If I Couldn’t Go Home

Where would I go if I couldn’t go home? Would I find the means to travel the world, a vagabond with no tether?

Might I show up in postcards mailed from exotic destinations, wish you here, but secretly glad you stayed behind?

I’m afraid I’d live in a marginal world, on the edge of respectability, begging scraps from passing cars.

If I couldn’t go home, I would never build a new one. I lack the proper tools, but perhaps I’d find a better one.

His Songs

he plays a little club on tuesday nights, a seedy little place off main

the voice, still strong after all this time; yet he never did sell his name.

his songs, sad and sweet, sift through my soul transcending time and tomb

my lonely heart answers the way it knows best; i feel i must call home.

invoking the loss of my family, of my false securities

his songs call out my every conceit and bring me to my knees.

home will you take me back? i’m so damned tired of this road

i thought, oh i thought i could make it, until i heard his songs.

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.


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!

All Hands on Deck

Studly Doright and I bought our home in Havana, Florida, more than a year ago. We love this house and its little neighborhood of Lake Yvette. Recently, Studly added a nice garage/shop where he stores our motorcycles and does repair work as needed. He’s very pleased with the finished product, and I’m pleased when Studly is pleased.

The only part of the home we weren’t crazy about was the back porch. At first look, it was perfect, with nice brickwork and ample space for a table, grill, and a couple of lounge chairs. But anytime it rains, and it rains often in north Florida, all of the rainwater pools at one end of the deck, rendering it unusable. Obviously, after the home was built it settled counter to the drain. 

So, while we were in a building/remodeling frame of mind we decided to have the deck converted into a covered/screened porch. The contractor has begun the job, and like all such jobs it’s a bit messy. And noisy. 

The cats stay hidden most of the day, emerging only for their beloved Temptations treats. They have no idea yet just how wonderful the new screened in porch will be for two confirmed lifelong house cats. 

Studly and I are making bets as to how long it takes our youngest cat, Patches, to make her first steps into the wild new world. In her whole three years of life she’s been out of the house only to go to the vet and of course during our car ride from Illinois to Florida.

Our elder cat, Scout, has occasionally escaped when the front door has been left open a fraction too long. But then she would sit quivering on the front lawn until we could herd her back into the house. Neither cat will ever receive a medal for bravery.

Here are photos of our work in progress:

 We’re hoping to have the deck finished in a couple of weeks, then we can find out how our cats react. It is all about the cats, after all.

Peace, people!