I’m beginning to think I might fit the profile of a hoarder. These boxes were stashed in various bathroom drawers. There isn’t anything inside any of them. Completely empty.
I’d like to blame some of this foolishness on Studly Doright. And that’s exactly what I’ll do. Brilliant.
“Studly, you got some ‘splaining to do!”
Good riddance to empty boxes.
Several weeks ago I posted about Stretching Your Life, a business owned and operated by kinesiologists in Tallahassee. As a 61-year-old I’d become dissatisfied with feeling like a 91-year-old, while my mind kept insisting I’m only 40-something. The disconnect was driving me nuts. I’d even sold my motorcycle because it was exceedingly painful to put my leg over the seat.
One of Studly Doright’s golf buddies referred me to Stretching for Life and I’ve had two sessions of intense one-to-one stretching along with three group stretching sessions. In addition, Jen, the kinesiologist with whom I work most closely, thought I’d benefit from A.R.P. therapy at a chiropractic office in town.
A.R.P. therapy (which I’ve also heard referred to as A.R.T. and A.R.C.) is akin to STIM therapy, in that small padded electrodes are attached to the body and emit a series of electrical impulses that cause the muscles to contract and relax. But A.R.P. is much more intense, the padded electrodes are larger, and the patient is physically active during the therapy.
I almost cried at my first visit, not because it was painful, but because I could feel the muscles in my thighs and hips letting go of their normal clinched and pinched state. I could lift my knee and simulate throwing my leg over a motorcycle seat–something I haven’t been able to do in over a year.
Now after three A.R.P. therapy sessions I’m moving much better, and the chiropractor is ready to turn me back over to Jen. The secret is to keep stretching and try to gain even more flexibility in the process. Who knows, maybe my body and mind can meet somewhere in the middle!
Peace, people!
Arts and crafts are not my thing, but for some reason there are a great many doodads and thingamajigs scattered about Doright Manor that would be found in one’s local crafts store. Since today is day four of the minimalist challenge and I had exactly four rolls of ribbon, I thought it the perfect day to rid myself of them.
Four rolls of ribbon that I’ve never used, but that are not brand new. Hence, I believe I might’ve purchased these at a garage sale thinking that I’d create something cute or use them to make a gift prettier. Instead, they’ve crouched, hidden among all my other lonely arts and crafts items, waiting with baited breath for me to notice them. Alas, they were relegated to a spot in my home where cobwebs dwell.
Goodbye ribbon. May you go to a good home where you’ll serve some greater purpose.
Peace, people.
Have you ever looked at your spouse and thought, “What the hell?” Maybe he or she has done something so out of character that you are briefly taken aback. Perhaps they’ve said something that makes you question your entire relationship.
Several years ago Studly Doright and I were seated at a booth in a restaurant in Champaign, Illinois. When the waiter took our drink order, Studly said, “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”
I almost fell out of my chair. You see, Studly rarely drinks, and when he does, he drinks beer. I felt like I was in an episode of The Twilight Zone. Who was this guy sitting across from me and what had he done with my Studly? I was as close to having an out of body experience as I’ve ever been.
When our drinks arrived at the table I watched carefully as he took one sip, then another. Studly was actually drinking a gin and tonic. What other secrets was he keeping?
The gin and tonic period lasted roughly one summer. I bought limes and good gin and became a regular little bartender. Then abruptly Studly ended his affair with the drink and I watched the limes shrivel. Life was back to normal. I was the drinker and Studly was the sober one.
So for several years now, there have been no surprises. Until today, when I opened up a shopping bag from a local department store and discovered this:
A purple shirt. Studly, my guy who sticks to blacks and grays and greens, bought a purple shirt. Again, I feel like I’m in The Twilight Zone. What’s next? Will he begin reading the classics? Will he start quoting Shakespeare? I’m shaken to my core. God help us.
Peace, people.
None of these things is just like the others.
A ball of twine, an empty souvenir cup, and a fake flower are leaving my life today. I believe the cup and the flower have been taking up space at Doright Manor for four years, having come into my possession on an anniversary trip to the beach.
As for the ball of twine, I haven’t a clue. Had I planned on tying Studly Doright up for sexy shenanigans? Was I going to truss a turkey? It’s a mystery that I doubt will ever be solved.
Some things are better left to the imagination.
Peace, people!
I joined a minimalist challenge group on Facebook. Our goal is to declutter our lives by getting rid of a specific number of items every day in February. On day one, we have to get rid of one item, on day two, two items, and so on. By the end of February each participant will have discarded a total of 424 items. I think. I might’ve forgotten to carry a two in one or more of my calculations. I know there’s a formula that might’ve made the process simpler, but my algebra days are far behind me.
Participants can send items to the trash bin, donate them, or give them to friends as gifts. Additionally, no items that are merely “wants” can be purchased during the month unless an additional four items per want are discarded. There are other rules, but these are the main ones.
Frankly, I’m not sure I have what it takes to complete this challenge. I can see that the first 10 to 15 days will be fairly easy. Just sitting in my recliner next to an end table stacked with papers, magazines, and coupons I can see at least two dozen items that need new homes. I guess if I get stumped for items to dispose of I can send Studly off to live with the gypsies.
Wish me luck. You may all be sick of this before the month is over. I’ll try not to be too obnoxious. Who am I kidding? Obnoxious is my middle name.
Peace, people!
Item #1: a green bath rug is headed to a nearby charity-run thrift store.
Rain interfered with Studly Doright’s Sunday golf game, so he took me to brunch at Southwood Golf Club where Chef Mike makes the world’s greatest egg white omelette. Mine was a fluffy concoction of bacon, onion, tomato, and cheddar cheese that was so light it appeared to float above my plate. Okay, maybe the mimosa I ordered was responsible for the special effects, but it was a stellar meal.
Afterwards we went to see the film Hostiles starring Christian Bale and Rosamund Pike. Ten minutes into the film I turned to Studly and asked, “What in the world have you brought me to see?” The beginning is so brutal I thought I was going to need to leave. But I stayed, and while violence is a main theme of the film, a storyline did develop.
Christian Bale is intense as an Army captain charged with escorting Chief Yellowhawk, played by Wes Studi, and his family to Montana from New Mexico where they’ll be set free after seven years in captivity. Along the way the small band of soldiers and Native Americans face one trial after another, including their encounter with Ms. Pike’s character.
Studly joked on the way home that he wondered if there had been more than four pages of dialogue for the entire film. I told him there was, but it was uttered in such a mumbling fashion that at least two pages could be discounted.
What is it with actors mumbling dialogue? One bearded character was so difficult to understand that I tuned out all of his dialogue. At least let me read his lips, for pity’s sake. If I were grading Hostiles I’d deduct ten points just for the mumbling.
The story was okay. There was nothing new here, as far as I could tell, but I did appreciate the way Bale’s character evolved. The scenery was beautiful and the film felt real. Just don’t go see it if you’re at all squeamish!
Peace, people!
Yesterday I posted about the Happy Painter, aka Janie Roberts, and her shop out at The House of Plywood in Tallahassee’s Railroad Square Art Park. I was specifically looking for a replacement for this piece:
This was the crowning glory of a decorative candle holder my eldest sister-in-law, Lyn, had given me four years ago as a housewarming gift. It fit atop this piece,
and enjoyed a place of prominence on my dining room table. Upon presenting me with the gift Lyn had made just for me, she advised me to avoid picking it up by the top. For three and a half years I was so careful to follow her advice, but one day I moved it without thinking and you see the results above.
I’d tried to describe to Janie at The Happy Painter just what it was I was looking for–a sconce, a globe, a whatsit, but until I took the piece in she wasn’t sure exactly what I meant. The minute she saw it she sent me to another vendor, Chip, who has a wonderful lamp shop in Railroad Square. I’ll do a whole piece on Chip’s shop one of these days. I’m not even sure of the name of the place, but he found me a possible replacement for a reasonable price.
Now I just have to break out the old glass and affix this new whatsit to the wrought iron piece. I’ll get Studly Doright to help me with that. There’ll likely be less bloodshed that way.
So what is the proper name for this? Is it a sconce? A globe? A whatsit?
On Friday I had two appointments in Tallahassee and a big stretch of time between the two. Rather than return to Doright Manor after appointment number one I had lunch at a cafe and then treated myself to a Lemon Cooler cookie from the Cake Shop. Yum! Even then I still had over two hours to kill before appointment number two, so I drove out to Railroad Square Art Park.
Railroad Square is a fun place with all sorts of shops ranging from the relatively bland (a construction company) to the bohemian (an herbalist), and there’s even a great brewery called “Proof.”
Lately I’ve been on a mission to find a couple of specific items, so I went to the fabulously named House of Plywood.
The House of Plywood is an artisans’ craft mall with unique shops lining the breezeway. I’d wandered in before, but today I got no farther than artist Janie Lou Roberts’s shop.
Janie remembered me and what I was in search of from my previous visit several weeks before! For someone like me who can scarcely remember what my husband looks like on a day to day basis (I make him wear a name tag to cut down on the awkwardness), her recall was astounding, and a bit flattering. (Note to self: Really TRY to remember what Studly Doright looks like.)
Janie and I discussed the object I was looking for (I’ll post about this object tomorrow) and she made some more suggestions as to where I might find one. Then I took time to look around Janie’s shop–“The Happy Painter and Furniture Studio.”
Janie paints happy paintings. I didn’t take pictures because I wasn’t thinking. That’s not uncommon in my life. But Janie’s paintings are vivid and engaging. She painted one of a pair of sunflowers that made me think of a sunshiny, floral American Gothic. I could find it on her page, but this is her profile picture from Janie’s Facebook page:
Here another of Janie from Facebook:
In addition to happy paintings, Janie sells books, small pieces of furniture, and all sorts of little accessories. Even better, she’s a genuinely nice person, and if she doesn’t have what you’re looking for, she’ll point you in the right direction.
(I receive no compensation for this post. I just want people to check out Janie and her business.)
Peace, people!
Doright Manor, where I reside with my husband, Studly Doright, is in a rural housing development about eight miles west of Tallahassee, Florida. We have a Havana, FL, address, but we’re geographically closer to the town of Quincy.
Typically when I shop I head to Tallahassee, with Havana being my second choice, but on Wednesday I needed something small (eye liner) and decided to see if I could find it in Quincy at the CVS. Sure enough they had what I wanted and much too soon I was driving home.
Quincy is the county seat, so I drove around the courthouse square to see if there was anything of interest. I noticed a business I hadn’t seen on any of my previous visits. Could it be an antique/junk shop? It was! Be still my heart!
My photos aren’t great, but the shop is. It’s called The Junktion and it’s been open for a couple of months. The delightful owner, (whose name I’ve forgotten thanks to my advanced age) is still sorting through things and she has some treasures.
I couldn’t quite keep myself out of the photo above. It is always all about me anyway.
And the owner is in this one above. She is adorable and has big plans for her shop. The photos, as I said, aren’t great, but the shop is.
Just next door to The Junktion is the Gadsden Arts Center. I wasn’t in any hurry to go home, so I popped in there for bit.
I’d never taken the time to properly stroll through the galleries of the arts center, having in the past merely popped in for directions or to ask a question, but now after spending some time there I realize that the Gadsden Arts Center is a real gem. In addition to the galleries, the center is adding a gift shop, and they offer classes and studio time. I’m not much of an artist, but it would be fun to take a class.
http://gadsdenarts.org/exhibitions.aspx
I definitely need to spend more time in Quincy.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 