Keeping Secrets

I have a big mouth. Not literally, though. As a kid I had to visit the dentist frequently so he could find creative ways to make room for all of my teeth. He told my folks my mouth was too small, to which they replied, “Hahaha!!” for days. Every time the story was retold to family and friends they laughed like it was the funniest story ever told.

We didn’t have oodles of money back then, and no dental insurance, so braces were out of the question. Our dentist, Dr. Craig, bless his heart, worked to strategically pull several of my permanent teeth so that my teeth weren’t too crooked. He was almost successful, but later in life I had some work done to correct what I thought of as my vampire teeth. Dr. Craig would have approved, I think.

Mine weren’t quite this bad, but you get the picture:

Back to my big mouth, which by now you should know is figurative rather than literal. I positively can not keep a secret. Not a fun one anyway. I can keep your “I can’t stand my boss and have been interviewing for new jobs” secret. I can keep your, “I’ve won the lottery and am not telling anyone other than you until I’ve seen an attorney” secret. But I cannot keep the “We’re having a surprise party for someone and you absolutely can’t leak the news!”

I have one of those fun secrets right now, and if the person the secret is for hasn’t totally figured it out yet it is a miracle. I don’t give hints–it’s just that I’ll say things like, “When we see A_____ in a few days….” and then I panic because I remember he doesn’t know A____ is coming, so I have to say, “I keep forgetting A_____ isn’t going to be there.” Then I act all upset so he’ll think I’m losing my mind a little. Heh. I’m not sure it’s an act anymore.

I must hold myself together through next Wednesday when all will be revealed. It’s too bad I can’t see a dentist to help me through this problem with my mouth.

Peace, people.

Acclimated

Studly Doright and I have been in the Tallahassee area for four years now, having moved from central Illinois where we resided for eight years. This morning I realized I’d finally acclimated to the weather here when upon hearing that the high in our area would be in the mid-60’s today, I said to myself, “Better wear a sweater!”

I’m not complaining. I’ll wear that sweater all winter thanking my lucky stars I don’t need a heavy jacket and snow boots.

Truly everything is relative. We lived in North Dakota for four years where an ambient temperature of 34° on a winter day had folks digging out their bikinis and sunscreen.

Even in the mid-west the definition of cold is a matter of season. Forty degrees in November feels cool, while the same temperature in February is positively balmy.

The most difficult part for me when the weather turns cool is having to put away my flip flops. Although, I have been known to pull this stunt:

But only to take out the garbage. If I go downtown, I’ll put my pants on….

No matter where you are, I hope you have a great day. Pants optional.

Peace, people.

Born to be Mild

I came within a heartbeat of purchasing this box of Partridge Family paper dolls at a garage sale this morning. Thankfully I came to my senses and walked away with my dollar still firmly ensconced in my pocketbook.

There was a time I’d have bought anything with a picture of David Cassidy (aka Keith Partridge) on the box, but maybe I’ve finally grown out of my fan girl years. I texted the photo to an old friend who’d shared my fascination with David and other male teen celebrities—namely John and Barry Cowsill.

Via text we had a couple of giggles, and she asked if we could have been considered groupies. I thought about that term and its negative connotations for a moment and then responded that if so, we’d been lousy groupies, not given to indulging in drugs or orgies. We were born to be mild.

Here’s a bit of The Partridge Family’s I Think I Love You. You’re welcome.

https://youtu.be/bb4FMn-IWEY

Shots from Chicago and a Few Hundred Bras

My whirlwind trip to see my daughter and middle granddaughter last weekend in Chicago was wonderfully exhausting. We did a bit of shopping and a lot of dining in addition to taking in a production of Les Misérables at the Cadillac Palace theatre in downtown Chicago.

I didn’t take many photos, but thought I’d share a few with you all.

The pizza was every bit as good as I’d hoped it would be. We ate at my son-in-law’s favorite pizza place, Giordano’s, and since he wasn’t there we had to send him “take that!” photos of our meal.

We used Uber to get from our hotel out by Midway to the theatre downtown. Chicago is so beautiful.

I wanted to get a picture of the theatre’s exterior, but it was a really cold afternoon, and I’m a wimp, so the inside is all you’re getting!

That’s my lovely daughter, Ashley, on the right and granddaughter, McKayla beside me.

My awful attempt at a selfie, above. Thank goodness McKayla’s pretty face balances out my smirk.

The production of Les Misérables was wonderful. I sobbed at the end. Partly because my butt was tired and I hadn’t slept at all the night before, but mostly because I was so moved by the performance.

Below is a totally irrelevant photo of bras decorating a bridge between Blountstown, Florida, and Bristol, Florida. I didn’t stop to count these pieces of lingerie, but they went on and on and on, spanning the length of a very long bridge. Impressive show of support….

The Queen of Worry

Throw a sash around my neck,

I’ll parade across the stage

As the crowd cheers frantically

I’ll smile brilliantly and wave

My speech will thank the people

Who’ve made me who I am today

All the ones within my care

Who’ve caused my hair to gray

I know I’m not the fun one

Keeping order is my chore

The Queen of Worry ‘til my death

And then I’ll worry no more

Infield Fly

I understand the infield fly rule, though I doubt my knowledge will ever come into play at a cocktail hour or any other

Social event. Hey, I’d say, Did you know that if there are fewer than two outs, and runners on first and second, or first,

Second, and third, and a fly ball is hit that can easily be fielded by any member of the infield, the batter is out even

If the ball is not caught? What kind of nonsense is that? My partner in conversation will ask. Exactly, I’ll say!

Furthermore, runners advance at their own risk! With age I’ve come to realize that the rule protects the team on offense,

Even though it results in one out. What genius devised the infield fly rule? Surely he deserves a statue or a drink in his honor.

Try as I might I cannot figure a way to make this rule pertinent to my life, as I swing and miss one more time.

Chicago, Here I Come!

I’m flying to Chicago out of Panama City Beach on Friday afternoon. Once in the Windy City I’ll meet up with my daughter and our middle granddaughter for a weekend of shopping, dining, and Les Misérables-ing.

In preparation for the trip I’ve been listening to the Les Misérables soundtrack, because one never knows when they’ll need someone to fill in for a cast member. I probably don’t look much like Jean Valjean, but I could sing his part in a pinch. And Cosette’s role? I’m ready to don her dress and belt out her lyrics. Just in case.

My tastebuds are already anticipating a Chicago-style pizza, as I recall the ghosts of pizzas past. There’s simply nothing better than a deep dish pepperoni. Mmmmm. Can you smell it? I can. Now all I have to do is convince my daughter and her daughter that we need to head downtown for dinner Friday night!

Of course, Friday will be my daughter’s thirty-somethingth birthday. I’ll let her choose dinner on Friday, but Saturday is pizza for sure. Am I excited? Duh!!! And the best part? Getting to see my family! I’m packed and ready. Let the party begin.

Marriage

Studly Doright and I were watching some network entertainment show last night. The hosts were talking about a celebrity couple whose marriage was in its third year. Apparently, the couple planned to share their secrets to a long and happy marriage.

“Three years!” I snorted. “If they’re still together in 38 years, maybe I’ll listen to what they have to say.”

“You’ll be dead by then,” said Studly.

Well, there is that nagging bit of reality. Damn his wicked insight.

Peace, and good marriages, people!

Kayaking

Studly Doright and I took a quick trip to Amelia Island for the weekend. I didn’t have much time to write a regular post, but here we are at the midway point of a kayaking trip on the island.

We had a great time exploring Egan’s Estuary with our guide, Amber, from Amelia Island Kayak Excursions. If you ever find yourself in the area, we highly recommend this kayaking tour company. I’d give it two thumbs up, but I’m having difficulty raising my thumbs right now.

Peace, people!

Meetup

Since moving to the Tallahassee area over four years ago, I haven’t connected to many other women. Most days I’m fine enjoying my own company, but sometimes I get lonely.

My blogging friend, The Happy Quitter at https://nonsmokingladybug.wordpress.com/ inspired me to connect with others as she had through the Meetup app, so on Thursday evening I did just that and met members of the Tallahassee Women’s Social Meetup at the Wine Loft.

I’m not going to lie, I was a nervous ninny before connecting with these women I’d never met before, but Studly Doright sent me off with a kiss and an admonition against talking too loudly–something I do when I’m nervous. I’m not sure I was successful in keeping my decibels down, but I don’t recall anyone recoiling in disgust, or covering both ears, so maybe I was within reasonable levels.

The group of women was friendly and diverse. I enjoyed sipping wine and visiting for a couple of hours, and I’m looking forward to the next time I’m able to join them. Maybe my nerves will have calmed and I can listen more than I talk.

I’ll write more later, but for now I must prepare for an adventure. Sorry to be so cryptic, but I’m not even sure what it entails.

Peace, people!