Tag: Doright Manor

Underneath it All

We’re having some air conditioning issues here at Doright Manor. I might write about them if any sanity remains after the technicians get through fixing the problem. Right now I’m too hot, sweaty, and annoyed to type more than a few sentences.

Yesterday when the repairman was here he took the thermostat off the wall, and I realized that at one time, Doright Manor had some really busy wallpaper.

I’m not a fan of wallpaper anyway, and this pattern made me shudder. Thank goodness they stripped the walls and painted them a nice boring white before we first looked at the house. Sure saved me a lot of unpleasant work.

Okay, that’s enough for now. Perspiration is blurring my sight.

Peace, people!

You Know You’ve Matured When…

Sixty-two is a comfortable age. Most days I feel every year of it, but occasionally I believe I could still dance ’til all hours with no morning after consequences. Still other days I might as well be crocheting blankets in an assisted living facility. Such is life at 62.

Now maturity is a different matter altogether. Even though I’m nearing the 63 mark, I don’t often act or feel mature. I still enjoy roller coasters and haunted houses. I tell juvenile jokes and delight in Studly Doright’s goofy charm.

Yesterday, though, I realized that I might have turned a corner in the maturity game.

We had an issue with our satellite feed and had to call a service guy out to fix it. In retrospect, this man was extremely good looking: Tall with broad shoulders, high cheekbones, long dark hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, chiseled features. Kind of the whole physical package.

(Similar to the guy below, but fully clothed.)

But what did I notice during his visit? That he tracked in dirt with his size 12 boots. I was too busy cleaning up behind him to notice how hot he was until after he’d left. What the heck happened to me?

After the guy was gone I told Studly Doright how miffed I was that the service man had left dirt on my carpets. He gave me a hug and said, “That’s my girl.” I’m not sure how to take that.

Peace, people.

Super Power

Not too many days ago I published a piece titled, “Manipulating Space” in which I explored the very slight possibility that I might have been endowed with the super power of making myself, and my vehicle, smaller for the purpose of avoiding an accident.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/07/30/manipulating-space/

Now no one, including me, took that possibility seriously, but yesterday I had another episode that could’ve been attributed to spatial manipulation, but more likely was the result of my excellent driving skills. I can’t read that last part aloud without Studly Doright convulsing in fits of laughter. He’d sooner believe I had a super power.

Here’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. On the spur of the moment I’d decided to go to a movie in Tallahassee. Studly was out of town, and my evening stretched before me like an endless sea. It was either see a movie or watch television all evening. The movie, Blinded by the Light won.

I had about half an hour to get to the theatre, more if you figure in the twenty minutes of trailers before the film, but I needed to buy my ticket and a snack, so there was no time to waste. I grabbed a wrap and my umbrella and began the drive into town.

Traffic was pretty heavy on the road between Quincy and Midway. I found myself following a pickup truck towing a trailer loaded with a junk car. Just before we reached Midway, the windshield of the junk car blew out onto the road right in front of me.

Did I do the whole space manipulation thing? Nope, I just deftly maneuvered my car around all the debris and emerged unscathed. I’ll save my super powers for real emergencies.

Peace, people.

True Story, or as Close as I Can Get

When we tell a true story, especially one in which tempers flared, the tendency is always to make oneself the good guy in the retelling. I’m going to do my best to relate the story of an interaction I had yesterday in a Publix grocery store as rationally and objectively as I can. Wish me luck.

I’d had a beautifully relaxing facial on Thursday morning, and was driving home to Doright Manor when I remembered that we needed a few items from the grocery store. Since I was just a mile or so from a Publix store I changed my route slightly and headed there.

First I went to the beauty aisle to pick up some shampoo for Studly Doright. He’s the most manly of men, yet he likes what I call, “Froo Froo” scented shampoos. Lots of florals or fruit essences. Sometimes I sneak in a more neutral scented shampoo, but I always end up having to use it because he won’t.

Then I shopped the produce section, searching for apples, oranges, strawberries, bananas and pineapple to satisfy our juicing habit. Studly really enjoys making juice every evening, and I try to keep fresh fruits on hand to encourage this new habit. Better fruit scented juice than fruit scented hair, I always say.

Finally I went to pick out a steak or two for him. I seldom eat meat anymore, but Studly does. I pulled my cart up parallel to the meat case, leaving a couple of feet between the cart and the case so others could peruse the section, as well.

I picked up one package of meat, placed it in a plastic bag inside my cart and turned to get another one. At the same time this big bruiser of a woman pulled her cart between mine and the case, moving me out of the way. I politely waited, thinking she’d be through soon, but she pulled out her phone and made a non-food related call.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you going to be awhile?”

“As long as it takes, lady.”

“Do you think perhaps I could have some room to get to the steaks?”

“When I’m done,” she said.

Okay, here I was wearing my peace sign t-shirt, feeling my blood pressure spike. This woman was almost my height, maybe an inch less than my 5’8″, but outweighed me by a good 50 lbs.

I indicated my cart, and said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I parked my cart to allow others to shop as well. Not for you to block me out.”

“Tough!”

“Listen, lady, I’m going to look at the steaks whether you move or not.” I proceeded then to put my hip into her cart and push. Whew. Not smart, but damn. She had my dander up.

That’s when she threatened to knock the shit out of me. Her exact words.

Now, I should explain here that I did take a step back, but at the same time I said, “Bring it, bitch.”

My brain was screaming at me to shut up. There’s no way I wanted to fight, and I have no idea what I’d have done if she had taken a swing at me. Thankfully I didn’t have to find out. She turned her back, allowed me to find my steaks, and then I went to the checkout counter.

I’m sure she’s telling somebody about the mean hippie chick who threatened her at the Publix today. I still can’t believe I let her get to me like that. The steaks would’ve been there if I’d walked away for five minutes and come back to shop at my leisure. I’m so not proud of myself.

To top it off, I ruined the good vibes I had going from my facial. Damn.

Peace!!!! People.

Sunday, Lazy Sunday

Studly Doright played in a two-day golf tournament this past weekend, so I was pretty much on my own both Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t do much other than running errands and doing laundry.

On Sunday I took myself to lunch at my favorite little vegan spot, the Sweet Pea Cafe, where I enjoyed French toast with slices of bananas and strawberries, home fries, and grits. Normally I don’t care for grits, but these were primo.

Someone in the cafe was enjoying a mimosa, so after I finished my meal I decided to stay and sip on one while reading a book. Mmmm. So good. I took my time with the drink then drove home to Doright Manor where I promptly planted my butt on the sofa and proceeded to nap for the rest of the afternoon. I’m blaming the mimosa. I’m also thanking it.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #262

Today I’m heading home to Doright Manor after an extended weekend in Hereford, Texas. As I write this I’m at gate A14 in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport, and Studly Doright is on his motorcycle on a backroad somewhere in the middle of nowhere also heading towards Doright Manor.

We were in Texas for a Noyes family reunion, and we had quite a good time visiting with family members from near and far. I might share more photos from the event at a later date, but for now I wanted to post this one because it features two of my favorite nephews, who I seldom get to see, and me.

Let’s call this one, “Happy!”

She Said She Shed

I was investigating an estate sale in mid-town Tallahassee, on Friday morning, and while I didn’t purchase anything, I fell in love with this backyard potting shed. As soon as Studly Doright returned home I showed him this photo and told him I thought I needed a she shed of my own.

“But you don’t garden!” he said.

“Well, I might if I had a nifty she shed,” I replied. “Or maybe I’d use it as my writing nook. Who knows, maybe the next great American novel could be written in such a shed.”

“Oh, you’re planning on letting someone else use it then,” he said.

I’d have hit him with my gardening shears if I’d had any.

But, can we agree it’s a lovely she shed?

Peace, people!

Studly and Siri

Last night I was on my third glass of wine when Studly Doright began planning his motorcycle trip from Doright Manor to his mom’s house in Hereford, Texas. I kept hearing him mumble into his phone.

“Siri, how far is it from Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama? No, not Dowland, Dothan.

“How far from Dothan to Montgomery, Alabama?”

Some unintelligible mumbling.

This went on for at least twenty minutes. One town after another, one misunderstanding after another. Twice I thought he was talking to me. A couple of times I questioned his judgement.

“Little Rock, Arkansas? That’s way out of your way!” I said.

“Shhhh!” he shushed. “Siri and I have a thing going on.”

She helped him plot his route from Havana, Florida, to Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama, to Montgomery, Alabama to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to Columbus, Mississippi, to Indianola, Mississippi, to Hot Springs, Arkansas, to McAlester, Oklahoma, to Wellington, Texas, to his final destination of Hereford, Texas.

Whew! My route is much easier: Drive to the Tallahassee airport, board a flight to Dallas, Texas, at 7:45, change planes and arrive in Amarillo by 1:44. Siri never got involved.

He’s taking the road less traveled; I’m taking the friendly skies. Hopefully our paths will converge in the Texas panhandle. If not, Siri’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Peace, people!

Snake It Off

Since my close encounter with a cottonmouth snake (below) I’ve been hyper aware of anything serpent related.

News stories about invasive snake species in south Florida interest me:

https://www.floridatoday.com/story/news/local/environment/2019/04/13/florida-invasive-animal-species-wrecking-native-ecosystems-non-native/3456294002/

And I look for opportunities to learn more about snakes just in case there’s a next time.

This past weekend the Tallahassee Museum held an informative session for folks like me. Well, mainly for folks 12 and younger, but I didn’t let that stop me.

I listened earnestly and watched carefully. The most important thing I learned was to let snakes be. Leave them alone. Give them space. Don’t crowd them. If it’s a snake like my cottonmouth (aka water moccasin), don’t get between it and a body of water. Even if you’re positive the snake isn’t venomous, don’t pick it up. Non-venomous snakes can have nasty bites that might take months to heal.

If you’re bitten by a snake, stay calm. Try to snap a photo of it for identification purposes and then get to an emergency room. Don’t apply a tourniquet! That just exacerbates the injury.

Most of this wasn’t new information to me, but it never hurts to have a reminder. And, oh, the snakes were cool.

Look at these Banded Water Snakes

Note that the one on the right is digesting a big meal.

That’s an Eastern Indigo Snake above. These guys are endangered and non-venomous. I’m fairly certain that this is the type of snake we have living in our front garden area. Sure glad I saved him from the guys repairing our driveway!

Watch this guy, an Eastern Diamondback, who seemed as interested in us as we were in him.

This pretty guy below is a Gray Rat Snake. These are non-venomous and fairly common. They blend in perfectly with the bark of oak trees, so there’s no telling how many I pass right by every day.

So, I’m still no snake expert, but I did know the answer to one of the instructor’s questions when none of the other kids, I mean, participants did. She said that some snakes move in a concertina style and asked if anyone knew what a concertina was.

I played it cool,

But soon it was obvious no one else knew the answer, so it fell to me.

I didn’t get a gold star or anything, but that’s okay. Just knowing I was right was reward enough.

Peace, people!

Not His Type

Yesterday my cat, Scout, and I watched a hawk fly all around our backyard here at Doright Manor, lighting briefly on a lamppost before flying dramatically to the ground. He poked around in the grass for a minute or two before doing this:

I told Scout it looked like he was initiating a mating ritual. Every now and again he’d stop his dance and look directly at me, as if to say, “Hey, good looking….”

Scout yawned and said, “I’m almost certain that hawks perform an elaborate aerial mating ritual in place of a dance. And, honestly, you’re not his type.”

Cheeky cat.

Peace, people!