Category: Commentary

Faerie Dwelling Construction Continues

After a rigorous and righteous game of golf (he shot four over par), Studly Doright led the grandchildren and me in completing the building of a faerie home. 

Dominique and I placed pebbles strategically.

   
We added a door and a mossy door mat.

  

Then we headed out back to place the house on the stump of a tree that Jackson had chopped down earlier this week.
    
 

 
 After much trimming, the house was secured to its stump. 
 Tomorrow, we’ll add decorative items to welcome our wee friends.

Peace, people!

Building for the Wee Folk

Doright Manor is set in the midst of a delightful forest in the Florida panhandle. From our screened in porch we enjoy the shade of oak trees, the majesty of pines, and the splendor of magnolias, along with all of the critters that call the forest home. 

I’ve always thought it the ideal place to offer sanctuary to fairies if we provided a proper home for the wee folk. Studly Doright wasn’t convinced that we needed a fairy home, though, until he saw the one at Saint Helen’s home in Hereford, Texas, on our visit in May.

 

Studly’s brother, Shaggy Doright, built Saint Helen’s fairy house.

When we knew we’d be entertaining our Dallas grandkids for two weeks, Studly decided that constructing a fairy home would be the perfect activity.

And so it begins: 

We each had our respective tasks:

   
    
    
    
  

  
 Mine consisted of documenting the process and staying well out of the way.

We didn’t quite complete the project yesterday afternoon. Studly and I ran out of energy before reaching the finish line. But we made a good bit of headway.

Tomorrow is another day.

Peace, people!

Trial Separation

“Trial Separation”

Relax, Studly Doright and I aren’t splitting the sheets. Heck, after 40 years of marriage it would be a little ridiculous to call the whole thing off just when life is getting good. Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t days when I have to restrain myself from throwing him out a window. 

  
Studly outweighs me by about a hundred pounds, though, so he’s probably safe. Plus we live in a single story home, but don’t think I haven’t occasionally wondered what a good surprise shove might accomplish. (Note to self: delete this post in case of police inquiry.)

No, I’ve decided for the sake of my sanity to take a break from Facebook. This might not sound like a huge issue for most folks who check in once or twice a day to see what’s going on with their friends, but I have an addiction to this social network, spending as much as two hours a day scrolling through FB statuses on my phone.

I know that’s sad, but in my defense after so many cross country moves Facebook has become my best means of keeping in touch with family and friends. Lately, though, I feel such anger and disappointment that I’m not sure I want to keep in touch with anyone via Facebook. 

Of course my own sense of right and wrong is to blame here. Increasingly I have found it more difficult to ignore the racist comments and the outright lies being peddled as truths. Rather than call someone out as being a lying sack of shit, I’ve chosen to separate from them for a bit. How’s that for diplomacy?

Peace, people!

Written in Meat Loaf

I’ve gradually been reducing my dosage of the anti-depressant, Effexor over the past year and just last week stopped taking it altogether. There have been a few shaky, brain shivery moments, and a couple of emotional outbursts, but knock on wood, I’m finally done with this mind controlling drug.

Vivid and unusually scripted dreams have accompanied every step down in dosage. Several nights ago I dreamt that I was in my hometown of Floydada, Texas, for a reunion of sorts. There were a good many people present with whom I’d attended school, as well as several family members. All of whom are now deceased. 

Maybe that should have creeped me out, but I found their collective presence comforting. They all appeared to be having a good time.

At some point a former physical education teacher approached me, and we visited for some time. I hadn’t particularly cared for her, nor did she like me much back in my junior high school days. Our dream conversation was convivial, though, until she took umbrage at something I said and assigned me the task of writing an essay. 

“No problem,” I smirked, “I write essays in my sleep.”

So I composed a quick essay on the prescribed topic of the Joys of Exercise and submitted it to her. She refused to accept it, saying she’d clearly demanded it be written in meat loaf, and that I wasn’t free to return home until I’d accomplished that feat.

Painstakingly I etched the attention-getting introduction and overarching thesis statement into an unbaked meatloaf, followed by three supporting paragraphs, and a resoundingly strong conclusion. Then the meatloaf was cooked to perfection.

My words disappeared in the cooking process, but Ms. P. E. Teacher was satisfied and I was allowed to leave.

Now, my amateur dream interpretation skills have led me to conclude that my subconscious was dwelling on the temporary nature of all things. Or maybe I was just in Effexor withdrawal. You be the judge.

Peace, people, but wait, there’s more!

There’s meat loaf, and then there’s Meat Loaf.

http://youtu.be/rezC6AvMgvc
 

Wild Adventures: Day One

The adventure started at breakfast when Jackson celebrated by putting whipped topping on his Eggo waffle.  

Once we were all dressed we headed to the Wild Adventures amusement park in Valdosta, Georgia.

   

Dominique was all smiles until I confessed that I weigh 300 lbs. just as we were getting underway. “You don’t weigh over 40 pounds do you?” I asked, pointing to the warning sign on the car in front of us:  
She was ready to climb out before I told her I was just kidding.

The three of us got soaked on the Roaring Rapids. Considering the temperature was in the mid 90’s, the drenching felt wonderful.

 
We rode it twice back to back. The operator didn’t even make us get out of the boat for our second go around.

For much of the day I was a spectator. It seems I didn’t need to ride every coaster in the park. Maybe I’m growing up finally? Jackson and Dominique are in the very top car of this ride that went backwards, forward, then backwards again.
  
Several of the rides were nearly devoid of riders. No long lines in the sweltering heat!

   

We’re going back for another go tomorrow. Wish me good health and endurance!

Peace, people!

A Little Help, Please

I’m trying to come up with something for dinner that has no calories. 

  
Tempting, but Studly Doright doesn’t like to hear me (or anyone else) crunch their food.

How about settling for LOW calorie instead of NO calorie:

  
I wonder if the fruit slices and garnish are figured in the caloric total, because I’m certainly going to eat those, as well.

If I could find a way to ungain the weight I’ve repeatedly lost over the years I’d be the skinny woman I know lives somewhere inside me.

  
She’s a noisy broad. 

 

Hanging With The Grands

I’m having such a wonderful time with my grandchildren, Dominique and Jackson, this week. 

We stopped by Studly Doright’s (Poppa’s) office.

 

Aren’t they cute?
 
Later in the day Jackson and I went for a walk around the neighborhood. He’s all about asking me to challenge him to do physical stunts, such as climbing trees and jumping over obstacles. I’m such a wimp, though, that I can never come up with a suitable activity.

I loved his question, “Nana, do you have any trees that need climbing?”

  
Dominique and I spent an hour making bird feeders out of pine cones, peanut butter, twine, and seeds. 

 Here are the final products:

 

Now we need to hang them.

The kids chopped down a couple of saplings.

 

Jackson is a born lumber Jack.
 While I watched from a safe distance. 
 

Gator in the House

I succesfully rendezvoused with our son Jason in Jackson, Mississippi, and brought our grandkids, Dominique (13), and Jackson (10), home with me to Havana, Florida. No sooner had we gotten unpacked than Dominique headed to the lake with her fishing pole, and Jackson suited up to ride his minibike.

   
 

I had a glass of wine and handed over supervisory duties to Studly Doright, aka Poppa.

Dominque caught a fish right off the bat.

 
Prompting Jackson to come join in the fun:

  
And then our resident gator made an appearance:

 

 
I believe I’ll go have another glass of wine within the safe confines of Doright Manor and pray that no one falls prey to our reptile friend. 

Peace, people.

Craving Pizza

If pizza were a man, I’d have married it. 

Do you, Leslie, take this Pepperoni with onions and pineapple, for greasy or not, through thick and thin crust, with marinara or Alfredo, ’til high cholesterol do you part?

I do.

You may eat the groom.   

I saw a tshirt today that read, 

Can’t get out of bed.
Send help and pizza.
Or just send pizza.

Bravo. Bravo. Now if we could do something about those pesky calories.

  

Peace, people.

What Does the Fox Say?

                     What Does the Fox Say? 

Apparently this one just said, Zzzzzzzzz! I discovered the gray fox at the Tallahassee Museum Thursday morning, as he indulged in a nap while nestled in the fork of a tree.

 
To be honest, I didn’t see him, so well did he blend with his surroundings, until a little girl pointed him out to her grandparents, and I was lucky enough to benefit from her sharp eyes.

Below is the photo before I edited it to make Mr. Fox more visible. He was well camouflaged, eh?

 
I’ll post more from the museum over the next two weeks.