Tag: Studly Doright

How I Spent My Week

  • Around 8:30 on Thursday night I realized I had written nothing for the blog for Friday. There wasn’t even a decent draft to polish up for my readers. So, I’m taking the easy way out and giving a recap of my week.
    • Sunday afternoon Studly Doright and I went to see Alpha. We both enjoyed it, but had a lengthy discussion about whether the characters were computer generated or not. We refuse to google it.
    • Monday was a beach day since Studly had to travel for work. It was wonderful day, and I returned to Doright Manor refreshed and slightly sunburned. I also slept well even though Studly was gone.
    • On Tuesday I went to see Crazy Rich Asians at at a theater in Tallahassee. It’s a fun romantic comedy that made me desperately long for a trip to Singapore.
    • Wednesday was spent doing household chores and followed by shopping for an after five dress for an upcoming special occasion. I was unsuccessful, so the search will continue.
    • On Thursday I made a second foray into Tallahassee. I stopped by the Aveda Institute and took advantage of their customer appreciation day, booking several spa appointments for future dates. I ate lunch at Newk’s and then in the evening I hosted a Meetup group at the Wine Loft in Tallahasse. It was fun! Now that I’ve gotten to know some of these ladies better we’ve begun letting our hair down a bit. We got a little silly.
    • Tomorrow (Friday) I’m having a facial at Aveda, and who knows what’ll happen next? Maybe a nap….

    I might be a bit spoiled, but I am worth it.

    Peace, people

    What I Didn’t Ask

    She was sitting alone on the beach under her umbrella, this pleasant looking middle-aged woman, reading her book and looking up occasionally at the brilliant blue Gulf. I watched her surreptitiously from my own chair for many minutes, imagining the scenarios that might have led to her being there.

    I wondered if she, like me, has a husband who travels frequently leaving her to her own devices during the week. Perhaps she was a recent divorcée trying to find herself in the timeless rise and fall of the waves before moving on with her new single life. Maybe she was an international jewel thief, hiding out on Florida’s Forgotten Coast until she could find a place to offload her ill-gotten booty. Oh, the possibilities were endless.

    Then, she spoke to me, “Come, share my umbrella.”

    The temperature was 95°. I could hardly refuse an offer like that, even if she was an international jewel thief, so I picked up my chair and settled in beside her, instantly relieved to be out of the direct rays of the sun. I thanked her and for the next hour we chatted like old friends.

    She was closer to my age than I’d thought when watching her from several yards away, and attractive in a gamine sort of way. Her name was Tammy or Tammie, maybe Tammi. I didn’t ask for a spelling, and she and her husband were spending the week camping near St. George Island. Her sister and brother-in-law were planning to join them later that day.

    Tammy/Tammie/Tammi lives near Thomasville, Georgia, where they farm. They grow pecans among other crops. Her husband of 40 years had contracted skin cancer from spending many long hours working in the sun, so he stays in the camper during the day and comes to join her once the sun starts to set. It’s their routine.

    She’s one of four children, three girls and one boy, and their father died when they were all very young. Her mother was a strong woman who kept their family together and raised good kids. Her husband’s family is very big and boisterous and fun.

    I told her about Studly and me, our kids, and grandkids, and our many moves from state to state in our 42 years of marriage. How we hoped we could retire and live out the rest of our lives in Tallahassee, but how hard it is to be so far away from the rest of our family. I told her about my deceased parents and how much I miss them. I told her about my brothers and their families, and about Studly’s own boisterous family.

    Soon it came time for me to leave. I thanked her again for the shade and also for the conversation. As I walked away it occurred to me that she hadn’t mentioned children, and I hadn’t asked if she and her husband had any. Surely the existence of children would have come into the conversation at some point. Still I wish I’d asked. That, and about the jewel thief theory. That could still be a possibility.

    Peace, people.

    Tiramisu for Breakfast

    On Saturday evening, my husband, Studly Doright, took me to dine at one of his favorite Italian restaurants in Tallahassee, namely Riccardo’s. He and his office staff eat there at lunch fairly often, and even though Studly isn’t crazy about Italian food he likes Riccardo’s.

    The restaurant was packed when we got there. A family with three small, tired, and cranky children was seated before us, thankfully across the room from where we ended up. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, but when I’m enjoying a date night with Studly I’d rather not have my meal be punctuated with whining and tears.

    We decided fairly quickly what we wanted to order, but by some quirk of fate we had to share our waiter with the aforementioned family of five. After pinning down their drink orders he finally made it to our table. Studly and I didn’t waste any time. We knew exactly what we wanted: A caprese salad and a glass of wine for me, and a pepperoni, onion, and pineapple pizza for him, with a half order of bread for us to share.

    To make a long story short, our bread never arrived, and Studly’s pizza was delivered sans pepperoni. Our waiter never checked to see if we needed more to drink (neither of us did, but that’s beside the point). In lieu of bread to go with my salad I nibbled on one of Studly’s pineapple and onion pizza slices. It was decent, but I’m a fan of a less sweet sauce.

    When we finally got our waiter’s attention we told him about the missing bread and the pizza faux pas. He was contrite, but I think the family of five had him totally flustered. And honestly, we probably had a much healthier meal without the bread and pepperoni.

    As an apology he brought a slice of tiramisu over with our check, and with that move the healthy aspect to the meal flew right out the window. Boom. I did limit myself to half of the slice, saving the other half for breakfast. It doesn’t look like much now, but trust me, it was delicious. See, even a healthy cloud might have a tiramisu lining.

    Peace, people.

    Chef’s Choice

    After Studly Doright’s round of golf yesterday and my round of garage sale foraging we both returned home to Doright Manor and took well-deserved naps. Actually, I’m not sure I’d done anything to merit such a good nap, but I enjoyed one anyway.

    Studly awakened before me and went out to do some work in his shop. Apparently I had been snoring too loudly for him to continue sleeping. I am woman, hear me roar!

    After he came back into the house Studly took a shower and then harassed me until I woke up. He wanted to go into Tallahassee for Italian food, so I wiped the drool off of my chin, the sleep out of my eyes, and tried to make myself presentable for dinner out.

    We went to Riccardo’s for dinner. I’d never been before, but Studly and his workmates eat there fairly often. The place was packed on a Saturday night, but we got a table and ordered fairly quickly. I ordered a caprese salad and a glass of wine, but Studly ordered a pepperoni pizza with pineapples and onion.

    After the waiter left to turn in our orders Studly told me about a time he’d been in Orlando on business, and he stopped in at a small pizzeria on his way back to his hotel after work.

    He said, “I ordered the same thing I did tonight: pepperoni with onions and pineapple. The waiter frowned and said he didn’t know if they even had pineapple, but he’d check. After a few minutes the waiter came back to my table and said, ‘Sir, I’m sorry. We do have pineapple, but the chef said that’s a horrible combination and he refuses to make it.'”

    I was kind of shocked. Wouldn’t one go with the theory that the customer is always right? Shouldn’t the chef have made the pizza as requested?

    Now, I know that pineapple on pizza is controversial. I’m a fan, but apparently not everyone is. What say you? Yay or nay on the pineapple? This is a matter of great importance.

    Snapshot #217

    Saturday I woke up early and decided to drive to Crawfordville, FL, to check out a neighborhood garage sale. I guess I’d fared so well on last week’s bargain that I thought I could find another such piece. Wrong. There wasn’t anything for sale even remotely worthy of a photograph.

    So, I texted Studly and asked if I could join him for lunch after his round of golf at Southwood. He gave the okay, and I sat outside the restaurant waiting for him to come off the back nine.

    Fittingly, this snapshot is called, Waiting for Godot, er, Studly.

    Peace, people.

    Snapshots #213, #214, #215, and #216, or “Before and After”

    Last Saturday I brought home this piece from a garage sale:

    The above photo is titled, Studly Doright Will Just See an Ugly Old Chair, while the photo below is, Surprise! It’s an Ugly Old Hamper, Too!

    It was a bargain at $5.00, and I figured even I was up to the task of making it pretty again. And contrary to the title, Studly actually thought I’d found a gem!

    Just look how beautiful it is all cleaned up!

    Besides finding a colorful new cushion for the chair, I also applied a bit of oak tinted furniture repair paint to the white splotches, and then rubbed tung oil into the rattan. I am incredibly pleased with the results. I call these photos, Bare, Beautiful Chair, and Ta Da! respectively.

    Now I just need to find a place for this beauty. None of my bathrooms has a vanity table or counter, but the chair might find a spot in my bedroom. I can picture the cats making themselves comfy on the cushion. Studly suggested selling it. Maybe he was just pretending to like the chair. Harrumph.

    Peace, people!

    For Your Viewing Pleasure: Godless

    One of Studly Doright’s co-workers recently sent him home with the Netflix series, Godless. We didn’t binge watch the series, but only because things like work and entertaining the Texas grandkids took precedence. Otherwise we might’ve done nothing but watch this one-season series from start to finish.

    Godless is an unconventional western featuring an ensemble of strong, independent female characters, non-stereotypical Native Americans, as well as a highly nuanced villain played brilliantly by Jeff Bridges.

    This Steven Soderbergh production follows a band of ruthless raiders led by Bridges’s character, Frank Griffin, as they scour the southwest searching for Roy Goode (Jack O’Connell), who has stolen a large sum of money from Griffin’s team and left the group for parts unknown.

    The opening scene shows the brutal aftermath of Griffin’s band’s vengeance on a small town where Goode had received shelter while on the run. Every man, woman, and child in the village had been slaughtered and their bodies left in the streets as a warning to anyone who might offer assistance to Roy in the future.

    Roy, who’d been shot during an exchange with Griffin’s men is tended to by a widow, Alice Fletcher, played by Michelle Dockery, along with her mother-in-law, Iyovi (Tantoo Cardinal) and her son, Truckee (Samuel Marty). Alice and her family live on a ranch outside the mining town of La Belle, Colorado.

    La Belle is populated almost exclusively by women after a mine explosion claimed the lives of most of the town’s males. The women of La Belle have had to rethink their roles and to challenge the ways in which women are viewed and restricted during the period immediately following the Civil War. Their lives aren’t easy, but these females aren’t quitters.

    The viewer knows that at some point Griffin and his murderous marauders are going to discover where Roy Goode has taken up residence. The women of La Belle think Roy’s last name is Ward and have no idea that Griffin is on his way to wreak havoc on the community. That is until a newspaperman, (Jeremy Bobb) from another community realizes who Ward is while visiting La Belle in pursuit of a story. Griffin discovers where Goode is even as the ladies of La Belle learn they’ve been harboring the object of Griffin’s wrath. Whew. The climactic scene is intense, and everything leading up to the climax is beautifully crafted.

    The casting choices for Godless were impeccable. Merritt Wever plays one of La Belle’s widows who has thrown off the trappings of femininity to lead her “sisters” through an uncertain future. Her brother, played by Scoot McNairy, is the town’s sheriff. He’s also slowly going blind, but doesn’t want anyone to know. One of my favorite actors, Sam Waterston, portrays a federal marshall on the trail of Frank Griffin.

    If you enjoy westerns then this one-season series is worth watching. Yes, there’s violence and some nudity and sexuality, but the tale is gripping. The only downside is that Godless consists only of seven episodes. Studly and I are in a funk now that it’s over. We both hope there might be a spin-off series down the line.

    Peace, people.

    What Would You Remember?

    This morning while Studly played for the final day in his club’s golf tournament I decided to take myself to brunch at the Canopy Road Cafe on Apalachee Parkway in Tallahassee. It’s a bit of a drive from Doright Manor to this cafe, so I had plenty of time to listen to an entire episode of NPR’s RadioLab on Sirius/XM.

    The segment that gave me pause was one about a music conductor who suffered an illness that resulted in him having the worst case of amnesia ever recorded. He literally could not remember what happened from one minute to the next. He attempted to keep a journal at the urging of his nurses, but the entries went something like It’s 8:02 and I am fully awake. This was followed by, It is now 8:03, and I’m truly awake. Then, It is 8:04 and I am awake!This pattern continued until something else occurred in his routine.

    Since I was driving I didn’t write down his name, but I do remember that of his wife, Claudia. I remember because she was one of only two touchstones in his life. He might not always remember her name, but he lit up when he saw her and he wanted only to be near her, to kiss her, and to enjoy her hugs.

    He also remembered how to read music and could sing lyrics to familiar songs. Claudia brought his choir members to the facility in which he lived, and her husband was able to conduct their performance as if nothing had ever changed.

    All I could think of as I ate my omelet this morning was what would I remember if inflicted with a similar fate. Would it be Studly Doright’s face? Those of my children? Would it be my favorite books or movies? What would survive an almost complete memory loss?

    There’s no way of knowing, of course, and I hope I never have to deal with Alzheimer’s or dementia, or any other memory stealing event. Still, maybe I need to begin reinforcing pleasant memories. Note to self: Give Studly a big hug and kiss when he returns from golf today.

    What do you think you’d remember? Are there things you wouldn’t mind not being able to recall? That’s dangerous territory.

    Peace, people.

    Snapshots #213 and #214

    Studly Doright is playing in a two day golf tournament at his course this weekend. It’s his first tournament since undergoing minor back surgery several months ago. He’s only played a couple of rounds in the past few weeks, so this tournament will be a test of his fortitude as well as his golfing skills.

    Rather than sit at home doing nothing, I drove into Tallahassee and bummed around, finally stumbling onto a neighborhood garage sale. It was 10:30 a.m. before I found the sale, and most of the homes were running low on merchandise. In garage sale shopping the early bird truly does get the worm.

    I wasn’t searching for anything specific, though, so I parked at one home and walked from sale to sale enjoying the mild weather and visiting with folks along the way.

    Then I saw this piece:

    It’s a wicker vanity chair with a built-in hamper. I’d never seen such a thing, so even though I have no idea where I’m going to put it I bought the silly thing for $5.00. The chair needs a new cushion and perhaps a coat of paint to cover up the marks on the front of the hamper.

    I’m calling the first photo, Studly Doright Will Just See an Ugly Old Chair, and the second one, Surprise! It’s also an Ugly Old Hamper.

    Peace, people!

    Participation Time

    I came upon this graphic online and shared it on my Facebook page. So far, it’s generated a good many responses. My answer was easy: jeans, books, and wine.

    However, I don’t drink much wine, or any alcohol, since my stomach decided to revolt back in May, so I’ve need to make a different choice for the third spot.

    Since I’m losing something consumable let’s examine similar choices. I don’t drink coffee anymore, and I can live without chocolate. Tea is lovely, but not a must have. Tacos are the part of my Mexican meal that I leave for last in case I become too full to eat everything on my plate, so they can be dispensed with.

    We don’t do Netflix at Doright Manor, so that’s something I can easily do without. The same goes for dry shampoo. As short as my hair is I can’t see any advantage to dry shampooing over wet shampooing. And along the same lines, there’s no way I can form a messy bun. I have a messy strand or two, but nothing “bunnable.”

    By my reckoning that leaves jewelry, pajamas, lipstick, and leggings. I own a few pairs of leggings, but apparently they’re only in my closet for decorative and dust-catching purposes. They are super comfy on rainy, stay at home days, but then so are pajamas. Out with leggings, then.

    Lipstick, they say, is critical for aging women. However, since I don’t know who “they” are, I’m going to ignore their advice. My lipstick never stays for more than an hour at a time, anyway, so buh-bye. I can always use crushed berries gathered from the forest if I need to color my lips.

    Down to two choices now, jewelry and pajamas.

    I love my pajamas. They’re soft and they keep my thighs from touching each other at night. I own three nearly identical pairs of pajamas, and they give me comfort.

    As for the jewelry, I don’t own many expensive pieces. My wedding set isn’t worth much, but it has significant emotional and sentimental value. Studly Doright has bought me a couple of lovely items these past few years that in a pinch I suppose I could sell. Then there are the Celtic earrings I picked up in Scotland and the necklace I purchased from a craftsman at the Poulnabrone Dolmen in Ireland. I wear those pieces nearly every day.

    Pajamas or jewelry? Oh man. I’m going with jewelry. No, pajamas. No. It’s jewelry. Final answer. My thighs are going to have to find a way to get along. I’ll just invest in anti-chafing cream and hope the stock market makes us rich.

    Give it a go–which three items would you choose to keep and why? I’m curious.

    Peace, people.