Category: Life

St. Andrews

(This is mostly a reblog of a trip Studly Doright and I took to Scotland in the summer of 2013, but I’ve added some photos. One of the most memorable courses the men played was St. Andrews, the very birthplace of golf. The old course at St. Andrews is the site of this year’s British Open and was a highlight for all of us during our week in Scotland. I asked Studly if he’d recognize any of the holes as he watches the open this year. His reply: “Only if they hit into the bunkers or the gorse.”)
Golf in the Kingdom with Studly

Last summer at this time Studly and I were still recuperating from our trip to Scotland. Way back when we lived in Great Bend, Kansas, he began playing golf with a group of men, and they’ve kept up the connection even through our moves to Florida, Illinois, and back to Florida.

Great Bend, KS. golf group
 
These men take an annual golf trip to sharpen their skills and to exchange (mostly) good natured insults. Usually the group heads to Arizona or Myrtle Beach, but last year the men decided to take a big trip and invite their wives. And what better golf destination than the home of golf?
When Studly mentioned the possibility of a trip to Scotland my first thought was, “yeah, right, like that’s ever going to happen.” Studly doesn’t do international. Studly barely does national. He likes his own bed, his own town, his own state. He travelled to Jamaica once on business and swore to never leave the U.S. again, so when he asked me to dig out our passports I thought I was hallucinating.
The trip was booked and away we went. This was the Cadillac of tours. Eight couples flew into Edinburgh (to say it properly think “Edinbutter” and leave out the “t”s) and were met by our driver, Ken, who took exceptionally good care of us all week, dropping the men (and occasionally a couple of the ladies) off at some of the world’s most famous courses and taking the rest of us on excursions to castles and lochs.
 
Golf wives at one of the castles we toured. Mary, Queen of Scots, gave hef last confession here. i got chills thinking about her having been where I stood.
 
The men played both the Old Course and the New Course at St. Andrews. Our hotel for two days was just across the road from the famous 18th hole of the Old Course, the very birthplace of golf. It sounds corny, but the air felt almost sacred, blessed by over 400 years of golf tradition. The beer was darned good, too.

 

see the white building on the right? That’s part of the restaurant at our hotel.
  
  
Yours truly on the famous 18th hole.
 

 
We explored the cathedral ruins at St. Andrews and saw the cafe where Wills met Kate (for tea).

   
    
    
 We drove through the village of Pickletillum the name of which tickled my tongue. And Anstruther, home of world famous fish and chips, which tickled my taste buds.

   

One of the most beautiful places on earth.
 During our stay in Inverness we ladies made a side trip to Loch Ness where we lunched and chatted with Nessie. I’d post a photo of our visit, but wouldn’t you know it? I tried inserting photos into my post, but either I am not smart enough to do so, or I am not subscribing to the level of blog that will allow multiple photos. Bummer. Nessie was so photogenic.
Note: I have since figured out the secret of posting photos; however, I have no idea where my photos of Nessie have gone. The mystery deepens! 

I’d love to visit Scotland again. There was so much we didn’t see, and I’ve lost my Scottish brogue!

Peace, People!

Studly’s “It’s NOT a Man Cave!” Man Cave

In the beginning,

   
    
 …there was a big mess.

But little by little…   
 …there was progress.

And today…

   
…the “It’s NOT a man cave”

        

…is beginning to look like a man cave. 

Studly still has quite a bit of inside work ahead of him, but just having a spot to park all of our motorcycles is heady stuff. 

 

Commemoration

If you could pick one person to be commemorated on this day who would it be and why? 

    

Han Solo. Because, he is freaking awesome.

Nekkid and Skeert

Picture this: A man and a woman, strangers to one another, agree to try to survive in a harsh environment for a period of 21 days. Naked. While being captured on film. 

This is an actual television series in the U.S. 

occasionally participants construct crude clothing; other times they just get blurry in their privates. It’s a disease, I think.

Each participant is allowed to bring one tool or accessory to facilitate their survival. I’d bring a gun to kill the huge snakes in the dark jungle. So far no one’s done that. Perhaps guns are against the rules, or perhaps bullets would count as a second tool.

Typically each couple experiences extreme dehydration, epic weight loss due to starvation, and emotional angst at being naked with a stranger. 

Ok, I made that last part up, but I imagine my attempt at being on Naked and Afraid might go something like this:

Nekkid and Skeert

Stranger Joe: So, what tool did you bring?

Me: A book.

Joe: A book! That’s not a tool!

Me: (Whacks Joe upside the head with my book) Oh really?

Joe: Ok! I guess you made your point. I brought an axe. 

Me: I guess that’ll work. Just don’t ask to use my book. Guess we need to dispense with our clothes. You first.

Joe: (strips) Your turn.

Me: (strips)

Joe: Ha! Ha! Oh my gosh! Can’t Unsee THAT!!! (Drops axe on foot; loses two toes)

Medical crew steps in and takes Joe to the nearest emergency room.

I wander in the wilderness for 21 days, reading my book and munching on berries, occasionally fending off snakes and lizards. In the process I lose 22 lbs. and find my inner goddess.

Peace, people!

We Do Everything Right (So Why Am I So Sad?)

We don’t head to the beach on the 4th of July

We know better after all of these years.

We don’t stay out late on Saturday nights

Indulging in silliness, downing our beer.

We avoid crowded places, concerts, and games,

The stressors outweighing the fun.

No more jostling with shoppers for bargains

Online shopping gets everything done.

Theater movies we seldom attend

The prices and people too much

On Demand provides our viewing now

Yet I feel so out of touch.

Just once in awhile I believe

We should pretend to be much less together:

Go play in the rain, drink a carafe of wine

Brave the crowds in all kinds of weather.

We do such sensible stuff in our sensible lives

So why does that make me so sad?

Perhaps I am not meant to be sensible

Perhaps I’m to be slightly mad.

WordPress and Me–Happy Anniversary to Us

One year ago today on a whim I decided to begin writing a blog. I promised myself I’d post something every day for one month. Really, that was my only goal, just to consistently write. How hard could it be? 

That first month was pure agony. I worried about what people would think. I worried about how many people might read my words. I worried about topics. I worried about fonts and styles. I worried about running out of things to worry about. I’m a great worrier.

After 30 days I think I had five followers. Five. But I found I was enjoying the writing. I even enjoyed racking my brain for topics. And five people were reading my blog. Two of them even seemed to like it.

I decided to keep posting daily for three more months. The agony was still there, but I learned to work with it, to make it work for me instead of against me on most days.

In addition, I learned about tagging my posts–finding the little bits and pieces within a piece that might draw people to my writing. Suddenly I had people from all over the world reading what I wrote and following me. In turn, I found bloggers whose work interested me and began following them. (See below)

We began a give and take of information and support. It was amazing to have others read and comment on my writing. That’s become my favorite part of this adventure.

Three months turned into a year, and I’m proud to say that I’ve averaged more than one post per day for the past 365 days. I have a few more than five followers now, but that’s beside the point. I have fun! 

I’ve learned something wonderful from these writers/photographers/artists:

Stop worrying! Be yourself! Write!

www.http://sanseilife.wordpress.com

https://tlryder.wordpress.com

http://trudistreasures.com

http://inesemjphotography.com/

https://aroilinpain.wordpress.com/

http://shirleysheaven.wordpress.com/

http://notesfromtheuk.com/

http://frommidnighttodawnlight.com/

https://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/

https://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/

https://reachingmeadowlane.wordpress.com/

http://poesypluspolemics.com/

https://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/

https://eurobrat.wordpress.com/

http://movingtowardsthelight.com

http://naturehasnoboss.com/

https://belindacrane.wordpress.com/

https://mommycookforme.wordpress.com/

http://kittomalley.com/author/kittomalley/

http://themischiefmemoirs.com/

https://epicgran.wordpress.com/
https://redswrap.wordpress.com/

I know I’ve left some important folks out. It wasn’t intentional, I promise! 

Peace and thanks, people!

Do You Love Me?

http://youtu.be/azKPeIWdE6I

Well of course you do!

What in Tarnation?

Cursing, even mildly, was severely frowned on by everyone I knew in my childhood days. A “golly!” or “gosh!” uttered by me or one of my friends would result in a tongue lashing and the threat of a good old fashioned soaping of the offending mouth. Although no one, including me had ever actually seen someone have their mouths washed out with soap the thought was daunting enough to curtail, if not completely halt, the use of four letter words.

Of course once we became rebellious teenagers the taboos against cursing lured us into dangerous territory. First came “darn” then “hell” then “damnit” before we became masters of the combo curse, “Damn it all to hell!”

I might have been considered a cursing prodigy, so quickly did I incorporate proper technique into my daily language. And I was an astute cursing judge, able to discern instantly the level of experience another had with the fine art of four letter words. We had a band director at good old Floydada high school who threw out phrases like, “I don’t give a hell!” Novice! 

There are folks I know who are non-cursers. My mother-in-law, Saint Helen, falls into this category; although, on occasion I have heard her say she didn’t give a “continental dam” about something. It was shocking, to say the least.

Nowadays I hardly curse at all, apart from the occasional outburst, usually reserved for indicating someone’s total lack of common sense. Now that everyone’s doing it, it just doesn’t seem so rebellious. I feel like bringing back some good old fashioned curse words like “tarnation” and “dagnabbit” or “dadgum.”

So, what in tarnation are we gonna do about that dadgum congress, dagnabbit!?” Oh, that seems so insufficient.

Peace, people!

  

Inside Out (Sort of a Review)

Wednesday is Studly’s night to play in the men’s golf league at Southwood in Tallahassee.  One might think that playing both Saturday and Sunday morning would satisfy his golf addiction, but one would be wrong. 

I don’t mind this Wednesday ritual, though. For one thing I don’t have to cook a meal on Wednesday nights, but more importantly I am free to do just about anything my heart desires on Wednesdays. As long as I’m home by 8:30 p.m. After that I revert to a pumpkin I think. I’ve never tested the theory, but it could happen.

Some Wednesdays I head to the beach. It’s a great day for that because apparently tourists believe the beach to be closed mid-week. Please don’t tell them otherwise. 
Other times I see a movie that I’m positive Studly Doright would rather die than see, such as Magic Mike XXL. I saw that last week. Ok story; great nearly naked men. I should have waited to see it on tv.

This afternoon I watched Inside Out, the new Disney/Pixar offering. Of course the theater was full of moms and grandmothers each with one or more kids in tow. My first thought was, “Crap. Darn kids are going to be fussing, and crying, and raising Cain all through this movie.” And it started off a bit slowly–typical Disney. But then it sucked me and all the other little darlings in. 

The children in the audience ranged in age from two to fifteen and they were spellbound. The younger ones were captivated by the colorful emotional characters: Joy, Sadness, Fear, Disgust, and Anger, who live inside the control center of a little girl named Riley. I’d worried that they’d be uninterested in the storyline, but the action was enough to keep them in the game.

After explaining a little about Riley’s core memories, Riley’s emotions are set to enjoy smooth sailing. Then Riley turns 11. That in itself would have brought about changes, but to add insult to injury her family moves across the country from Minnesota to San Francisco and a series of unfortunate events throw her emotions into chaos. To fix the emotional train wreck, Riley’s emotions have to work together in new ways. 

This is a great movie. Go see it by yourself if you have to, but go see it. If there’s a pre-teen in your life make sure they see it, preferably with you or someone that cares about them. There are some emotional moments, given the characters ARE emotions, but there are some excellent conversations just waiting to happen once the lights come up. I heard the beginnings of a few as I lingered during the closing credits.

I’m hoping for a sequel. After all, Riley’s new control panel has a big red button with PUBERTY stamped on it. 

 

Peace, people!

To Myself at 18

What’s the rush?
Why the urgency?
Just a few years
Ago you were 12,
Riding a bicycle
Pigtails flying
Elbows scraped.

Take a moment to
Be a young woman
Out exploring in
This world alone.
Don’t be hurried
To plunge headlong
Into domesticity.

Your choices won’t
Be easy, my friend
Perhaps they aren’t
Meant to be clear,
But you’ll make it.
You’re strong and
weird and wonderful.

Yesterday I caught myself thinking about my grandchildren and how quickly they’re growing. The oldest two are on the verge of becoming teenagers. I became a little weak in the knees thinking that when I was that age, unbeknownst to me, I was a mere six years away from settling into marriage with Studly.

Six years was the distance between goofy slumber parties with my friends and keeping house for a husband.

My choices weren’t
Clear back then,
Perhaps they never
Were meant to be.
I do love my life,
Even while I wonder
What might’ve been.