Category: Commentary

A Little Felt Tree

Studly Doright and I were married in July of 1976. I was just shy of twenty, while he was only 18. Broke, stupid, and in love, we had no idea then of the hurdles we’d have to jump over on our way to 43 years of marriage and beyond.

As our first Christmas as a married couple approached we had to set some new guidelines. I was set on keeping up my family’s Christmas traditions while he was equally set on keeping his. We managed to compromise fairly well, but there was one thing I insisted on–a live tree at least six feet tall. Studly’s family had a smaller tree that stood on a short table, as I recall.

I got my way that year, and we soon had our beautiful tall tree standing in its brand new red and green tree strand awaiting decorations. There was just one problem–we had no ornaments. None. And that tree had eaten up most of our disposable income.

My mom came to the rescue. She gave us three kits of felt ornaments that I could stitch together and decorate. One set featured characters from the Wizard of Oz.

Another set included typical Christmas characters–an angel, a snowman, and a Santa.

The last set featured Christmas trees and wreaths. I’ve managed to lose the wreaths, but my Christmas trees have hung in there (pun intended) all these years.

Several days ago I was scavenging for book five in the Harry Potter series at our local Goodwill book store when I came across a little felt tree hanging from the store’s tree. It was exactly like the one I’d made all those years ago

I wondered if some young woman had lovingly stitched the pieces together, adding shiny sequins where indicated by the kit’s directions. Had she been as nervous about her future as I was about mine?

And I wondered why this poor felt tree came to be all by itself at the Goodwill store. Of course I bought it and brought it home. I introduced the ornament to its counterparts on my tree, and then I let our elf on the shelf comfort it.

Welcome home, little tree.

Peace, people.

Sleep Don’t Come

While my sleepless nights are much more rare these days, occasionally they still plague me. Friday night was a plague night.

A couple of events contributed to the sleeplessness and even my Calm app couldn’t overcome it. One was a totally random, yet bizarre occurrence that I really wish I could write about but can’t because I don’t want anyone I know to read it and realize I’m talking about them. Tallahassee is a small town and one never knows what might come back to bite one in the butt.

The other event was something that I can’t discuss because it affects someone I love. I worried over this person literally all night long. Send some good vibes her way if you’re so inclined.

Bottom line–this post is a whole lot of “I can’t tell you anything.” Weird, because I usually spill all the beans and then some. Maybe later.

In the meantime, here’s a song that always makes me think of sleepless nights. Don’t worry, no one’s cheating on anyone.

https://youtu.be/KdPhc2o7nGs

Thank you, Hank Willians.

Third Time’s a Wake Up Call

As I was getting dressed this morning, a weird piece of music was coming from my bedroom. I leaned around the corner and said, “Alexa, stop.”

The blue ring activated, but the music continued to play.

“Alexa, stop,” I repeated, figuring my connection was weak.

Again, the blue ring activated, but the band played on.

“Dammit. Alexa, stop!” I commanded, walking towards the unit as I spoke.

That’s when I realized the music was issuing from my cell phone, and not the Bluetooth speaker. I silenced the YouTube video I’d left playing on my phone and apologized.

“Alexa, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“That’s okay,” she replied.

I wasn’t certain Siri would forgiven me so easily. So I yelled at her and then told her I was sorry. Her response? “No need to apologize.”

Maybe it’s time I did all of my conversing with these two pretend people. They don’t yell back, and they’re quick to forgive.

Peace, people.

A Festive State Mind

Hallelujah, I’m finally in a festive mood. The humbugs have been banished, and the grinch is gone. What, you might ask, has prompted my change in spirit? It wasn’t just one big thing that did the trick, but a series of small events.

1. My daughter called me several days ago with more than a hint of excitement in her voice. She lives in Illinois, and the long, cold winters there take a toll on her. So to hear her bubbling over with happiness made me happy.

2. All of my Christmas shopping is done and gifts are either en route or already under their respective recipients’ trees.

3. Studly Doright and I attended a company Christmas party at a Humphrey Bogart themed restaurant in DeFuniak Springs, FL. Since I’d just mentioned the film Casablanca in a recent post, I thought that dinner at a place called “Bogey’s” was more than a coincidence. Before we arrived at the restaurant Studly and I both thought it was golf themed. Boy, was he disappointed.

4. Our daughter sent photos and video of our youngest granddaughter performing in her school’s holiday concert. Isn’t she adorable? (The answer is “yes,” by the way.) Note the cute little guy next to her with his puffed out cheeks.

5. Our daughter, who played trombone all through middle and high school, is playing again–now in her kids’ high school pep band. Her family lives in a small town, and the pep band is correspondingly small, so when she realized a parent was playing in the pep band she asked the director if he could use another trombonist. He could, and that’s why she was so excited (refer to #1). She played her first gig on Monday night at a basketball game.

6. We’ve gone three days without finding cat pee where it shouldn’t be. Knock on wood.

7. This morning I’m meeting a friend for a holiday art show at LeMoyne Center for the Visual Arts in Tallahassee and lunch at somewhere still to be determined.

8. Tonight Studly and I will attend the last of his company’s Christmas parties at Giorgio’s in Tallahassee. No ugly sweaters this time–I’m not sure whether that makes me sort of sad or extraordinarily excited. Leaning towards the excited; although, that means I probably need to put some thought into my appearance. At least with an ugly sweater I could just wear jeans.

8. Finally, I found this on Facebook. https://youtu.be/tEjLS0OHWnQ

Peace, people

White Christmas Remake

At the risk of sounding heretical I confess that there are many classic movies I’ve never seen in their entirety: Casablanca, The African Queen, and An Affair to Remember to name a few. And I always manage to tune into them in roughly the same spot. I’ve seen Deborah Kerr meet Cary Grant’s Italian grandmother twenty or more times, but I’ve never seen the beginning of the film.

Likewise, I somehow always tune into White Christmas when Bing Crosby, Danny Kaye and the rest of the crew are making plans to pay tribute to their former general. I had no idea how they came to perform at the Columbia Inn in Vermont, or how they met the Haynes sisters played by Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. I never knew that their former general owned the inn!

A couple of days ago, though, I tuned in just in time to watch White Christmas from the opening credits to the closing ones. I saw every song and dance number–the good ones and the mediocre.

It’s such a pretty movie with a sweet story. I began to wonder if there should be a remake. John Legend could play the Bing Crosby role. Ed Sheeran could take on Danny Kaye’s part. Lady Gaga and Beyoncé could play the parts of the Haynes sisters. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t be sisters in the remake, just a performing duo.

I’d pay money to see that from the beginning.

Now I need to tackle the rest of the movies on my list.

https://youtu.be/w9QLn7gM-hY

Peace, people.

Snow What?

Last night I said to my husband, “Dang, I’m sleepy.”

“Really,” he replied. “And all these years I thought you were Grumpy.”

That’s life with Studly Doright.

Peace, people.

Vigil Auntie Meets Ms. Kitty Claws

All great superheroes have an origin story. Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and became Spiderman. Superman was born on the dying planet of Krypton and was sent to earth by his concerned parents in an effort to save their infant son.

Then there’s Vigil Auntie who came into her powers out of necessity when confronted with the knowledge of a cabal of cats whose plan for world domination includes cornering the market on catnip and urinating on any and every surface imaginable. Vigil Auntie’s powers are legion, but primarily include the ability to find and eradicate unwelcome puddles of cat pee wherever they might be found.

Our intrepid superhero once found herself taken in by an innocent looking feline named Patches at a vulnerable time in Vigil Auntie’s schedule. Fresh from her morning shower, she noted that Patches was sweetly drowsing on a bathroom rug,

“Ah!” thought Vigil Auntie. “This would be an ideal time to apply the new medication meant to prevent Patches from peeing on stuff. I’ll just put some of the cream on my finger and place it in the fold of her ear as prescribed. She’ll never even know I’m here, and the cabal’s plot will be spoiled.”

No sooner had Vigil Auntie squeezed a dollop of cream onto her index finger than Patches opened her eyes a slit. Determined to apply the medicine, the superhero placed a calming hand onto Patches’s back but was met with a hiss.

“Now, now! I’m not going to hurt you sweet kitty,” she whispered. “Just hold still for a…wait. Dammit. Come here.”

Forgetting she was completely naked and vulnerable to attack, Vigil Auntie scooped up Patches who in the blink of an eye became the notorious villain, Ms. Kitty Claws, determined to prevent any attempt at limiting her elimination locations.

Undeterred by Ms. Kitty Claws’ whipcord speed and razor sharp talons raking across her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs, Vigil Auntie successfully applied the medication as directed.

“Take that, you foul villain!”‘she cried in triumph, allowing the cat to escape.

“Bwahaha!” laughed the cat. “You might’ve won this battle, but victory in war will be mine. And just look at the damage I inflicted. Imagine how much worse it will be when you lose!”

Reluctantly Vigil Auntie look down at her naked form. Scratches, scratches everywhere and blood dripping from her thumb.

“My sacrifice was worth it. Next time, just you wait. As God is my witness I’ll never fight naked again.”

As Ms. Kitty Claws slinked off into the hallway she was heard to say, “I should really go pee on something, but oddly enough, I don’t feel the need anymore. Curses! Foiled again!”

Peace, and nonsense, people!

Vigil Auntie

Desperate Times

“Desperate times breed desperate measures”–William Shakespeare

On most days I have lunch alone, either here at Doright Manor or at one of a handful of Tallahassee cafes. Now, before you feel sorry for me you need to know that I enjoy my solitary lunches. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy having lunch with Studly Doright or with a friend, but when I dine alone I pull my Kindle out of my purse and read. And there are few things I’d rather do than read.

One day last week I had a whole list of errands to run, most of them in Tallahassee. I planned the most efficient route and left home around 10 a.m. with the goal of having lunch at the best little vegan eatery in the world, Sweet Pea Cafe.

With my errands halfway done, I drove to Sweet Pea and ordered that day’s special, Tempeh Temptation. I found a table and reached into my purse for my Kindle. Hmmm. No Kindle. I searched every zippered compartment with no luck.

“That’s okay,” I said to myself. “Just read from the Kindle app on your phone.”

“You’re so brilliant!” I answered.

“I know.” I said.

Unfortunately my brilliant self had managed to leave my phone at home as well.

As I waited for the meal to arrive I wondered how I was supposed to eat without a book in hand. How does one do such a thing?

“You can do this,” I gently reminded myself. “Just be more mindful of your meal. Pay attention to every bite. People watch. Listen to the music playing. Enjoy the experience.”

“Shut up! I NEED my book. Or just something, anything, to read.”

Gee, one of us needs anger management therapy.

In the midst of my angst I noticed a woman who’d been reading from a book as she dined at the table nearest mine. She’d finished her meal and as I watched from the corner of my eye saw that she was preparing to leave.

I hesitated for a second before asking, “Excuse me, this is going to sound weird and slightly desperate, by I don’t suppose you have an extra book that I might buy from you.”

Now, the beauty of this is she totally understood my question. The sad part is that she’d just returned from a trip to see her sister and had given the sister a box full of books that she usually carried in her car.

We laughed about our respective reading addictions. She apologized for not having a book to offer. I laughed and told her no big deal while underneath my smile I was thinking, “Couldn’t you at least have saved one book for us, I mean, me?”

She left the cafe as my meal arrived and I began to eat in a desultory fashion. The food was excellent as always, but damn it, how could I enjoy myself when there were intrepid space explorers trapped on an exoplanet in my book, and how the heck was I going to save them if I couldn’t read the remainder of chapter 55 while I chewed?

That’s when an angel came to my rescue. The woman who’d taken a box of books to her sister came triumphantly back into the cafe waving a book.

“Look what I found,” she smiled.

“It must’ve fallen out of the box. It’s yours if you want it….”

I wanted to hug her, but I restrained myself, offering effusive thanks as I tried to pay her.

“Absolutely not!” she said. “I don’t know how anyone can eat alone without a good book for company.”

A true hero, that woman.

I opened the book and began a new adventure. John Grisham paired quite nicely with Tempeh Temptation.

Peace, people.

Pee Patrol

Seems like all I do lately is clean up “accidents” left by our younger cat, Patches. From the time I get out of bed in the morning I’m on constant alert for the smell (Oh, the smell!🤢) and the telltale wet spots of cat urine.

When I return to Doright Manor after a trip to the store or lunch with friends the first thing I do is patrol the entire house, spray bottle in hand, to identify and eradicate cat pee. Before we get into bed and in the middle of the night I do walk-throughs. I’m paranoid and exhausted.

Late yesterday evening, for the first time ever she relieved herself on Studly Doright’s side of the bed. Thank goodness the bedspread prevented the liquid from penetrating to the mattress, but it was a near miss. I was up late doing laundry and changing the bedding. Studly was not pleased.

So, even though she was examined for a urinary tract infection in October, Patches and I are at the vet’s again, hoping to find an answer.

Wish us both luck.

Patches is underneath the calming blanket, and is refusing requests from all paparazzi.

Peace, people.

Christmas Decor at Doright Manor

Doright Manor isn’t a fancy place. Studly Doright and I seldom (never) entertain, and neither of us is overly concerned with having a spotless house.

I do enjoy playing with decorative items, though. And while my styling taste is on the eclectic side it’s also not expensive. All those years of having no money taught me how to make do with the decorating resources at hand.

Here’s a little tour of a few of my Christmas vignettes:

The Santa above was purchased for me when I was about four. When Mom passed away it was one of the few items I wanted. The old guy is getting pretty worn, but he’s my favorite decoration.

This Christmas bear would greet guests at the front door if we ever had any. I bought him at a post-holiday sale many years ago.

My mismatched Christmas village is mostly comprised of items I’ve found at garage sales. I like that the items are built to different scales. Imperfection pleases me.

Studly Doright has yet to notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the main hallway. I’ve gone unkissed for several days now. Well not exactly, but no kissing has occurred under the mistletoe.

My preppy reindeer couple and stylized Christmas trees are relative newcomers to Doright Manor. I need a backdrop for them, but nothing has caught my eye yet.

Our main tree is perfect in an imperfect way. I used to do a fancy schmancy tree, but it was sort of boring.

Above are stockings that SHOULD have been given to my children when they started their own families, but I cry every time I think of letting them go. The bear was bought for our daughter’s first Christmas and the reindeer for our son’s. Neither of them holds many goodies, which was a good thing in those years we were so poor.

Since we don’t have a fireplace, our stockings are hung on the bookshelves with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. From left are Studly’s, mine, and the two cats’.

That’s our dining table with Santa and a single reindeer.

Below is my gigantic angel overseeing the nativity. Almost a Gulliver’s Travels situation going on here, but I love my nativity scene.

Scout was interested in my placement of each piece, so I took the opportunity to tell her the story of how Jesus came to be born in a stable and placed in a manger.

Here she is, looking for the baby. Well, that’s my story anyway.

My cowboy snowman is fittingly in the Texas guest room.

This Santa is in one of the guest bathrooms. He is quite discreet when folks need to use the facilities.

On my kitchen hutch is a party of reindeer being hosted by my naughty elf on the shelf. They raise a ruckus in the wee hours.

That’s about it, I suppose. Thanks for taking the tour.

Peace on earth, and good will towards men, people!