I’ve come a long way, baby,
Still got a long way to go.
Every time I think I’m there,
I find myself laid low
Try to rise above the hate,
Ignore the arrows and slings.
They go low, I try going high,
But, damn, their insults sting.
These days of alternate truths,
Lies, if truth be told,
Just wear me out in spirit,
Got me feeling old
But I have come a long way
And I’ll keep traveling on
The road often will be rough
And I’ve got skills to hone.
Studly Doright and I were in Orlando, Florida, on Monday and Tuesday this week, prior to flying to Shannon, Ireland, on Wednesday. He had meetings to attend, while I had some time on my hands. Monday I treated myself with a trip to one of the outlet malls, but on Tuesday I decided it was high time I visited The Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios.
I walked all the way back to where the map indicated Harry Potter’s world would be. I saw the bus, and I took a selfie in front of #12 Privet Drive, but I was confused. Where was Diagon Alley? I walked all the way around the area, but was stymied. Was this all there was?
I’m such a Muggle, but on a hunch I walked through a nondescript opening in an unmarked brick wall, and voila!
Diagon Alley! Honest, one can’t see this opening from the area where the triple decker knight bus and Privet Drive are, even though they’re just a few feet away. How wonderfully magical to be forced to stumble onto it!
Butter beer is pretty damned tasty; although, there’s no actual beer in it. Drat.
I ogled the newest Firebolt model:
By far the longest line in Diagon Alley was formed outside the wand store. I spoke with a little girl who was still giddy that the wand she purchased had chosen her. I was tempted to join the queue, but I’ll wait until I can bring my grandkids. And a wand in my hands might not be a good idea. I solemnly swear that I’m up to no good.
So, what were my souvenirs?
A pair of scraped palms, and a skinned knee.
I fell, having failed to realize that the curb was about five inches higher than my bifocal lenses led me to believe. Fortunately a couple of young men rushed to my aid, and helped me to my feet. The part that’s the most injured is my pride. It could’ve been much worse, so I’ll take my lumps as a renewed call for caution.
Driving Away
by
Leslie Noyes
At her lowest point
Her car felt like salvation
Four wheels to freedom
Lock the doors and breathe,
Imagine the horizon
Turn the key and drive
A full tank of gas,
She neared the city’s limits
Never crossed the line
Like multi jointed worms, oozing from the earth after a thunderous summer storm, slimy lies wend their way from
Dark places of hiding, feeding on hate and prejudice until the traction they gain propels them through the conscienceless
Oral orifices of greedy politicians. Alternative facts, misrepresentations, broken promises, all squirm from their tongues.
I’m trying to pack for an eight day trip to Ireland with a two day stay in Orlando prior to the flight. So, ten outfits should do the trick, right? Then would someone tell me why I’ve packed a carry on bag to full capacity along with a suitcase the size of Delaware, and I’m still wondering if I’m taking enough along.
Studly Doright’s side of the large suitcase contains exactly one pair of shorts or pants for each day and a complementary shirt, along with an equal number of underpants and pairs of socks. He’s not even taking a carry on bag; although, he will have his golf bag in tow.
I’m stressing out, but I found this message tucked in with the packing humor in Pinterest.
Thank goodness none of the above takes up space in a suitcase. I’m all out.
Peace, people.
For Mother’s Day my son purchased a couple of gift certificates for me for services at Haven, a spa in Tallahassee. I’m a big fan of spas and believe there should be one on every corner, like Starbucks or McDonalds, where patrons just walk up to a counter and order “a deep tissue massage with a side of facial.” Now that would be a perfect world.
I do treat myself to spa treatments fairly regularly, but I’d never been to Haven. Their website was great, and I was able to book my appointment online. That was a big plus, in my book.
Being a bit of an overachiever, I scouted out the location of the spa one afternoon last week when I was in the neighborhood. Inside Haven the vibe was just the right sort of mellow. As an added plus, one of my favorite local cafés, Canopy Road, was nearby.
Today was the big day. I arrived a few minutes early for my 60-minute acupressure massage with Steve Peuckert, and was met at the door by a friendly young woman, Pam, I believe, who had me complete the easy peasy paperwork for a first timer.
One of my pet peeves is going to a new spa and having to fill out two sides of a form. By the time I’m finished I’m more stressed than I was when I entered. But Haven’s questionnaire had five quick questions. Even I don’t mind answering five questions.
Steve took me back immediately and soon I was drifting away into the land of ahhhhhs. I’m an aficionado of great massage therapists, and Steve skyrocketed to the top of my list. The man knows his stuff. I rebooked before leaving the salon.
Haven Spa offers discounts to customers who check in on Facebook, Google+, or Yelp when they arrive at the spa. That’s about as good as it gets, right? Haven might not have a franchise on every corner, but they make it easy to get a wonderful and affordable spa experience.
I didn’t receive any products or free services for this piece on Haven Spa. As usual I just wanted to let my friends in on a really great business. Here’s a link to their website: http://www.ilovehaven.com/
Peace, people.
There are nights when I lie awake, terrified for what the future might hold. Tomorrow is a gremlin crouching in dark
Corners, his fingers wrapped around all the possibilities. There are madmen in charge of our security: liars and mobsters and
Thieves, that some hailed as saviors. But now, those of us who’ve studied history know we’ve crossed lines that may
Never be uncrossed. Who will save us from the gremlin? Who will pry his bony digits from our lives? Only we can save ourselves.
I never cared for endings, the final breaths of dying embers, glowing stubbornly, banked against the coldest
Night. Beginnings, though, bright promises of better days, slipping through the grates, landing on my doorstep,
With a grand thud. Extra! Extra! Dream all about it. Wrap a ribbon around the past. Cap it off with a shot of tequila.
Can you imagine what the Donald would have said if Sessions had been a contestant on Celebrity Apprentice?
Guess the Attorney General doesn’t rate Trump’s scrutiny as much as a minor celebrity on a reality show did. File this under “things that make you go hmmm?”
No Comparison!
Also no hearings, no walk throughs, no round tables. What are they hiding behind closed doors? Can’t be anything good.
Call your senators.
Praying for Eyebrowz 