Those that have read my recent blog posts know that we had a water leak here at Doright Manor. The leak went unnoticed for a day, resulting in wet carpet and calls to the plumber. It took awhile to get a plumber out here, so in the meantime, Studly isolated the problem and turned off the hot water.

That was last Friday, a week ago today. We’ve since had the insurance appraiser pay a visit, as well as assorted plumbers and there’s a game plan in place for repairing the plumbing. Unfortunately they won’t be able to begin work until Tuesday. That means we’re still without hot water. That means no hot showers.

I’ve been heating water on the stove to wash my hair and taking sponge baths, but folks, I was not meant to be a pioneer woman. I might have whined once or twice. Studly has been taking cold showers. He’s whined more than I.

But Studly isn’t a whiner by nature, he’s a problem solver, so yesterday he called me into the garage where a variety of materials had been collected.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“As soon as we get this put together, it’s going to be a shower.”

I knew better than to question his judgement. He tends to get a little defensive if I say too much. Instead, I followed his directions and in about an hour we had a working shower with hot and cold running water.

We have to close the garage door most of the way so no one sees us naked, but not all the way so the water has a place to flow.

I didn’t photograph the faucets, so you’ll have to trust me that they were installed on top of the frame. The thing worked perfectly. We both had a hot shower thus eliminating the need for whining.

Now, I texted my kids during the process and my daughter texted this in return:

Yes, Studly didn’t have to MacGyver the whole thing, but his shower has a certain charm that the store bought one doesn’t, and it cost less as well.

The most important thing is, I Can SHOWER!!!

Peace, people!

For Your Amusement

I reached my writing goal today, and the day before, and the day before that. Surely I’m close to an ending, right? I’ve written right at 94,546 words. That seemed unthinkable just a month ago.

For my blog post today I took the easy way out. If you don’t giggle, snort, or guffaw over this one I’ll be amazed.

Peace, people!

We Have Air; Still No Hot Water

On the home front here at Doright Manor we have air conditioning once again. The service man was quick, courteous, and properly covered for the times in which we live. Face mask and gloves, no-contact payment. I was impressed.

A pair of plumbers came all the way from Gainesville, FL, a two and a half hour drive, to map out the layout of our water pipes in order to locate the source of the leak and write up a plan to address the situation. They, too, wore masks and gloves. Their fix isn’t going to be as clean and quick as the air conditioning repair work was, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.

I’ve become rather adept at washing my hair over the kitchen sink with water heated in my tea kettle, but I’m tired of giving myself sponge baths. Our temperature high for the day is supposed to be 89°. I might stretch the water hose out along the driveway to soak up the sun, so this afternoon I could have a warm shower outside. For the neighbors’ sake, I will wear a bathing suit. Still contemplating the logistics.

Wish me luck, y’all.

Peace, people.

For Jim

Oh, Jim,

When I close my eyes, I see your face,

I hear your voice, those words of wry wisdom and gentle humor.

For months I’ve known this day would come, still the news of your passing caught me off guard,

Hit me right in the heart.

Knocked me off my feet.

You were our leader. The one who made the exaggerated gesture—feet off the pegs, legs askew—while riding your motorcycle, making me laugh,

Even as I negotiated the curves on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

You never pushed me to ride over my head, simply let me ride my own pace.

Oh, how I’ll miss you.

Dear Jim,

I hope you’ll sing karaoke in heaven.