Tag: florida

Won’t You Be My Neighbor?

The home adjacent to Doright Manor in the beautiful Lake Yvette neighborhood about eight miles west of Tallahassee is on the market. It’s a lovely place with real southern charm, so I thought I’d give it a little publicity. 

  
Sandy, the owner, takes excellent care of this home, meticulously maintaining its spacious yard. I always gave her a hard time about making me look lazy. Granted, that’s not that difficult.

   
I love the little gazebo feature on the west side of the property. It makes me want to put on a floral chiffon dress and white gloves for afternoon tea.

 
I didn’t want to trespass, so I didn’t venture into the backyard, but the home sits just off a finger of Lake Yvette.

  
Pictured above are some of the vibrant flowers that adorn this property. 

Sandy really thought she’d retire out here, but circumstances beyond her control necessitated a move into Tallahassee. It’s a terrific place for a retired couple.

Studly Doright and I are great neighbors. We don’t throw wild parties, and we don’t have any barking dogs. Plus, we’re fairly amusing, and we have a dock. 

  
Come take a look!

Peace, people.

Trapped!

I am not a stay at home anything, and when I’m forced to remain at home I begin to feel claustrophobic regardless of the size of my current abode.

Today I am confined to Doright Manor as I wait for various contractors to show up to perform their respective duties. Our covered porch project has been clipping along at a nice pace with little assistance from me until this beautiful fall day. I should be out walking, shopping, dining, etc., and here I sit watching Dr. Oz in hopes that at least someone will show up today to justify my confinement.

There was a knock on my door an hour ago. I’d fallen asleep in front of the television and it took me a couple of minutes to get my bearings and to wipe the drool from my cheek. Expecting the electrician I motioned the man through my front door where he smiled and asked if I’d accepted Jesus as my personal savior. 

I nodded and in turn asked him if he’d accepted electricity as a profession. He shook his head no and I pretty much pushed him out the door. Back to waiting.

 

Maybe I should look for obvious clues.
 
Peace, people!

On a Mission

Tallahassee has an untrumpeted treasure in an unlikely spot on Tennessee street just across from Panera Bread. For the past year I’ve driven past Mission San Luis thinking that one day I’d visit. On Tuesday I did just that. All I have to say now is what took me so long?

From the brochure: “Mission San Luis functioned as the capital of the western missions in La Florida  from 1656 to 1704. Populated by more than 1500 residents, including one of the most important Apalachee chiefs and the Spanish deputy governor, San Luis was one of early Florida’s larger colonial outposts.”

The members of the Apalachee tribe actually invited the Spanish Friars to build a mission in their midst, thinking it would increase their status. 

The Friars gained a lush environment where crops could be grown and shipped to the larger outpost of St. Augustine. 

When various threats emerged to the Spanish holdings, a fort was built on the site; although, it never housed enough soldiers to properly protect the Spaniards or the Apalachee from other Europeans–namely the French and then the English. 

Mission San Luis is an ongoing archaeological site and includes remnants of the Apalachee council house along with examples of the stockade and church.

If you’re ever in the Tallahassee area, I recommend you stop for a visit. Let me know you’re in town and we’ll tour it together!

On the wall inside the chapel, this guide allowed non-readers to follow the pitch of the music.

  
Inside the stockade and mess hall.
  
One of the knowledgeable docents on site.
  
        
    
   

Peace, people!

Delayed Gratification

In college I took enough psychology classes to make me annoying (ok, more annoying) to my friends and family. I loved reading about experiments and studies into animal and human behavior.

One that has stuck in my mind is an experiment that I believe B.F. Skinner, known as the father of operant conditioning, constructed. Now I tried to google the experiment, but never hit on the exact study I was looking for, so maybe I made it up. Please, if you know of the study correct my errors.

As I recall, in the study some rats were given a treat every time they pressed a lever, while other rats never received a treat, and still others received treats at random. Understandably, the rats receiving no rewards soon gave up pressing the lever, and the rats who always received a treat became complacent. The rats that received treats only now and again, though, were the most eager to press the lever. 

Hmmm. I get this dynamic now; whereas, in college I did not. Let me illustrate:

Once, many years ago, I arrived home from a business trip to find Studly Doright standing outside our home in Melbourne, Florida, with our motorcycles loaded for a trip. He told me to get ready for a weekend ride and to grab anything I might need for a weekend of fun. He refused to tell me where we were headed, just that I might need my swimsuit.

Unbeknownst to me he’d booked us the attic room at the Seven Sisters Inn (A Historical Bed and Breakfast) in Ocala, Florida. It was wonderful and romantic, and ever since that time I’ve fantasized about another such surprise. Had he never treated me to that trip I’d never even entertain the thought, but he did and now, no matter how often I push the button I receive no reward. Well, at least not THAT reward.

Sigh. Better to be the rat that never got the treat? You decide.

 

Seven Sisters Inn
 
Peace, people!

Congressional Correspondence

I try to keep my blog free of political topics; although, occasionally I get a bee in my bonnet and have to let the darned thing out before it stings my delicate pate. And truly, this isn’t a political post as much as it is an observational one.

The age of electronic communication is still amazing. I remember purchasing air mail stamps so that correspondence might reach its intended destination in a couple of days rather than a week. 

When I email my congressional representatives these days I receive an almost immediate response. Granted, it’s a form letter, but at least I know that someone in his/her office noted that a constituent felt strongly enough about an issue to make public their stand.

I seriously doubt that Senator Rubio will heed my plea, whatever it might have been. I haven’t the money or the political pull to sway his thinking. That’s the cynic in me. However, the eternally optimistic side of my brain thinks, maybe, just maybe, he’ll read my words and a lightbulb will appear over his head, or he’ll be moved to tears by my story and say, 

“Yes! I don’t need the support of powerful corporations and their money anymore! I don’t need to be beholden to the far right. I’m going to seriously consider the words of Nana Noyz!”

And pigs shall fly.

 
Peace, people!

Pulling Weeds

in florida, weeds
exceed all expectations
pulling them becomes
counter productive
for every one i extract
two more seem to emerge
a green hydra battling
for survival when all
i want is a bouquet.
oh hercules where are
you these days?

  
 Peace, people!

Scraping Mold

I’ve got an important job to do. It involves mold and a scrub brush. I cannot believe I’ve agreed to take on this task. 

Too Much

Studly Doright and I are doing some home improvement projects this spring. His man-cave is approaching completion and we’ve found someone to help turn the area leading up to our front door into a mini courtyard. After that we’ll tackle our back porch which is lovely but almost unusable during the rainy season due to drainage issues.

In preparation for the courtyard project I’ve been browsing Pinterest and wandering around two of the local nurseries looking at paving stones, outdoor seating groups, and large pots and planters. My goal is to make the area pretty and low maintenance.

Even though I’m no gardener I enjoy trips to the nurseries. There’s such an abundance of colors, textures, and scents. And ornamental junk. Lots of ornamental junk.

  
Now, I have nothing against ornamental junk. I can see me owning a metal rooster or an ornate concrete birdbath. The problem is that I’m not sure if I’d know when to stop. 

  
Could I draw the line at one rooster or would I need a dozen metal hens and a few chicks to add to the display? If I buy the concrete birdbath do I then follow up with a concrete bench, a concrete fairy, a pair of concrete children reading a concrete book, and an array of concrete stepping stones?

  
We’ve all seen those yards that have so many little animals or whirlybirds or garden gnomes that one cannot even see the lawn or the front door. Who is to say that one lone rooster won’t lead to an entire flock?

Studly assures me he won’t let it come to that. Oh, look! A metal dolphin!

Peace, people!

Prepositional Journey

Drove to the beach

Picnicked on the pier

Waded in the waves

Sipped at a beer

Napped beneath the sun

Strolled upon the sand

Searched for seashells

Listened to a band

Gathered up the towels

Rinsed off my toes

Drove into town

Rubbed lotion on my nose.

World’s Most Pitiful Garage Sale

Our little neighborhood of Lake Yvette planned a community garage sale for this fine Saturday morning. Eagerly I joined the ranks of those willing to participate. Gamely I priced some of the treasures (junk) that we moved from Illinois to Florida a little over a year ago. 

I’d forgotten that the roofers were coming this morning. They were supposed to have come on Thursday, but we had rain so they rescheduled. Now there are nail guns hammering to the mind-numbing tune of an air compressor, not to mention a truck partially blocking my driveway.

Here I sit, surrounded by treasures (junk). People stop and look for a few minutes before saying something like, “How do you stand this racket?” 

I answer, “Huh?”

Then they leave. 

I’ve taken in $3. My portion of the ad was $10. My signs cost $7. Only $14 until I break even.

Peace, people!

Oh, Studly Doright is on the golf course, I get 100% of the profits. How much is 100% of nothing?