How Do You Like Your Eggs

While Studly Doright played golf on Saturday morning I watched the 1936 film, “The Plainsman,” starring Gary Cooper as Wild Bill Hickok and Jean Arthur as Calamity Jane. The old movie wouldn’t be deemed politically correct nowadays with its portrayal of Native Americans as aggressive savages and women as nothing more than flies in the ointment of men’s lives, but it wasn’t without humor.

In one scene Gary Cooper asked another cowboy how he liked his eggs. “Well,” said the man. “I like them just fine.”

I couldn’t help but giggle. Studly walked in about that time and asked me what was so funny. He’s an aficionado of good one liners, so he got a chuckle out of the egg quip, as well. I then recalled the first time anyone asked me how I liked my eggs.

I’d gone with my grandparents to Houston to see the oldest of their three children, my Uncle Jack. I might’ve been five, and I adored Uncle Jack. He lovingly called me a little jackass–which I, in turn, took to calling others, much to my parents’ chagrin.

On one morning of this trip Uncle Jack treated us to breakfast at an International House of Pancakes. I’d never been to one before, and it was the most wonderful place I’d ever seen. The variety of pancakes on the menu was staggering. I took my time choosing just the right item. As I recall I ordered a combo that featured a pancake festooned with strawberries and whipped cream, along with bacon and eggs.

When the waitress took my order she asked, “How do you like your eggs.”

In my sweetest five year old voice I responded, “Cooked, please.”

Everyone, my uncle, my grandparents, even the waitress, laughed. My Nanny quickly told the waitress that I liked my eggs over easy, but I was mortified. I didn’t order eggs any way other than scrambled for many years after. I was a sensitive kid, you know.

Now, many years later I can marvel at how naive I was. How do I like my eggs? Well, I like them just fine.

Peace, people!

Panama City Beach

Before sending the Texas grandkids on a plane home we had one last hurrah at tourist-y Panama City Beach.

We strolled out on the pier and watched the ocean do its beautiful thing.

I asked a stranger to take a photo of the three of us:

We visited Ron Jon surf shop:


Then we had lunch at Dick's Last Resort where the wait staff is rude on purpose. These hats made great souvenirs and Jackson wore his until we got to the airport.

But they'll still take a photo of you if you ask politely:

After lunch we played a laser game that revealed my extreme lack of ninja skills. We shot zombies in a 3D shooting game that revealed my extreme lack of zombie hunting skills. Finally we ate ice cream at which I excelled. No photos, so you'll just have to take my word for all of the above.

All too soon it was time to send the kids home. Notice Jackson's travel pillow. It's all he really wanted as we shopped today.

Their dad texted to let me know they arrived safely in Dallas at almost the same time I arrived home to Doright Manor. I'll sleep well tonight–and late in the morning.

Peace, people!

Last Day

Today I'm driving the Texas grandkids to the airport in Panama City, Florida, for their flight home to Dallas, Texas. Neither of have them have ever flown unaccompanied, and there are some jitters. Not on their parts, mind you, but underneath this calm exterior I'm going a little nuts.

We've had a good time these past two weeks spoiling these kiddos. Doright Manor will be awfully quiet once they leave.

(Almost) Nothing but Net

Dominique, Jackson, and I had a couple of free hours yesterday so we checked in at The Drop Zone, a Tallahassee hot spot for school aged youngsters. Why weren't these trampoline play areas around when I was a kid?

My photography won't win any awards, but that's okay. Jackson had fun while Dominique mainly lolled around the spectators' area with me.





Peace and trampolines, people!

Jackson’s Project

Poppa (aka Studly Doright) and grandson, Jackson, have been busy in Poppa's shop the past couple of days. Neither Dominique nor I were allowed to participate, so we had nary a clue what might be the outcome.

Late yesterday afternoon we were rewarded with the results of their labor:

It's a miniature katana sword and display stand inspired by a YouTube video Jackson had watched. Tomorrow they're planning on constructing a sheath for the sword.

Here's what the sword was originally:

A scarred paint scraper!

Now, I wonder if they can make me a crossbow in case of a zombie apocalypse….

Peace, people!

Heels

Our granddaughter, Dominique (14), is bright, beautiful, and growing up way too quickly for my liking and too slowly for hers.

One of her closest friends will celebrate her quinceañera (fifteenth birthday) on Saturday and Dominique has been invited to sit at the head table. She already has her dress for the occasion, but needed a pair of heels, and since she isn't flying home until Friday, we had to take action.

I'd love to tell you that she tried on dozens of pairs of shoes, oohing and ahhing over every detail in an effort to find the perfect pair, but that wasn't the case. Dominique marched straight to the rack where a dizzying array of special occasion shoes were displayed, pointed at a pair of silver heels, and said "Those."


No amount of cajoling her to try on a pair of strappy sandals would sway her, so it was done. I didn't know whether to be elated that the process had been so simple or sad because it was over so quickly.

I took her for lunch afterwards at a high end burger restaurant, and she took far longer agonizing over the toppings she wanted than she had over the shoes. Come to think of it, she's a lot like me.

Peace, people.

Risk and Reward

The Texas grandkids are visiting us here at Doright Manor, and they don't always want to do the same activities. Yesterday Studly Doright took Dominique to the Tallahassee Museum for zip lining adventures (Jackson doesn't meet the height requirements) while Jackson and I went to a local arcade.




I didn't take many photos though, because I was too busy being defeated in two player challenges. This kid knows his way around video games.

When we returned home I challenged him to an old-fashioned type of game.


I won, thank you very much.

Hopefully Studly Doright took some photos of his time with Dominique, but I won't hold my breath.

Peace, people!

Bike in a Box

Poppa (Studly) Doright and I keep motorcycles for the grandkids to ride when they come to visit. All year long he searches EBay and Craig's List looking for used bikes that are just the right model and size for each child. Once he gets the bike home to Doright Manor, Studly tinkers and tweaks until the bikes run like brand new ones.

He hit the jackpot with Jackson's little Honda.

But Dominique's scooter wasn't ideal for trail riding. She'd wanted one she didn't have to shift, and that part was great, but the scooter just didn't do well in the dirt.
So Poppa began scouring local ads and found what he thought might be the perfect bike. Unfortunately it came unassembled in a box:


But it didn't take long for the bike in a box to be ready for action.

It's a pretty little off brand thing called a Viper. Contrary to what the guy we bought it from told us, the Viper isn't an automatic, though, so Dominique still doesn't have a bike.

Back to the classifieds and Craig's List we go. It's one adventure after another here at Doright Manor.

Peace, people!

Renaissance Kid

Our youngest grandson, Jackson, is something of an old soul. He's much more interested in shopping at vintage and antique stores than in shops selling toys. When he and his sister visited last summer Jackson found a knife for his collection at Planters Exchange in Havana, Florida. So yesterday morning he asked if we could check out their merchandise.



Dominique has almost no interest in shopping for vintage items, so she wandered and grumbled.

Although, at another shop she was tickled to find a wax apple with a bite mark on it.

And she wanted a picture of a funky door at Planters Exchange, but only if I'd pose with it.

Jackson came home with a new knife for his collection, so our trip was a success.

I'm exhausted, but at least everyone is happy.

Peace, people!

Stalker

I took the Texas grandkids to the Tallahassee Museum today to check out the tree to tree adventures and the resident animals. Unfortunately Jackson wasn't tall enough to tackle the challenge he'd set his heart on, so we just concentrated on the animals instead.


Broken hearted kid^^^

Dominique was more enthusiastic about walking through the exhibits than her brother:

And the only way I could get a photo of both of them in the same shot was from a distance:

We did pick up a strange stalker on our visit.

There's nothing like being stalked by a vulture to make you wonder if there is something he knows about the impending future.

This little museum is a wonderful slice of Florida.