You know you’ve become an old married couple when you emerge from the shower in all of your naked glory to find your husband standing there eagerly only to have him ask for the computer password.
Tag: Studly Doright
A Little Felt Tree
Studly Doright and I were married in July of 1976. I was just shy of twenty, while he was only 18. Broke, stupid, and in love, we had no idea then of the hurdles we’d have to jump over on our way to 43 years of marriage and beyond.
As our first Christmas as a married couple approached we had to set some new guidelines. I was set on keeping up my family’s Christmas traditions while he was equally set on keeping his. We managed to compromise fairly well, but there was one thing I insisted on–a live tree at least six feet tall. Studly’s family had a smaller tree that stood on a short table, as I recall.
I got my way that year, and we soon had our beautiful tall tree standing in its brand new red and green tree strand awaiting decorations. There was just one problem–we had no ornaments. None. And that tree had eaten up most of our disposable income.
My mom came to the rescue. She gave us three kits of felt ornaments that I could stitch together and decorate. One set featured characters from the Wizard of Oz.
Another set included typical Christmas characters–an angel, a snowman, and a Santa.
The last set featured Christmas trees and wreaths. I’ve managed to lose the wreaths, but my Christmas trees have hung in there (pun intended) all these years.
Several days ago I was scavenging for book five in the Harry Potter series at our local Goodwill book store when I came across a little felt tree hanging from the store’s tree. It was exactly like the one I’d made all those years ago
I wondered if some young woman had lovingly stitched the pieces together, adding shiny sequins where indicated by the kit’s directions. Had she been as nervous about her future as I was about mine?
And I wondered why this poor felt tree came to be all by itself at the Goodwill store. Of course I bought it and brought it home. I introduced the ornament to its counterparts on my tree, and then I let our elf on the shelf comfort it.
Welcome home, little tree.
Peace, people.
A Festive State Mind
Hallelujah, I’m finally in a festive mood. The humbugs have been banished, and the grinch is gone. What, you might ask, has prompted my change in spirit? It wasn’t just one big thing that did the trick, but a series of small events.
1. My daughter called me several days ago with more than a hint of excitement in her voice. She lives in Illinois, and the long, cold winters there take a toll on her. So to hear her bubbling over with happiness made me happy.
2. All of my Christmas shopping is done and gifts are either en route or already under their respective recipients’ trees.
3. Studly Doright and I attended a company Christmas party at a Humphrey Bogart themed restaurant in DeFuniak Springs, FL. Since I’d just mentioned the film Casablanca in a recent post, I thought that dinner at a place called “Bogey’s” was more than a coincidence. Before we arrived at the restaurant Studly and I both thought it was golf themed. Boy, was he disappointed.
4. Our daughter sent photos and video of our youngest granddaughter performing in her school’s holiday concert. Isn’t she adorable? (The answer is “yes,” by the way.) Note the cute little guy next to her with his puffed out cheeks.
5. Our daughter, who played trombone all through middle and high school, is playing again–now in her kids’ high school pep band. Her family lives in a small town, and the pep band is correspondingly small, so when she realized a parent was playing in the pep band she asked the director if he could use another trombonist. He could, and that’s why she was so excited (refer to #1). She played her first gig on Monday night at a basketball game.
6. We’ve gone three days without finding cat pee where it shouldn’t be. Knock on wood.
7. This morning I’m meeting a friend for a holiday art show at LeMoyne Center for the Visual Arts in Tallahassee and lunch at somewhere still to be determined.
8. Tonight Studly and I will attend the last of his company’s Christmas parties at Giorgio’s in Tallahassee. No ugly sweaters this time–I’m not sure whether that makes me sort of sad or extraordinarily excited. Leaning towards the excited; although, that means I probably need to put some thought into my appearance. At least with an ugly sweater I could just wear jeans.
8. Finally, I found this on Facebook. https://youtu.be/tEjLS0OHWnQ
Peace, people
Snow What?
Last night I said to my husband, “Dang, I’m sleepy.”
“Really,” he replied. “And all these years I thought you were Grumpy.”
That’s life with Studly Doright.
Peace, people.
Desperate Times
“Desperate times breed desperate measures”–William Shakespeare
On most days I have lunch alone, either here at Doright Manor or at one of a handful of Tallahassee cafes. Now, before you feel sorry for me you need to know that I enjoy my solitary lunches. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy having lunch with Studly Doright or with a friend, but when I dine alone I pull my Kindle out of my purse and read. And there are few things I’d rather do than read.
One day last week I had a whole list of errands to run, most of them in Tallahassee. I planned the most efficient route and left home around 10 a.m. with the goal of having lunch at the best little vegan eatery in the world, Sweet Pea Cafe.
With my errands halfway done, I drove to Sweet Pea and ordered that day’s special, Tempeh Temptation. I found a table and reached into my purse for my Kindle. Hmmm. No Kindle. I searched every zippered compartment with no luck.
“That’s okay,” I said to myself. “Just read from the Kindle app on your phone.”
“You’re so brilliant!” I answered.
“I know.” I said.
Unfortunately my brilliant self had managed to leave my phone at home as well.
As I waited for the meal to arrive I wondered how I was supposed to eat without a book in hand. How does one do such a thing?
“You can do this,” I gently reminded myself. “Just be more mindful of your meal. Pay attention to every bite. People watch. Listen to the music playing. Enjoy the experience.”
“Shut up! I NEED my book. Or just something, anything, to read.”
Gee, one of us needs anger management therapy.
In the midst of my angst I noticed a woman who’d been reading from a book as she dined at the table nearest mine. She’d finished her meal and as I watched from the corner of my eye saw that she was preparing to leave.
I hesitated for a second before asking, “Excuse me, this is going to sound weird and slightly desperate, by I don’t suppose you have an extra book that I might buy from you.”
Now, the beauty of this is she totally understood my question. The sad part is that she’d just returned from a trip to see her sister and had given the sister a box full of books that she usually carried in her car.
We laughed about our respective reading addictions. She apologized for not having a book to offer. I laughed and told her no big deal while underneath my smile I was thinking, “Couldn’t you at least have saved one book for us, I mean, me?”
She left the cafe as my meal arrived and I began to eat in a desultory fashion. The food was excellent as always, but damn it, how could I enjoy myself when there were intrepid space explorers trapped on an exoplanet in my book, and how the heck was I going to save them if I couldn’t read the remainder of chapter 55 while I chewed?
That’s when an angel came to my rescue. The woman who’d taken a box of books to her sister came triumphantly back into the cafe waving a book.
“Look what I found,” she smiled.
“It must’ve fallen out of the box. It’s yours if you want it….”
I wanted to hug her, but I restrained myself, offering effusive thanks as I tried to pay her.
“Absolutely not!” she said. “I don’t know how anyone can eat alone without a good book for company.”
A true hero, that woman.
I opened the book and began a new adventure. John Grisham paired quite nicely with Tempeh Temptation.
Peace, people.
Pee Patrol
Seems like all I do lately is clean up “accidents” left by our younger cat, Patches. From the time I get out of bed in the morning I’m on constant alert for the smell (Oh, the smell!🤢) and the telltale wet spots of cat urine.
When I return to Doright Manor after a trip to the store or lunch with friends the first thing I do is patrol the entire house, spray bottle in hand, to identify and eradicate cat pee. Before we get into bed and in the middle of the night I do walk-throughs. I’m paranoid and exhausted.
Late yesterday evening, for the first time ever she relieved herself on Studly Doright’s side of the bed. Thank goodness the bedspread prevented the liquid from penetrating to the mattress, but it was a near miss. I was up late doing laundry and changing the bedding. Studly was not pleased.
So, even though she was examined for a urinary tract infection in October, Patches and I are at the vet’s again, hoping to find an answer.
Wish us both luck.
Patches is underneath the calming blanket, and is refusing requests from all paparazzi.
Peace, people.
Christmas Decor at Doright Manor
Doright Manor isn’t a fancy place. Studly Doright and I seldom (never) entertain, and neither of us is overly concerned with having a spotless house.
I do enjoy playing with decorative items, though. And while my styling taste is on the eclectic side it’s also not expensive. All those years of having no money taught me how to make do with the decorating resources at hand.
Here’s a little tour of a few of my Christmas vignettes:
The Santa above was purchased for me when I was about four. When Mom passed away it was one of the few items I wanted. The old guy is getting pretty worn, but he’s my favorite decoration.
This Christmas bear would greet guests at the front door if we ever had any. I bought him at a post-holiday sale many years ago.
My mismatched Christmas village is mostly comprised of items I’ve found at garage sales. I like that the items are built to different scales. Imperfection pleases me.
Studly Doright has yet to notice the sprig of mistletoe hanging in the main hallway. I’ve gone unkissed for several days now. Well not exactly, but no kissing has occurred under the mistletoe.
My preppy reindeer couple and stylized Christmas trees are relative newcomers to Doright Manor. I need a backdrop for them, but nothing has caught my eye yet.
Our main tree is perfect in an imperfect way. I used to do a fancy schmancy tree, but it was sort of boring.
Above are stockings that SHOULD have been given to my children when they started their own families, but I cry every time I think of letting them go. The bear was bought for our daughter’s first Christmas and the reindeer for our son’s. Neither of them holds many goodies, which was a good thing in those years we were so poor.
Since we don’t have a fireplace, our stockings are hung on the bookshelves with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. From left are Studly’s, mine, and the two cats’.
That’s our dining table with Santa and a single reindeer.
Below is my gigantic angel overseeing the nativity. Almost a Gulliver’s Travels situation going on here, but I love my nativity scene.
Scout was interested in my placement of each piece, so I took the opportunity to tell her the story of how Jesus came to be born in a stable and placed in a manger.
Here she is, looking for the baby. Well, that’s my story anyway.
My cowboy snowman is fittingly in the Texas guest room.
This Santa is in one of the guest bathrooms. He is quite discreet when folks need to use the facilities.
On my kitchen hutch is a party of reindeer being hosted by my naughty elf on the shelf. They raise a ruckus in the wee hours.
That’s about it, I suppose. Thanks for taking the tour.
Peace on earth, and good will towards men, people!
Chanel #5 Apology
Why was a Chanel #5 apology necessary?
Well, when you stayed up most of the night because your husband was snoring like the proverbial freight train, and when you tried to sleep on the sofa it smelled like perhaps the youngest cat had peed on one end and the more you explored the more you realized that the damned cat had pissed on EVERYTHING including two knitted throws, your husband’s recliner, the ever loving Christmas tree skirt, and a pair of sneakers, so you had to scrub and clean and cry and scrub some more before you finally fell back into your bed because maybe, just maybe your husband’s snoring had quieted down, but no sooner had you settled in than the bull elephant-like trumpeting began anew, so you said “screw it” and opened your kindle to read, but you just had three pages left in this book, so you had to download a new one, and there’s nothing on your wish list, so you had to search for just the right book, and you found one, but now your husband had ceased snoring, so you tried to close your eyes at 4:30 a.m. when the oldest cat jumped up on the bed and began walking back and forth across your head, forcing you to turn onto your back so she can snuggle in the manner to which she’s become accustomed, and you finally fell asleep only to miss the sound of your alarm, so you threw on your clothes after a quick shower without washing your hair because you had an appointment with an orthopedic specialist clear across Tallahassee and you’d be late if you had to wash, rinse, repeat, and blow dry your hair, and as you were driving to the dr.’s office you realized you can smell cat pee, but you aren’t sure if it’s something you’ve stepped in or leaned against or, heaven forbid, your hair, or if it’s just a phantom smell from all the pee you smelled during the night, and after they X-rayed your foot and put you in an examination room you started sniffing your clothes and hair and even your shoes and socks, but you couldn’t find the source of the smell, but you remembered you had an atomizer filled with Chanel #5 in your purse so you sprayed it around your head, but more came out than you intended, so then the small exam room smelled like a brothel, and it was too late to fix it because the doctor entered and you were so exhausted that you apologized for the overwhelming smell of perfume without even mentioning the cat pee, and STILL the dr. looked at you like you were crazy, as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve smelled much worse,” and you just barely kept from saying, “Like cat piss?”
How was your morning?
Calling Cupid
I see Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen, Comet and ________, and Donner and Blitzen.
What happened to Cupid? He was the one that got away. The reindeer ornament I never found at CVS. I had Rudolph, too, but he fell victim to a curious kitten and shattered into a bazillion pieces on our living room floor many years ago. No matter how many CVS locations I visited; though, I never found a Cupid.
As I type this, Studly Doright is searching eBay for the little guy. If he’s successful I might have him look for Rudolph, too. In the meantime I’m going to secure the remaining reindeer against a cat attack. The one responsible for Rudolph’s demise still resides at Doright Manor.
Peace, people!
A Good Book Day
Sometimes the garage and/or estate sale book hunt proves fruitless. I’ll go for weeks without finding something that tickles my fancy.
I am in a bit of a Harry Potter book drought. I’m currently in need of book five, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, (hard cover, used, in excellent condition) and the only one I’ve seen was a rather too well loved edition in a Tallahassee Goodwill shop. The search continues.
But I did find a couple of book gems at a yard sale outside of Havana, Florida, on Friday. While a good portion of the country’s population was out scrambling for Black Friday deals I was in a bucolic setting surrounded by a wonderful variety of goods–some antiques, some kitsch, and a whole lot of books. I bought two that I found amusing.
The first one I found is this automotive maintenance log written by my two favorite car guys, Tom and Ray Magliozzi.
Frequent NPR listeners know Tom and Ray as “Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers.” For years they hosted the wonderful Car Talk show, dishing out humor, car maintenance advice, and good conversation about everything.
Folks called into the show with questions about their cars, and while they’d eventually get a constructive answer or solution, they’d also get good-natured ribbing, maybe a history lesson, and sometimes even relationship advice. Tom passed away in 2014, but past episodes still air on some NPR stations. It remains one of my favorite radio shows.
The book, while primarily a travel journal and automotive maintenance record, includes many of the witticisms and driving tips from the show.
I told Studly I need a new car so I can put this to use. He wasn’t moved to action.
The second book find is one I know will come in handy as I learn to be a colorful raconteur.
As always I had to first checkout any bookmarked pages:
What a terrific resource for a person who tells anecdotes in a skillful and amusing way. If only I knew someone who fit that bill.
There’s much to explore in my two new-to-me books. If you need a good wisecrack or one-liner you know who to contact. Of course time is of the essence in most cases, so I probably won’t be of much help. But in regard to car maintenance questions, perhaps I can be your new reference point.
Let’s see, “What’s the best tip for driving during a blizzard?”
Or do what I did, and move to Florida. Problem solved. I’m really good at this. Next question….
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 