Super Power

Not too many days ago I published a piece titled, “Manipulating Space” in which I explored the very slight possibility that I might have been endowed with the super power of making myself, and my vehicle, smaller for the purpose of avoiding an accident.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/07/30/manipulating-space/

Now no one, including me, took that possibility seriously, but yesterday I had another episode that could’ve been attributed to spatial manipulation, but more likely was the result of my excellent driving skills. I can’t read that last part aloud without Studly Doright convulsing in fits of laughter. He’d sooner believe I had a super power.

Here’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. On the spur of the moment I’d decided to go to a movie in Tallahassee. Studly was out of town, and my evening stretched before me like an endless sea. It was either see a movie or watch television all evening. The movie, Blinded by the Light won.

I had about half an hour to get to the theatre, more if you figure in the twenty minutes of trailers before the film, but I needed to buy my ticket and a snack, so there was no time to waste. I grabbed a wrap and my umbrella and began the drive into town.

Traffic was pretty heavy on the road between Quincy and Midway. I found myself following a pickup truck towing a trailer loaded with a junk car. Just before we reached Midway, the windshield of the junk car blew out onto the road right in front of me.

Did I do the whole space manipulation thing? Nope, I just deftly maneuvered my car around all the debris and emerged unscathed. I’ll save my super powers for real emergencies.

Peace, people.

True Story, or as Close as I Can Get

When we tell a true story, especially one in which tempers flared, the tendency is always to make oneself the good guy in the retelling. I’m going to do my best to relate the story of an interaction I had yesterday in a Publix grocery store as rationally and objectively as I can. Wish me luck.

I’d had a beautifully relaxing facial on Thursday morning, and was driving home to Doright Manor when I remembered that we needed a few items from the grocery store. Since I was just a mile or so from a Publix store I changed my route slightly and headed there.

First I went to the beauty aisle to pick up some shampoo for Studly Doright. He’s the most manly of men, yet he likes what I call, “Froo Froo” scented shampoos. Lots of florals or fruit essences. Sometimes I sneak in a more neutral scented shampoo, but I always end up having to use it because he won’t.

Then I shopped the produce section, searching for apples, oranges, strawberries, bananas and pineapple to satisfy our juicing habit. Studly really enjoys making juice every evening, and I try to keep fresh fruits on hand to encourage this new habit. Better fruit scented juice than fruit scented hair, I always say.

Finally I went to pick out a steak or two for him. I seldom eat meat anymore, but Studly does. I pulled my cart up parallel to the meat case, leaving a couple of feet between the cart and the case so others could peruse the section, as well.

I picked up one package of meat, placed it in a plastic bag inside my cart and turned to get another one. At the same time this big bruiser of a woman pulled her cart between mine and the case, moving me out of the way. I politely waited, thinking she’d be through soon, but she pulled out her phone and made a non-food related call.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Are you going to be awhile?”

“As long as it takes, lady.”

“Do you think perhaps I could have some room to get to the steaks?”

“When I’m done,” she said.

Okay, here I was wearing my peace sign t-shirt, feeling my blood pressure spike. This woman was almost my height, maybe an inch less than my 5’8″, but outweighed me by a good 50 lbs.

I indicated my cart, and said, “In case you hadn’t noticed, I parked my cart to allow others to shop as well. Not for you to block me out.”

“Tough!”

“Listen, lady, I’m going to look at the steaks whether you move or not.” I proceeded then to put my hip into her cart and push. Whew. Not smart, but damn. She had my dander up.

That’s when she threatened to knock the shit out of me. Her exact words.

Now, I should explain here that I did take a step back, but at the same time I said, “Bring it, bitch.”

My brain was screaming at me to shut up. There’s no way I wanted to fight, and I have no idea what I’d have done if she had taken a swing at me. Thankfully I didn’t have to find out. She turned her back, allowed me to find my steaks, and then I went to the checkout counter.

I’m sure she’s telling somebody about the mean hippie chick who threatened her at the Publix today. I still can’t believe I let her get to me like that. The steaks would’ve been there if I’d walked away for five minutes and come back to shop at my leisure. I’m so not proud of myself.

To top it off, I ruined the good vibes I had going from my facial. Damn.

Peace!!!! People.

Sunday, Lazy Sunday

Studly Doright played in a two-day golf tournament this past weekend, so I was pretty much on my own both Saturday and Sunday. I didn’t do much other than running errands and doing laundry.

On Sunday I took myself to lunch at my favorite little vegan spot, the Sweet Pea Cafe, where I enjoyed French toast with slices of bananas and strawberries, home fries, and grits. Normally I don’t care for grits, but these were primo.

Someone in the cafe was enjoying a mimosa, so after I finished my meal I decided to stay and sip on one while reading a book. Mmmm. So good. I took my time with the drink then drove home to Doright Manor where I promptly planted my butt on the sofa and proceeded to nap for the rest of the afternoon. I’m blaming the mimosa. I’m also thanking it.

Peace, people.

What? Me Worry?

This morning I read a post from IM Fletcher on his blog The Jane Doe Byline, that started my mind down the Worry Path.

https://thejanedoebyline.wordpress.com/2019/08/07/pivotal-date-aug-12th/

I pretty much live just off of the Worry Path on the corner of Anxiety Avenue and Worst Case Scenario Lane in a two-story house made of faux adobe. The house itself is a cause for concern.

Last week I worried about my adult children and their children traveling by car and/or plane to our family reunion in Texas. I worried about Studly Doright riding the backroads on his motorcycle across multiple states to join us at the reunion. I worried about my cats who’d stayed behind under the care of a competent pet sitter.

Oddly enough, I never worried about my own safety as I hurtled across the skies inside machines that seem to defy gravity and logic. That kind of worry would just be stupid.

Thanks to my diligent worrying, every one of us made it safely to and from the reunion. Once again, my efforts paid off. I’m exhausted. Now, what should I worry about this week? Unfortunately, the possibilities are endless.

Here’s a poem I posted a while back, in case you think I’m a novice worrier:

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/10/31/the-queen-of-worry/

Peace, people!

Snapshot #262

Today I’m heading home to Doright Manor after an extended weekend in Hereford, Texas. As I write this I’m at gate A14 in the Dallas-Ft. Worth Airport, and Studly Doright is on his motorcycle on a backroad somewhere in the middle of nowhere also heading towards Doright Manor.

We were in Texas for a Noyes family reunion, and we had quite a good time visiting with family members from near and far. I might share more photos from the event at a later date, but for now I wanted to post this one because it features two of my favorite nephews, who I seldom get to see, and me.

Let’s call this one, “Happy!”

And, In Other News

Today marks the 43rd year of my marriage to Studly Doright. Guess who forgot? Not Studly.

He called me early Tuesday morning on his way home from Orlando, and in response to my “hello,” he said, “happy anniversary,” prompting a quick glance at my calendar. Sure enough, July 30. Well, how about that.

Up until today I’d never forgotten the date of the day we said “I do” in a small Baptist church in Dumas, Texas. After 43 years maybe he’ll cut me some slack.

Time sure flies when you’re married to your best friend.

Peace, people.

She Said She Shed

I was investigating an estate sale in mid-town Tallahassee, on Friday morning, and while I didn’t purchase anything, I fell in love with this backyard potting shed. As soon as Studly Doright returned home I showed him this photo and told him I thought I needed a she shed of my own.

“But you don’t garden!” he said.

“Well, I might if I had a nifty she shed,” I replied. “Or maybe I’d use it as my writing nook. Who knows, maybe the next great American novel could be written in such a shed.”

“Oh, you’re planning on letting someone else use it then,” he said.

I’d have hit him with my gardening shears if I’d had any.

But, can we agree it’s a lovely she shed?

Peace, people!

Studly and Siri

Last night I was on my third glass of wine when Studly Doright began planning his motorcycle trip from Doright Manor to his mom’s house in Hereford, Texas. I kept hearing him mumble into his phone.

“Siri, how far is it from Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama? No, not Dowland, Dothan.

“How far from Dothan to Montgomery, Alabama?”

Some unintelligible mumbling.

This went on for at least twenty minutes. One town after another, one misunderstanding after another. Twice I thought he was talking to me. A couple of times I questioned his judgement.

“Little Rock, Arkansas? That’s way out of your way!” I said.

“Shhhh!” he shushed. “Siri and I have a thing going on.”

She helped him plot his route from Havana, Florida, to Bainbridge, Georgia, to Dothan, Alabama, to Montgomery, Alabama to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, to Columbus, Mississippi, to Indianola, Mississippi, to Hot Springs, Arkansas, to McAlester, Oklahoma, to Wellington, Texas, to his final destination of Hereford, Texas.

Whew! My route is much easier: Drive to the Tallahassee airport, board a flight to Dallas, Texas, at 7:45, change planes and arrive in Amarillo by 1:44. Siri never got involved.

He’s taking the road less traveled; I’m taking the friendly skies. Hopefully our paths will converge in the Texas panhandle. If not, Siri’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Peace, people!

Shhh, Alexa’s Listening

Those of you who are Amazon users might have taken advantage of a few deals during the site’s Prime Days on the 15th and 16th of this month. I’d made up my mind to forego any shopping on those days, even going so far as to post this on Facebook:

I was going to resist the urge, by golly!

Of course the second I hit post I thought, “It won’t hurt to just browse….” And there, right in plain sight on the Amazon feed was the product I didn’t know existed but desperately needed anyway:

Why did I NEED this, you ask? Some of my readers know that I struggle with insomnia, but that the Calm app I downloaded several months ago has helped immensely with my sleep problems. The only downside to the app is that I feared it would interfere with Studly Doright’s rest.

So several nights ago as we were preparing to sleep I told Studly I wished I had a special Bluetooth speaker that I could somehow wear comfortably to bed. I dislike earbuds, and regular headphones were out of the question since I sleep on my side. He assured me that my sleep stories on the Calm app didn’t bother him, and I promptly forgot about it. Until Prime Day, that is, when a product fitting my exact needs popped up magically in the “Look What We Found Just For You” section on Amazon.

Like the earnest consumer I am, I quickly read the reviews and ordered the headphones/mask. It arrived two days ago, and I got to familiarize myself with the mask while Studly was out of town. I’m not great at this newfangled technology like some of you young whippersnappers out there, but with just a little fumfering about I soon had one of my favorite sleep stories playing just for me, in a concert for one.

Now, this sleep mask was the very first thing that popped up on my Amazon feed on Tuesday. How did they know it’s what I wanted/needed? I have my suspicions:

Remember that bedtime conversation Studly and I had a few nights back? My Amazon Echo sits on the bookshelf right next to my side of the bed. Is it too outrageous to think Alexa might’ve listened in? I have some strong words for her in that case:

“Alexa, stop eavesdropping! Unless, of course, you happen to have additional recommendations that will make my life better. In that case, carry on.”

Peace, people!

A Sacrificial Offering

Studly Doright was out of town last night, and I didn’t sleep more than an hour or so. This morning I enjoyed a shower then puttered around the house before going out on the back porch to read. Soon, I found myself dozing off, so I retired to the sofa where I planned to close my eyes for just a couple of minutes.

Two hours later (!) I was awakened by my watch buzzing indicating a call. I was completely disoriented at first, even flummoxed, having no idea of the time of day or even my surroundings. I managed to carry on a fairly rational conversation, I think, with the caller, though, and after saying goodbye I took stock of my situation.

There I was with my Kindle on my chest, my hair dried and sticking out all over, and a spindle of drool clinging to the corner of my mouth. Thank goodness it hadn’t been a FaceTime call!

I think the cats thought I’d died. One left a sacrificial mouse in my shoe:

Maybe their feline deity accepted the sacrifice and brought me back for another day. I’ll try to be worthy.

Peace, people.