Tag: blogging

Take Heart

Hand-written notes are a rarity these days. People text or tweet, hit the send button, and voila! Instant delivery. I’m guilty of choosing the path of least resistance myself even while I value the art of a beautifully executed note.

One day last week I was walking between shops in northeast Tallahassee when I spotted a folded slip of paper on the sidewalk. (I marked it up to protect the recipient’s privacy.)

Intrigued I picked the paper up and looked around. No one was near me, so I opened the note. You’d have done the same, right?

Ignore the questionable spelling and the substitutions of “U” for “you” and “2” for “to”. This is an encouraging note. I’d have been pleased to have received such a missive.

My friend Flo in Tennessee writes great notes. She finds humorous cards and sends along her thoughts in lovely cursive.

My friend, Lila, also has a knack for notes:

While writing this post I realized that I have saved two huge files filled solely with hand written notes! Some are silly, some sweet, some outrageous. As I went through them I realized they’d fill up a binder. I think I just found a project for this year. I might need to stock up on tissues, though. Tears might be shed.

Peace, people.

Serendipity

There have been times in our almost forty-two years of marriage when Studly Doright and I have had less than two cents to rub together. I’m talking dead broke with no relief in sight. And still life went on. Somehow we worked through those bleakest days. Even in the worst of times there was fun. Studly could take rain and turn it into sunshine while I was still bemoaning the lack of an umbrella.

We were reminiscing this weekend about a trip we’d taken with our two kids to Texas for our niece, Christie’s graduation from high school. We were living in North Dakota at the time, so the journey was not one to be taken lightly. And while things had begun looking up for us money-wise, we were still a long way from having much in the way of disposable income.

The family celebrations in Texas were wonderful and we began our journey back to North Dakota feeling renewed by all of the love our kinfolk poured onto us during our all too brief visit. And while we’d carefully budgeted our travel money, when we reached the halfway point we realized we were down to $20. We could either buy food and sleep in the car or get a really cheap (crusty) hotel room. And, by the way, we still needed money for gas. Things looked a bit bleak.

This was in the days before ATM cards, and most establishments were leery about cashing checks drawn on out of state banks. Studly, though, decided to give it a go. He bypassed a row of hotels before pulling up in front of a La Quinta Inn in Omaha, Nebraska. I kept my fingers crossed while he went inside to test his luck. When he returned he had a bemused look on his face.

“What?” I asked. “Would they not accept a check?”

“Well,” Studly grinned. “The desk clerk looked at my check and said, ‘Are you related to Bob Noyes?’ I told him Bob was my uncle and the clerk told me that of course I could write a check. When I asked if I could write it for extra cash, he gave it a thumbs up.”

“What? Why?” I asked.

“Apparently Bob Noyes is a senior vice-president of La Quinta Inns.”

“But that’s not YOUR Uncle Bob!” I protested.

“He only asked if Bob Noyes was my uncle. Do I have an uncle named Bob Noyes?

I had to admit he did.

So thanks to an angel at La Quinta Inn in Omaha and a bit of serendipity we stayed in a nice, safe room for the night and had money for food and enough gas to return to our home in Linton, North Dakota. Travel mercies are a real thing, y’all.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #201

Usually my snapshot blog posts are of pretty things: flowers, pajamas, winged insects, etc. Today’s offering, though, is just gross.

See that mucus-y blob on my rear view mirror? I’m calling this one, “Look! A Loogie!”

The great glob of spit wasn’t there when I locked my car and went into a Walmart in Tallahassee, but it was gleaming at me when I returned with my purchases. I’m fairly certain the culprit was the man who was parked next to me and gave me a withering look that was perhaps prompted by my T-shirt:

I guess he’s just not ready to give peace a chance.

Peace, people.

Precocious

On Saturday I drove into Tallahassee in order to stay out of Studly Doright’s hair. Since he can’t play golf right now due to a recent back surgery, he’s embarked on a series of projects that I’m not adept at taking part in, such as cleaning the carburetor and spray painting the frame of a PW 80 Yamaha he’s fixing up for our grandkids.

I tend to be something of a bull in a china closet when working in the shop. Parts break, stuff gets lost, paint goes everywhere except where it should. Studly is patient, but after so many goof ups he shoos me into a corner.

My escape from Doright Manor took me to Target where I wandered the aisles picking up items on a shopping list. I made goofy faces at little kids and chatted with their moms, sniffed scented candles and hefted different styles of bookends.

I created backstories for people I encountered–the woman dressed in all black was in the federal witness protection program, the elderly gentleman wearing old-style khakis and a button down shirt had made millions in the stock market only to lose it all in the last recession. His gold digging trophy wife had left him for a still wealthy man, only to return because the sex was so damned good.

My imaginings were disrupted by a crash followed immediately by a harried father of three sternly reprimanding the oldest of his children.

“Isabelle, what did you do?”

Isabelle, who appeared to be six, or thereabouts, said, “The boogie boards just fell over.”

“Did you have anything to do with the boogie boards falling over?”

“Maybe, Daddy, but they were stacked so deceptively.”

The dad and I made eye contact. Neither of us laughed; although, it was a near thing. He’s going to have his hands full with Isabelle.

I wandered a bit more before returning to Doright Manor. Thanks to Isabelle I have a new excuse for my klutziness.

Peace, people.

All Our Children

Fox & Friends host: “These aren’t our kids. … It’s not like [Trump] is doing this to the people of Idaho or Texas”

Brian Kilmeade: “Like it or not, these aren’t our kids”

Peace, people!

Train in Tallahassee

Studly Doright would rather have a root canal without local anesthesia than attend a concert. He isn’t a big music fan and has even less interest in rubbing shoulders with the hoi polloi. I’m the exact opposite, in fact, I’m a proud member of the hoi polloi, and if possible I’d go in search of live music every day. I’m not averse to attending concerts on my own, but they’re so much more fun with a friend.

When I read that the group Train was appearing in Tallahassee I began hinting that I’d like to go. Studly, however, wasn’t taking the bait. I’d about despaired of getting to see Train when one of my Meetup friends posted the concert on the app. With the click of a couple of buttons I’d bought my ticket and was set to go.

Four of us met at the Cascades Park amphitheater on Thursday night to enjoy Train. It seemed the perfect way to celebrate the summer solstice.

I fought off gnats to take that photo above. Next to me is Shavani, then Martha, and Mary Kay.

Although the opening band wasn’t scheduled to play until 8, we’d arrived at 6 p.m. to score a good spot in the grassy general admission area. The temps were in the mid-90’s, a storm was building to the west, and the humidity was intense. We even had to take shelter from lightning for a while. The shelter was an air conditioned bar with cold beer, so it wasn’t much of a hardship.

A local band, Brightside, kicked things off right on time. They were fun and energetic even as they battled heat and gnats. Once the sun dipped low and we all stopped perspiring both problems were solved and the night was perfect for soaking up the music.

Of course, we were there to see Train and they didn’t disappoint.

They played one hit after another and did a couple of covers that were mind-blowing, including Tom Petty’s Free Falling.

My favorite Train song is Drops of Jupiter. They didn’t play it until the encore, but it was worth the wait. I videoed a bit of it, but my camera work wasn’t great. This one is much better:

https://youtu.be/7Xf-Lesrkuc

What a fun evening with friends! I was happy I got to attend and Studly was ecstatic that he didn’t have to. That’s a win-win.

Peace, people!

Snapshot #200

For my 200th snapshot I’d planned to find something spectacular to capture for posterity. Instead, I accidentally captured my pajama bottoms. They might not be pretty, or provocative, but they sure are soft.

I’ll call this one “Plush PJs”.

Peace, people!

‘Til the Cows Come Home

One cow came home with me on Wednesday night, well, a picture of a cow anyway. One of the Meetup groups I’m a part of enjoyed an evening at Painting with a Twist in Tallahassee where we painted happy cows.

Here’s what Clarice (Yes, I named my cow) looked like after I’d worked on the background. You will perhaps note that I’m not all that accomplished at the fine art of painting.

But I did progress during the evening:

Clarice appears to have let her bangs grow out. Why on earth does my cow have bangs?

I know she didn’t look all that happy in the photo above, but I kept plugging and voila! Isn’t she something? You can answer that any way you choose.

I was the least capable of the four of us who were part of the Meetup group:

We did have a great time, though, and painting is s great way to get to know people. For instance, they all now know that I have a rich vocabulary of swear words. &@$%# cow.

Peace, people!

Snapshot #199

I call this one, Zöe Yellow, because I discovered it in the al fresco dining area of a Zöe’s restaurant in Tallahassee. It was too hot for me to eat outside, but the flower seemed to be thriving.

Peace, people.

Odd

These past couple of days I’ve been getting some odd “likes” on my blog. People with handles containing lots of random letters and numbers similar to “xton1235.ocwdx.com” and “strsex9542.swrdp.com.” Note, I didn’t use actual links, lest I trigger some response.

These “likers” never comment on my posts, so I don’t have an opportunity to mark them as spam, but they seem to follow even my comments on other posts, “liking” things I like and the comments I make.

Are any of my blogging friends seeing similar occurrences? I feel like something isn’t right with this sudden onslaught (there are at least ten different odd handles clicking the like button on my posts) am I being paranoid or should I be concerned?

Peace, people!