Tag: Studly Doright

Food of Dreams

Is there a particular food you are so fond of that you dream about it? You know I wouldn’t ask such a question if I didn’t intend to tell you about my dream food, right? I’d make you guess, but I doubt anyone except my friend Lila would even come close, and she only reads my blog sporadically.

How about a multiple choice quiz?

a) grilled shrimp

b) sushi

c) pepperoni pizza with onions and pineapples

d) gazpacho

Okay, if you chose a, b, or c, you’re not far off, I’m fond of them all, but d) gazpacho is my ultimate craving. I can taste it even as I type.

The first time I had this cold tomato soup I was in a high school home economics class. As I recall a local farmer had donated a whole bunch of tomatoes to our class, and our instructor, Mrs. Craig, decided to introduce us to a dish most of us had never heard of. I remember wrinkling my nose at the prospect of a cold soup, but then being quite taken by the combination of tastes. Still, I didn’t try gazpacho again until I was in my forties, and that’s when I became slightly addicted to it.

I’ve never actually made gazpacho. Studly Doright refuses to try it, and I don’t want to be wasteful. Plus, I eat too many tomatoes too often, I break out in a rash. Last night, though, Studly was out of town, and I decided to make myself gazpacho juice using our favorite new toy–a masticating juicer.

My juice was awesome. I need to fine tune the recipe a bit to make it taste more like the soup I crave, but I’m already close to having it perfect.

Here’s a recipe for gazpacho, although, it can be made with different ingredients, and below that, one for the juice I made.

Gazpacho Recipe from Barefoot Contessa website

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Gazpacho Juice

Ingredients 
  • 4 pieces plum tomatoes
  • 1 piece red bell pepper
  • 1 piece lime
  • 1 piece large cucumber
  • 1/4 piece small red onion
  • 2 cups parsley leaves
Directions
  1. Wash all produce well
  2. Stem and roughly chop parsley
  3. Peel cucumber and lime
  4. Juice in a juicer
  5. Pour over ice and enjoy!

Yummy stuff.

Peace, and good eating, people!

Like Old Times

I went for a swim last night. It was my first real swim in over three years, and I relished every stroke.

Studly Doright and I had a pool once, back when we lived in Melbourne, Florida. Our backyard there was perfect for a small in-ground pool, and I swam almost every day all year round. When we moved to Illinois we didn’t even consider adding a pool to our property, but I’d hoped we’d have one if we ever returned to the Sunshine State.

We’ve been in the Tallahassee area for more than five years now, and I’ve given up on having a pool of my own. The backyard here at Doright Manor isn’t conducive to a pool–the ground slopes down to the lake and the expense to shore it up in addition to that of building a lanai around it, wouldn’t be practical at this stage in our lives. Studly would like to retire at some point, and I can’t say I blame him. Still, I miss swimming.

Tallahassee has some fine city parks with pools, though, and last night I decided to join one of the water aerobics classes at the park nearest my home. Slipping into the water felt like coming home, and I patiently went through the exercises as our instructor led the way. Then, glory of glories, she had us swim a couple of laps. I was afraid I wouldn’t remember how, or wouldn’t be able to make one lap, let alone two.

But I was good. Smooth and easy like I’d never stopped swimming. I fantasized that the young lifeguard on duty might stop me as I left the pool and compliment me on my form. Perhaps, I thought, he might ask if I’d ever competed in high school or even college. I’d have blushed and told him no, then thanked him for the compliment. For the record, he didn’t single me out for special recognition. I’ll just have to work harder next time.

Tomorrow my muscles will likely be a little sore, but I’ll relish the pain. I can’t wait for the next time.

Peace, people!

In the Middle of the Night

A couple of nights ago I was awakened by the sound of feet running down the hall and into our bathroom. I sat up, noted that Studly wasn’t in bed, and called his name. There was no answer.

I got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom worried that Studly, who’d been under the weather, had gotten sick. The bathroom, though, was empty. Hmmm. I checked the den and there he was, snoring away from the comfort of his recliner.

Returning to bed, I surmised that the cats had enjoyed one of their tumbling runs through the house, even though the sound of running feet had seemed much louder than two middling sized cats could’ve generated. Again I dozed off into dreamland.

Sometime before dawn, I was startled awake again by the same sound of running feet. This time I noted that one cat, Scout, was sleeping peacefully beside me and that her “sibling,” Patches, was firmly ensconced in her favorite chair. Studly, was still in his recliner snoring like a freight train. Obviously I had experienced an auditory dream. It was unnerving.

Have any of you experienced such a phenomenon? Often I hear music in my dreams that lingers over into my waking life, but the sound of running feet was a first. I don’t want to hear that ever again.

Instead, I’ll listen to Billy Joel.

https://youtu.be/yb9rvpTDIsg

Peace, people!

Oh, the Humanity!

It might not have been a good idea to watch Avengers: Endgame on Sunday morning and this season’s Episode 3 of Game of Thrones on Monday evening. I’m an emotional wreck.

No spoilers, but in both cases some favorite characters died. I know exactly which ones left us in Endgame, but thanks to the overly dark ambience in Game of Thrones, I’m not completely sure who was killed and who is still among the living. There may be tears shed after next week’s episode when we learn their fates.

On a slightly, but not really, related note, this floater in my right eye is bumming me out. My understanding is that it might be my new normal. I’m thinking of naming it “Splot” because it’s more than a “Spot,” but less than a “Blot.” Out, damned Splot!

I teared up as I told Studly Doright that there’s a possibility I’ll never get to ride a roller coaster again for fear of ending up with a detached retina. Roller coasters are my thing, and I’d hoped for a few more good years of riding with my grandkids. Studly, who doesn’t want anything to do with roller coasters had trouble empathizing with me.

“It’s like when you had to give up racquetball after your knee replacement surgeries,” I told him.

“Yep, and I did it,” he gloated. Studly isn’t exactly known for his willpower, so that carried some weight.

“As long as I can still read, I guess I’ll be okay,” I sighed.

“Look on the bright side,” Studly said. “Reading has never sent you to the chiropractor. Roller coaster riding always does.”

He’s right, dammit. Here’s to many more years of reading.

Peace, people.

Thanks, Thanos

If you’ve watched Avengers, Infinity War, chances are you’ve wondered if you were one of the lucky ones who survived the population culling brought on by Thanos. I know I’ve contemplated my fate.

Now, thanks to www.didthanoskill.me you can have certainty and plan accordingly. As for me:

Yes, I’ll be around. I’m anxious to have Studly Doright check his status, though. It could get lonely during the apocalypse. Captain America survived. He might be a good stand in for Studly, in a pinch.

Under the Bus

A couple of days ago I shared my hurt feelings with my readers about a comment my husband made in regard to my new haircut, and in the process kind of threw Studly Doright under the bus. After all, on my blog it’s only my side of a story that gets told.

Studly Doright is a really good guy. He’s not perfect by any means, but he’s a decent man in every sense of the word (there’s a reason I call him Studly Doright). When I told him how I’d been hurt by his negative comment he was genuinely surprised that it had sounded so harsh to my ears, and apologized profusely.

He’d made the comment by phone after several long days of travel/work and I received the comment after several days of little sleep. That wasn’t a great communication construct. Once we were face to face the vibe was much better. A good night’s sleep didn’t hurt either.

I need to learn to recognize when my emotions are taking over my brain’s functioning. And I definitely need to resist throwing Studly under the bus. Thanks for all the advice, though. I gained some great insights through this process.

Peace, people.

Underwhelming Response

This is a post I won’t share on Facebook. It’s just between you and me. My feelings are hurt, and I feel unreasonably angry, so help me know how to handle this situation.

Studly Doright has been working in Orlando all this week and is set to return home tonight. He called last evening to give me an update, and we chatted for a few minutes before he had to meet his coworkers for dinner.

I told him I’d gotten my haircut and jokingly said, “You might mistake me for a Bob or a Tom when you get home.”

Silence.

“Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m probably not going to like it.”

Just like that, my night felt ruined. I stammered something, trying to laugh it off, but it hurt and now I’m dreading seeing him when he arrives home tonight.

So, how would you have reacted? How do I handle his homecoming?

Just Okay

Yesterday I got my hair cut really short. It’s so short that even my meager styling skills are sufficient to keep my hair looking okay.

I’m good with just okay. If I had any thoughts of entering a beauty pageant in the future I’d need to have higher personal beauty standards, but that boat sailed, and sank, many years ago.

Studly Doright dated a beauty pageant winner before he started dating me. She dumped him, and for a long time I agonized about being just okay knowing his previous girlfriend was a beauty. I wore my inferiority complex like a consolation prize badge.

Studly and I even double dated with the beauty queen and her boyfriend, further complicating and elevating my complex. I was a mess.

I used to fantasize about being a great beauty, or failing that, that my sparkling personality might at least earn me a Miss Congeniality nod in a pageant. Sadly, my personality is just okay, as well.

Maybe I could’ve won the Miss Magic Marker pageant. My fine motor skills are decent, and I’d be fine with someone printing large M’s on my tatas. Alas, I was born too late.

Now, if there was a Miss Procrastination pageant, I’d be all over that.

I’ve excelled at procrastinating long enough to write this blog post. Time to go back to being just okay.

Peace, people!

Odd Injury

What’s the oddest injury you’ve ever had? I’m a lightning rod for odd injuries. Just today I noticed a small cut on the tip of my middle finger. It’s similar to a paper cut, but I’m positive I’d recall having gotten one of those.

After discussing the injury with Studly Doright I’ve decided it’s probably a flossing related injury. Yes, my desire for good dental hygiene is injurious to my health. Go figure.

I might live longer, but at what cost?

Peace, people.

Not My Guinness!

We’re having some work done on our driveway at Doright Manor. Tree roots had mangled the drive causing it to crack and heave as if an earthquake had struck. The guys began work early this morning and are just now getting ready to add texture to the new concrete so it’ll match the concrete around it.

Studly Doright came in from supervising the workers, peered into the refrigerator, and interrupted my reading to ask, “Which beer should I give the guys?”

“Not my Guinness!” I squeaked, even though I can’t enjoy a Guinness for a few weeks. “There’s Michelob Ultra and Corona in the shop fridge.”

Studly just laughed, saying, “Touchy, aren’t you?” But he did leave my beer alone, thank you very much!

Can’t believe he considered giving my beer away.

He called me out to look at the new section of driveway, and this is what I saw:

Poor little guy’s living quarters have been disrupted! Apparently he’d patrolled the worksite off and on all morning, much to the chagrin of a couple of workers.

I might let the snake have a sip of Guinness to compensate him for his loss. Cheers!

Peace, people!