I’m in love with this photo. It was taken as I walked through my neighborhood. I call it, “Moon Over My Forest.”
Tag: Doright Manor
Studly’s Big Birthday Adventure, Part 1
Saturday was Studly Doright’s 59th birthday. Having feasted to the overflow mark on Thanksgiving he wanted no special birthday foods and said he’d play a round of golf to celebrate the big day. I sang “Happy Birthday” as he headed to the golf course while he grinned. I have that effect on people.
When he arrived home after golf, though, he told me to pack an overnight bag. He’d bought some motorcycle parts online and we needed to pick them up. In Metairie, Louisiana, outside of New Orleans! I didn’t quibble and ten minutes later we were on the road.
New Orleans is a five and a half hour drive from Doright Manor, and we made it to the seller’s home around 5:30 p.m. Studly was delighted with his bargain, so while he and the seller stood swapping motorcycle tales (a.k.a. “kicking tires and telling lies”) I booked us a hotel room in Metairie.
After a nice light dinner at PF Chang’s we checked into our hotel and cheered on the Florida State Seminoles from the comfort of our bed.
Knowing the New Orleans Saints were playing at home at noon on Sunday we planned to get up early and be well away from the area before game time. Studly had me find us a breakfast spot using Siri, and with only one little mixup we were soon seated at a table at Willa Jean, a top brunch spot in the central business district in downtown New Orleans.
I had beignets on my mind, but unfortunately they weren’t on the menu. But, oh my goodness! What a menu! Studly, who is a breakfast traditionalist, had biscuits and sausage gravy and proclaimed his meal to be perfect. I enjoyed grilled cornbread with a syrupy butter and a side of bacon. We both believe it was the best restaurant meal we’ve had in years. Check out their website: http://www.willajean.com.
After we left Willa Jean, finding the interstate was a cinch. I snapped this photo of Louis Armstrong just standing on a corner:
Ok, so Satchmo was only there in statue form, but the city was waking up around him in preparation for the game.
Once on the interstate I took a few random shots. Whatever did I do before I had an iPhone?
I’ll finish up my piece tomorrow with photos of our visit to the USS Alabama. For a low-key birthday, we had a pretty grand time. Thanks for reading!
Peace, people!
Snapshot #60
My view from the kitchen sink here at Doright Manor. I call this one, “Happy Thanksgiving.”
Peace, people!
Cooking for Studly: Thanksgiving for Two
Those of you who are new to my blog might not realize that I have a life outside of bashing our president-elect, but I do! I live with my husband, Studly Doright, and our two feline supervisors, Scout and Patches, in our own little piece of paradise that I like to call Doright Manor.
We have two perfect children and five absolutely superior grandchildren (funny how that works, seeing as how Studly and I just barely peek over the average range), but they live far away from our home outside of Tallahassee, Florida.
Studly and I were high school sweethearts in Texas, and in forty years of marriage we’ve moved 14 times, lived in five different states, and I’ve lost count of the number of homes we’ve shared. We aren’t retired yet, but it’s number one on our bucket list.
Studly married me thinking I’d turn out to be a great cook like his mom (Saint Helen) or my mom, (Gingymama), but I had neither the aptitude nor the attitude to develop into much more than a mediocre heater upper. Poor, poor Studly.
Twice a year, though, I focus all of my energies into cooking a kick ass holiday meal. I plan and prepare and check ingredients off of lists and shop and preheat–all the necessary stuff. Sometimes, it all turns out perfectly. Other times we pretend. Wine helps.
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day here in the US. So today I’m baking a pecan pie, hard boiling eggs, and making cornbread. Doright Manor smells amazing. I’ll arise early tomorrow to prep and roast a turkey, make cornbread dressing, a fruit salad, and deviled eggs, along with Studly’s favorite green bean casserole (ugh!) and cranberry sauce. With any luck neither of us will need to pretend that it tastes great. Again, wine helps.
It’s just going to be the two of us for dinner, well and the cats, but I’m thankful that we are healthy and have each other. I’m most thankful that at Christmas we’ll get to see our kids, grandkids, and Saint Helen, when we congregate in Nashville, Tennessee, for a family holiday extravaganza.
Now, the smoke alarm hasn’t sounded even once this morning, so all is well at Doright Manor. I’d best go, though, and open a bottle of wine. Just in case.
Peace, and Happy Thanksgiving, people.
Snapshot #59
I can see this lovely vine from my kitchen window at Doright Manor. Let’s call this one, “A Vine Line.”
Whistle Stop Cafe
Studly Doright bought a new old motorcycle as a gift to himself for his upcoming birthday necessitating a quick trip to Atlanta, Georgia, on Friday evening. About 50 miles outside of Atlanta I saw a billboard for the Whistle Stop Cafe, made famous in Fannie Flagg’s novel, Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe and the film, Fried Green Tomatoes.
I’ve read the book more than once, and I’ve seen the movie enough times to be able to quote entire lines of dialogue from memory, so being something of a kid I began an earnest campaign for us to make a side trip to the cafe on our return to Doright Manor on Saturday.
“Please, oh please, oh please can we visit? I want to yell ‘Towanda!’ at the top of my lungs and eat fried green tomatoes!”
Studly, being the patient man he is grumbled something like, “Hmmmph.”
I took that to mean, “Certainly, sweetheart, whatever makes you happy!”
Of course he was driving in Atlanta traffic at the time, so my interpretation might’ve been off by a word or two.
We spent the night in Atlanta, picked up the motorcycle, which happily met Studly’s expectations, at 10 a.m., and then plugged the address for the Whistle Stop Cafe in Juliette, GA, into the GPS.
Juliette is about 55 miles south and slightly east of Atlanta, nestled in the gently rolling farmland and forests of southeastern Georgia. Turning into its main street felt like stepping back in time.
Studly and I arrived just in time for lunch. That’s his “new” ’72 Yamaha R5 in the photo.
For an appetizer we had the famous fried green tomatoes. So delicious!
The cafe isn’t large, so be prepared to wait for a table should you ever visit. Studly and I sat at the horseshoe shaped lunch counter.
He had fried chicken and I ordered grilled catfish and a glass of sweet tea. Both meals were seasoned and cooked to perfection. The prices were reasonable as well.
I kept expecting Idgy and Ruth to come strolling in the door.
After lunch I wandered around main street for a bit, but I knew Studly was eager to get his purchase home to see if it would run. I did buy a brand new Brighton bag, retail price $145 that I bought for ten dollars before we started home to Doright Manor. That was my Towanda moment. Here’s Kathy Bates with hers:
Peace, people!
Home Improvement
When we purchased our home over two years ago we knew eventually we’d want to do something about the front courtyard area. The previous owners, who’d built the home, paid a gardener to tend the two small plots on either side of the front walkway twice a month, but Studly and I weren’t crazy about taking on another bill. Actually I remember the conversation going something like:
Studly: We can’t afford both a gardener and a housekeeper.
Me: Cross off gardener. Check.
And that was the end of that story.
Except that we didn’t really think about the amount of yard work this courtyard area required. There was weeding and raking and digging and more weeding and since neither of us wanted to do any of that it just didn’t get done. Before too long Doright Manor’s entryway was overgrown and under utilized.
I had the bright idea of having the area done in paving stones, but the estimate in the neighborhood of seven grand put a damper on that idea. Occasionally I’d go putter about trying to clean up all the unidentifiable growing things, but my efforts made it even uglier.
Finally Studly and I drew up a plan to do something simple and hopefully manageable with our courtyard. That was months ago, and we worked on it a little bit in the evenings and on weekends.
We had to till everything up and cap off sprinklers.
Then we put down heavy duty matting and laid out some big stones before adding mulch.
We plan to add a decorative potting bench and container plants on this side.
Then on the opposite side we placed a little bench that I found at the French Country Flea Market on Friday. I fell in love with the butterfly shape.
Now we need to personalize the courtyard with accents and plants for a more finished look. I’m not much of a decorator, so I know there will be a good deal of trial and error involved, but maybe this is something we can keep in good order without too much effort from a pair of non-gardeners. And I get to keep my housekeeper.
Peace, people!
Snapshot #27
This one is called, “In My Pajamas Before 7 p.m. on a Saturday Night” or “Too Sad for Words.”
Havana Shopping, Part 1
I discovered a gem of a cafe today– Melba’s Place inside The Shoppes of Havana Trading Company just down the road from Doright Manor in Havana, Florida.
Manager Melba Ginsberg mixes up a mean chicken salad. I had the “Dilly Dally” salad. Oh. My. Goodness. It was so fresh and delicious I darn near swooned.
I tried a sample of “The Coronation” and found it equally tasty, but I might have a an addiction to dill. I’d start looking for a Dill Anon group, but I’m not ready to give it up.
While I was making a fool of myself inhaling “Dilly Dally” Melba and I visited about her early life in Florida. She was born in South Georgianot far from Havana, but her family moved to the Lake Okeechobee area when she was a child. She grew up in a small town where she was a majorette in the marching band.
Melba told me that when she went to choose an instrument from the band room (everyone had to play an instrument) only the bass drum and baritone remained. Melba isn’t very tall and I giggled imagining her toting around the big bass drum. She chose the baritone, though, which isn’t that much smaller, and played it in concert band.
Melba now finds herself near the place of her birth having returned to the area to be close to her daughter. On a visit here Melba’s daughter fell in so in love with Havana that she opened a business here, The Shoppes at Havana Trading Company.
I took way too many photos of The Shoppes to put into one post, so I’ll continue this later, but check them out online in the meantime. And if you live anywhere near Havana, The Shoppes are well worth a trip.
If I held my breath just right and chanted in the proper key maybe this link will provide more information.
@ShoppesHTC
If not, here’s Melba’s card, charmingly posed on my denim covered thigh. This is a fancy blog, don’t you know.
Melba’s cafe features heavenly ice cream, too! I had a scoop of caramel sea salt. So much for my diet.
Peace, people!
Bed and Breakfast Interlude
Twelve hours without electricity (courtesy of Hurricane Hermine) and the joys that it brings (hot showers, air conditioning) resulted in Studly Doright and I staying in a Bed and Breakfast Inn on Friday night.
We’d tried to find a hotel in Tallahassee, but the ones with electrical power were all completely booked, while ones without power wouldn’t have improved our lot. I looked farther afield and found the 1872 John Denham House in Monticello, FL.
Even though the grounds of the inn had suffered at the hands of Hermine, this gorgeous home experienced a loss of power only briefly and was an air conditioned oasis on a hot, humid Florida day. The cool air felt so good when we stepped into the foyer that I almost cried.
The inn’s proprietress gave us a brief tour of the first floor before showing us to our room.
Studly Doright and I were fortunate to book the honeymoon suite. It was a great deal more charming than the room we stayed in at The Camelot Inn in Amarillo, TX, 40 years ago.
I took these photos after our night in the room, so the poorly made bed is my fault. It was impeccably staged for our arrival.
After a restful night Studly arose early to play his Saturday golf game, leaving me to enjoy breakfast without him. I didn’t think to take take photos of the meal, but it was outstanding, consisting of a fluffy soufflé, fresh fruit, yogurt, and homemade biscuits with a variety of homemade jams and jellies.
I met two of the other guests at breakfast, Gordon and Addison, who are members of a meteorological research team from the University of Oklahoma. The two men used the inn as a base while studying Hurricane Hermine. I pried as much information from them as possible, trying not to be too obnoxious. I’m fairly sure I failed in that regard.
Sensing my interest they provided directions to their rig parked at the edge of town, so on my way home I stopped by to snap some photos:
I sincerely hope the researchers gained useful information for future hurricane survivors. Specifically, how do we avoid loss of electricity? Now that would be a worthy project.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 