Around Amelia Island

Amelia Island is a beautiful place to run away to and a difficult place to leave. Studly Doright and I kayaked,

Explored the community of Fernandina Beach on the island,

Took in some of the Jazz Festival

Walked on the beach

And had a good time.

It’ll be tough getting back to the real world.

Peace, 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!

Wait for It…

I’ve done a great deal of waiting the past few weeks. I’ve waited for hurricanes to choose a path, for a generator to arrive, for someone to come measure one of our spare bedrooms for carpet after our water heater went kaput and leaked water all over said bedroom.

I’ve waited for a new hot water heater to be installed, and for the trash collection crew to come pick up the soggy carpeting and old water heater and the box the new one came in. I’m still waiting on the trash guys–they’d promised that all of the unsightly detritus would be picked up no later than last Saturday. We’re now officially closer to next Saturday than to last Saturday.

Yesterday I waited in vain for the guy we hired to paint the spare bedroom before the new carpet arrives. He was supposed to come first thing this morning, but he still hadn’t arrived by 4:30 pm, so I’m still waiting.

I can check some of the things off my list, though:

  • Generator arrived today 10/9/17. It was supposed to have been here no later than 9/24/17.
  • The carpet measurer came on time and gave me an estimate that Studly can live with.
  • The new water heater is installed and working like a charm, thanks to Studly Doright.

That just leaves the painter and the trash pick up and then maybe we’ll be back to normal. Oh, wait, then I’ll be at the mercy of the carpet layers.

This post might sound like one long complaint. Honestly, it’s just a recitation. I don’t mind waiting too much, and when I think of all those folks in coastal Texas, Puerto Rico, south Florida, and now California, having to wait on vital survival type services I know just how fortunate I am. I have electricity and hot water, plenty of food, and a place to rest my head. No waiting necessary.

What are you waiting on?

Peace, people!

The Perfect Burger

Our current political scene is so depressing that all I want to do is eat. If I’m not careful I’ll regain the 20 or so pounds I’ve lost in these last ten months. Studly Doright suggested that I write instead of eating. If I can’t enjoy a burger, I’ll contemplate the perfect one.

Studly grills a good burger on occasion. When he buys good ground sirloin and doesn’t cook it until it resembles dried shoe leather his burgers are among the best. He melts cheese on top, then we add lettuce, fresh tomato, a sweet Vidalia onion, mustard or mayonnaise, and our choice of pickle on top of a grilled buttered bun. I add a splash of ketchup to mine and it’s oh so good.

When we eat hamburgers at a restaurant we’re fairly adventurous. I’ll often order one with guacamole and jalapeƱos. Of course I suffer mightily for that indulgence, but oh my goodness it’s so good.

Studly’s favorite is a burger dubbed “The Lip Smacker” at our local Well’s Brothers eatery. The Lip Smacker features half a pound of meat grilled to perfection and topped with cheese, bacon, peanut butter, and strawberry jam.

Would you eat The Lip Smacker? I won’t, but then Studly won’t even contemplate my guacamole and jalapeƱo burger. What’s your favorite burger? Are you a plain Jane kind of burger lover, or do you go for the exotic?

Battle of the Sexes

Every now and then it’s good to remember that even though women are still fighting battles to control our own bodies we have come a very long way on the road to equality. The film Battle of the Sexes starring Emma Stone and Steve Carell as tennis stars, Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs, provides viewers with some pointed reminders of just how far we’ve progressed, and who we should thank for that progress.

I remember watching the hype leading up to the big match between King and Riggs, as well as sitting glued to the tv to view their epic match from start to finish. I was 16 when Riggs and King faced off on the court. My family made a big deal of the match and my dad said from the beginning he thought Billie Jean would beat Bobby Riggs. Is it any wonder why Daddy was my hero?

The movie recreates the vibe of the 70’s perfectly: The hair, the clothing, the music, the misogyny. Carell and Stone are wonderful in their roles. I give this film 10 thumbs up. Yes. Ten. I’m not much of a movie reviewer, but I know what I like.

Peace, people!

Shipping Label Humor

Today, October 5, 2017, is my 61st birthday. Yay me! According to my youngest grandchild who is five, I am an old lady. Funny, I don’t feel old. In fact, I feel fairly wonderful.

Yesterday I received a beautiful basket of gourmet delicacies from my son and daughter-in-law. I mean this is the mother of all baskets:

Apples, pears, cheeses and crackers, cookies, and a bottle of wine. It’s gorgeous and I’m going to try to be a good girl and share with Studly Doright.

One of the best things about the basket, though, was the label on the box it arrived in. I laughed for ten minutes:

“Do not deliver to an intoxicated person,” it says. I told the FedEx lady it was a darned good thing she’d come before 5 p.m.

Happy birthday to me!

Fun Times at Doright Manor

Thanks to a corroded hot water heater this is what my house looks like at the moment. Enjoy.

We pulled out the carpet and padding and rented a couple of fans to dry out the walls.

But we had to move all of the furniture out first.

The marble tops weigh a ton and have to be moved separately. They’re somewhere in my dining room at present.

Ah! Home sweet home.

I’m going to the carpet store today to find new floor coverings for the bedroom, and we’ve got a painter coming sometime this week. In the meantime we’re dodging bedroom furniture in almost every room of the house.

I insisted on pizza at Momo’s in Tallahassee for dinner last night.

A Resourceful Man

Studly Doright is a resourceful man. In fact, if I hadn’t been inspired to call him Studly Doright I’d have dubbed him “Macgyver” or “Mr. Fixit.”

There were many lean years during which his ingenuity and ability to solve problems of a mechanical nature kept us out of the proverbial poorhouse.

Nowadays we don’t have to rely on Studly’s resourcefulness to keep life flowing smoothly. If something breaks and needs fixing we can call a repairman. If that something cannot be fixed we can replace it. Being poor was exhausting. Those who’ve never been there can’t even fathom the energy it takes just to keep afloat.

However, just because we can afford to hire a repairman doesn’t necessarily mean we will. Yesterday I posted about a water leak that manifested itself as soggy carpet and moldy baseboards in one of our guest bedrooms at Doright Manor. Knowing there was a leak was easy. Finding the source of the leak was a bit trickier, but we finally traced it to the water heater in our garage. We were relieved. A water heater is easy to replace.

When Studly was able to get away from work yesterday afternoon he turned off the water to the house, shut off the electricity to the water heater, and began the process of draining it. The folks who’d built our home had installed a massive 80 gallon water heater, so while we waited for it to drain Studly drove into Tallahassee to purchase a new one.

He’d done his research and learned all about high efficiency water heaters. The only thing he hadn’t foreseen was that the existing water heater was wider than the door of the closet in which it had been installed.

So, here we were on a Friday night with no hot water and no energy remaining to take apart the framing of the door. Did Studly give up? No way.

Of course it’s a temporary fix, but allowed for the taking of showers and a good night’s rest so he can tackle the door frame after golf today. I insisted on the golf–better he hit a ball than a wall.

Could Studly have called a repairman to tackle this whole job? Could he have saved himself a lot of aggravation and labor? Yes and yes. But that’s not how men like Studly get things done.

When it comes to replacing the carpeting and repainting the guest bedroom, though, I’m going to insist on a professional.

Peace, people.

Just for the Record

I was searching for something; although, I can no longer remember what that was. I’d looked in my closet, and I’d searched the master bedroom. I looked in the Texas bedroom (so called because I’ve got lots of kitschy Texas stuff displayed there). I searched the office with its multitude of drawers and cabinets.

Having failed to find whatever the heck it was I was searching for in any of the places mentioned above, I opened the door to the antique bedroom. It’s a rather small room and crowded with antique furnishings, so I don’t have much room to store things in there. Surely whatever the heck I’d been searching for wasn’t in there, but I should at least check before ruling it out.

As soon as I entered the room a horrible smell akin to that of a bundle of athletic socks that had been worn through eighteen consecutive sweaty workouts and then stuffed into a green duffel bag and stored in a musty locker greeted me.

I found the problem immediately. Just for the record the carpet in the antique bedroom is not supposed to look like this.

Mold shouldn’t be growing on the baseboard, and the carpet really shouldn’t make “squish, squish” sounds when one walks from point A to point B. I’m not a plumber, but I know a problem when I step in it.

Studly Doright arrived home soon after my discovery. With little fanfare I led him to the room where he immediately did what guys like Studly do:

After much cutting and cursing, grunting and grumbling, Studly determined absolutely nothing beyond the need to call a plumber.

Now there are two boxes of family keepsakes that had been stored on the floor in the closet of the antique bedroom drying on various surfaces in the kitchen.

Fortunately I don’t think anything important was ruined, but it was a near thing. So even though I never found whatever the hell it was I’d been searching for, my search did prevent a catastrophe. As my friend Hunny says, “I’m a lucky, lucky girl.”

Peace, people.

Hurricane Cat

We adopted our precious cat, Scout, after Hurricane Charley in 2004. We lived in Melbourne, Florida, at the time, and Scout along with her brother had been found wandering alone once the storm passed through our area. I wrote a story about her adoption, and it never fails to make me cry. That’s like laughing at one’s own joke, I suppose.

https://nananoyz5formewordpress.wordpress.com/2014/08/22/the-rescue-of-scout/

Scout is now around fourteen years old. She’s still playful and likes to play fetch. She sleeps more than she once did, but she’s still a sweet cat who loves to snuggle. Some day we’ll have to say goodbye to our Scout, but we hope we’ll be graced with her presence for many more years.

I found her snoozing on a fresh from the dryer towel one afternoon. That’s my girl.

Peace, people.