Tag: blogging

This Old Picture

That’s me holding Ashley and Studly holding Jason.

As I recall this was taken right before Christmas late in the evening. The baby, Ashley, had been sick for several days. Neither she nor I had gotten much rest in that period of time. Studly Doright had just come off a week of working the midnight shift at Northern Natural Gas in Sunray, Texas. He was exhausted and almost as cranky as Ashley and I were. Only three-year-old Jason was in a good mood.

Cue a knock at the door. Studly’s brother-in-law, Steve, and Steve’s dad, were standing on our porch. Steve had a brand new camera and was itching to try it out. On us. Oh mercy.

Reluctantly, I agreed and the result was the American Gothic type image on display in this post. Never one to enjoy having my picture taken, I’m pretty sure I was thinking horrible thoughts about the photographer. Sorry, Steve, if you’re reading this. Thank goodness none of the stuff I wished on you came true. Not yet anyway…

A few years after this was taken our son said, “I really don’t like this picture. It makes us look poor.”

“Well, son,” Studly said. “We were poor.”

“And exhausted,” I added.

At the time, I didn’t like it either, but now I kind of love this old photo. Steve, I forgive you.

Peace, people.

The Pessimistic Optimist

The pessimistic optimist believes

That the glass is half full

Of some noxious liquid.

That the grass is always greener

But the fertilizer

Is toxic

That the shiny silver lining

Is mostly worthless strands of tinsel

This, friend, is a day in the life of someone

Who counts her chickens

Before the eggs have even

Been laid.

Jacksonville Zoo

One of the highlights of the anniversary trip Studly Doright and I took this past week was a visit to the Jacksonville Zoo. We’d heard great things about this particular zoo and we weren’t disappointed.

Knowing the temperatures were going to rise into the high 90’s on Friday, with a heat index of 110° predicted, we checked out of our wonderful hotel room at Margaritaville on Jacksonville Beach early and were at the zoo when the gates opened.

This zoo was kind of magical. The habitats were spacious and creatively designed with walkways for the animals that allowed for closeup viewing without restrictive cages.

In the bonobo exhibit.
This guy was upset that another bonobo was pushing a red bowl around.
Very upset!
From the tiger exhibit.
He was so close to us!
Who doesn’t love a giraffe? We missed seeing the little ones!
This guy was a visitor just like us.
Handsome guy
Shudder!
These guys were taking it easy.
While this one was lying in wait…
This quote by Langston Hughes is one of my favorites.

At each exhibit there were volunteers explaining how the animals had been acquired and the steps taken to provide the optimal habitat for each of the zoo’s residents. It was a great way to spend a few hours.

The landscaping was gorgeous.

Peace, people!

Forty-five Years and a Bad Selfie

In a perfect world every selfie taken on one’s 45th wedding anniversary would turn out perfectly. Alas, I’m not very photogenic and after multiple tries this is what we ended up with.

At least we had a beautiful day and plenty of great food.

Our hotel—the brand new Margaritaville in Jacksonville Beach.
Our pool and our view.
Ahhh!
Give me the beach and I’m happy.

Peace, people!

Fasten Your Seatbelts

Studly Doright and I decided to get away for a couple of days. Our anniversary is on the 30th, so it seemed a good way to celebrate 45 years of marriage. I was going to say “wedded bliss” but that count is only around 20 years. I jest. Mostly.

We left Doright Manor under sunny skies, but about an hour from our destination we ran into a torrential rainstorm complete with lightning and thunder. Visibility was down to about fifteen feet and I had a firm hold on what we lovingly call the “oh shit” handle.

Not even the worst part of the storm…

We’re headed to Jacksonville where we have reservations at the Margaritaville Resort on Jacksonville Beach. Hoping the storm isn’t a harbinger of what’s to come. Of course Studly is sick of hearing me sing “Stormy Weather,” so he might just pull over and kick me out. If you see me hitchhiking on Interstate 10 west of Jacksonville, throw me a towel, please.

Peace, people!

We’re Number 384! We’re Number 384!

Okay, so “We’re Number One“ is a lot cooler and easier to chant, but for one brief shining moment on Sunday morning my first novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, came in at number 384 on Amazon in the Women’s Action and Adventure Fiction category.

And I know what you’re probably thinking—“Leslie, dear, there are likely only 384 entries in that very narrow category…”

However, having tracked my book since it was first published I can assure you that’s not the case. I broke into the top 500 about a month ago after being well above 1,000 for the longest time. And even as I write this I’m back to #505, so it’s always changing. I can’t get too cocky.

I’m wondering if there’s a category in which Mayhem might be number one? How about Women’s Action and Adventure Fiction Featuring Quirky Jugglers? I’d almost bet I’d be in at least the top five.

Peace, people.

http://Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P76RBRD/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glt_fabc_A4MFPQMX415MVVMWDXEH

Have a Nice Flat

In the past six months I’ve had four flat tires—the most recent one just last night. I’m closing in on 65 years on this planet, and I’ve been driving since my 16th birthday. Up until this year I’d had a total of one flat tire. One.

Being the excellent amateur detective I am, I looked at the whole flat tire situation analytically. What location or locations do I frequent where one might end up with a nail in one’s tire? The logical conclusion is my favorite lunch spot. Damn. I’m there almost every day. And their parking lot isn’t great.

I guess I could park in the meat market’s lot next door to the vegan cafe I love. No irony there, right? I’m just tired of spending time at the tire repair shop.

Peace, people.

One Day at a Time

I’ve always been a worrier—the kind of person who worries if she doesn’t have anything to worry about. And now that my life has been turned upside down, I realize how useless my worries have been.

My daughter, who might be the strongest person I know, tells me she’s taking life one day at a time now that her oldest child, my oldest grandson, has been diagnosed with a persistent and stubborn neuroendocrine tumor.

I think that one day at a time thing is a mighty fine idea. Don’t worry about tomorrow. Don’t think about what we might’ve done differently the day before or the day before that. Just live and be grateful for every day.

I’m working really hard at doing just that.

Peace, people.

Wanton

Who can say they’ve never been

Desperate, wanton, in need of

Something they cannot explain?

I admire that person, the one who

Turns a blind eye, a deaf ear to

Temptation, to greed and lust and

All the baser human instincts.

Keep up the exemplary work.