Tag: Studly Doright

Forest Storm

Skies darken, winds howl

Acorns fall before raindrops

Squirrels take cover

Deep blue framed window

Mute witness across the lake

Watch the storm with me

Thunder fills the gap

After expectant silence

Lightning left behind

I sat on the screened in porch yesterday afternoon as a storm moved in over the lake. The blue window in the middle picture took on the appearance of a face when I looked at it closely. Then, the bottom photo has a somewhat sinister appearance. See if you can find what I’m talking about. It freaked me out a bit.

Oh, and as I finished typing that last bit we had a very close lightning strike followed by an instant house-rattling clap of thunder. Scout (our cat) and I made a hasty retreat into the house. Whew!

Peace, people!

Accidental Beer

I like beer, but I normally don’t have one with my lunch. Yesterday I did, but it was an accident.

Studly Doright has me confined to the house as we await the delivery of a generator.

“When it arrives,” Studly said, referring to the generator. “Have them put it in the garage.”

“When do you expect this generator to be delivered?” I inquired.

“Oh, sometime this week.”

I waited all day Monday, finding ways to keep busy around Doright Manor. Tuesday went the same way. Wednesday came and went with no generator in sight.

I’m a restless soul. I drive into Tallahassee or Havana on most days just to explore or shop or mingle with strangers in coffee shops and cafés. So to be stuck at Doright Manor, as lovely as it is, for three straight days has been like a weird purgatory. I’m comfortable and well fed, but I’m going slightly crazy.

Yesterday at noon while awaiting the generator’s arrival I decided to eat one of the tuna salad kits I’d purchased as part of my Hurricane Irma supplies. Since the salad only had 200 calories I figured I could have a Virgil’s brand root beer to accompany my meal.

I opened the bottle and took my lunch into the den where I settled into my favorite chair to enjoy Rachael Ray’s television program as I dined. The tuna was decent; although, not up to my own homemade tuna salad, but the root beer tasted off. I thought perhaps that tuna and root beer might not be compatible tastes, but I kept eating and drinking.

It was only when I thought to check the caloric content of the root beer that I realized I was drinking an actual beer (Smithwick’s) and not a Virgil’s. Boy, did I feel like a complete idiot!

Much is written these days about a mindful approach to living. Maybe I should start paying attention.

In my defense, both drinks were packaged in bottles….

Sunday Post-Irma

Okay, I promised no more posts about Hurricane Irma, but that was before I had to go help Studly Doright clean up after her. Don’t you just detest having guests who wreck the place?

She sheared off one of our smaller oak trees, so Studly set off with his trusty chain saw to cut the tree into pieces small enough to suit our trash pickup guys.

We loaded everything into our little trailer and I delivered the branches to the curb area. We don’t actually have curbs out here, but if we did that’s where the processed branches would be.

We left the small stump. It looks like a potential home for fairies to me.

We really are fortunate that more trees weren’t lost during Irma’s visit. She wasn’t a great houseguest, but she could’ve been much worse.

Peace, people.

On Being Nana

I wasn’t always Nana. Once upon a time I was plain old Leslie, occasionally “honey” or whatever endearment

Came immediately to Studly’s tongue. But by far, Nana is the best name I’ve ever been given. Fifteen years ago this week,

Nana was born when a beautiful, round faced baby girl was placed in my arms. Her wide blue eyes connected with my own

Amazed brown ones, and I have been forever changed. I might have once been ordinary, but now I am Nana.

Happy 15th birthday to our eldest grandchild, Dominique Grace. I meant to post this on Wednesday, but never changed the post from “draft” to “scheduled.”

Farewell Irma

Doright Manor sailed through the rigors of Hurricane Irma with flying colors. Granted, by the time Irma reached our neighborhood outside of Tallahassee, Florida, she’d been relegated to the rank of tropical depression, so we experienced a markedly weakened storm compared to our neighbors in south Florida.

Studly Doright and I only had to deal with a loss of electricity for roughly twelve hours on Monday. As soon as I heard the click signaling a return of power I raced Studly down the long hallway from the den to our bedroom and claimed the shower before he had even registered that we were officially back on the grid. Score one for Nana!

Studly worked from home all day, coordinating his workforce to assist one another in getting roofs repaired and trees cleared, as well as determining who needed generators and fuel. I got a little emotional listening to these good folks detailing what damages their properties had sustained and always reluctantly agreeing to accept assistance. A special team will be deployed to go help out employees in the hardest hit areas so they in turn can better serve their respective communities.

When the weather cleared this afternoon, but before we had our power restored, Studly and I drove into Tallahassee and checked on his office. We were pleased to find the electricity working there, so we charged our phones and got a cold drink from the refrigerator. On our way back to Doright Manor we had to pull over for a convoy of utility repair vehicles from an adjoining state. Again I choked up thinking about those people who go out in inclement weather to keep us going.

Thanks again to everyone who said a prayer or sent positive vibes or just took a moment to think about us as we waited for, and then endured the storm. Hopefully I’m through with hurricane stories this year! Farewell Irma! I’m having a Smithwick’s straight from a fully functioning fridge in honor of her departure.

Peace, people.

Not that Desperate

Doright Manor where I reside with my husband of forty one years, is in a rural neighborhood about ten miles west of Tallahassee, Florida. We have a Havana, FL, address, but we are only slightly farther from Tallahassee than we are from the little town of Havana. On most days I drive into Tallahassee at least once to walk, shop, or sometimes to take in a movie.

The knowledge that Hurricane Irma will hit near us early next week has me feeling antsy, and even though I’ve already shopped for supplies I began to worry that I might have forgotten something. So yesterday I drove over to see the movie “It!” and followed up with a trip to a Publix grocery store.

My hope was that I could purchase some canned meat meals, such as tuna or chicken with crackers and mayonnaise, that require no refrigeration. I’d looked a couple of days ago, but the store was completely out of those items. The clerks thought they’d get some more in before the storm, so I deemed it worth a trip.

Here is what the canned meat aisle looked like:

I wasn’t even a little bit tempted by these delicacies:

Canned squid! Who knew? I just know I’m not that desperate.

The store was busy, but the mood was generally buoyant, even though now it looks as if Tallahassee will get a bigger piece of the storm than was previously predicted.

Studly Doright and I still aren’t sure if we’ll evacuate ahead of Irma. I’m leaving the decision up to him. I call him Studly Doright for a reason, so I’m in his capable hands.

Please send good vibes out to all those in the direct path of the storm, especially to one of my British blogging friends and her husband who are vacationing in Florida. They had to evacuate the Keys and may have to go to a shelter in Miami if their hotel has to be vacated.

Thanks for reading. I have absolutely the best followers. Peace, people.

Hurricane Watch, September 2017

Irma is coming, and she’s nobody’s favorite aunt. We’re watching her closely here at Doright Manor in Havana, Florida, and contemplating our options.

A Facebook friend from Melbourne, FL, sent me a link to a weather website that allows one to view a storm’s projected path and wind speeds in three hour increments.

ventusky.com

Just type in a location and the animated map will indicate when that area might be impacted and how long residents might be dealing with the brunt of the storm.

Below is the projection for Havana from late Sunday to early on Monday:

Pretty cool, huh? Of course these are all still projections.

If Irma had a heart she’d just dissipate and go frolic as some lighthearted waves in the Atlantic. Go away Irma! We have nothing you need!

Be prepared and stay safe!

Peace, people.

Laundry

Normally I take on the task of doing our laundry on Mondays. With just two of us in the house these day the once dreaded and seemingly unending chore now only requires a couple of hours of my time. I actually enjoy doing laundry now.

Studly Doright did quite a bit of traveling this past week, both for work and recreation, so he dumped a suitcase full of dirty clothes on the bathroom floor this Sunday morning and then asked if I’d mind doing laundry this afternoon.

“No, I don’t mind at all,” I said. “But why do you need for me to do laundry today?”

“I’m changing my name to Laundry,” he quipped and ducked out the door before I could throw something at him.

Newlywed Sandwich

My husband, Studly Doright, enjoys recalling our early days of matrimony when his young bride (me) tried to settle into the life of a domestic goddess. Studly was a hard working young man, in a blue collar job with a natural gas company, and I was clueless.

On Studly’s first day back to work after our honeymoon, I arose early to prepare his lunch. I’d never prepared a lunch for anyone other than myself, but how hard could it be? I spread two slices of white bread with a smear of mayonnaise, a piece of bologna, a bright yellow square of American cheese, and added a baggie filled with Studly’s favorite Cheetos. I was pleased with the way his lunch looked as I loaded his manly lunch pail and sent him to work with a smile and a kiss.

When my husband came home from work that afternoon he politely told me that his lunch wasn’t quite big enough. So, on day two of making his lunch I put not one, but two pieces of bologna on his bread and added a few more Cheetos to the baggie. Again, I admired the way his lunch looked and sent him on his way with a sweet smile and a kiss.

Studly came home from work that afternoon, took me by the hand, looked me in the eye and said, “Honey, I’m going to make my own lunches from now on.”

Apparently I was starving him to death. Even forty-one years after those first days of marriage Studly remembers how he almost cried upon seeing how paltry his lunch looked. I’d like to think I’d do better now, but he’s not taking any chances.

Thanks to https://nonsmokingladybug.wordpress.com/ for the inspiration for this post.

Not Going to Complain

Driving home to Doright Manor from a shopping expedition to nearby Tallahassee my car began to be pelted by a storm of love bugs. Within just a couple of miles of home I experienced limited visibility due to the amount of bug guts on my windshield. I began mumbling all sorts of nasty aspersions on these bugs, their offspring, and their offspring’s offspring. My rant became pretty colorful.

Then I realized that I was driving on dry pavement and that I’d have electricity and air conditioning and hot water waiting for me at home. I was pretty certain my roof would be intact and my floors uncluttered by flood debris, so I shut my mouth. Many of my friends and family members in the Houston, Texas, area are dealing with what’s being called the biggest weather catastrophe in Texas’ history, and they have none of the amenities I take for granted.

Studly Doright and I have firsthand experience with hurricanes and their aftermath. We know how it feels to be without power for days, how isolating and scary it can be, but we have never experienced what these folks in Houston are dealing with. So if I have to deal with a few love bugs, so be it. I won’t be complaining.

If you’d like to help those in Houston, here’s a link to the Red Cross. https://www.redcross.org/donate/hurricane-harvey?scode=RSG00000E017&utm_campaign=Harvey&gclid=Cj0KCQjw_o7NBRDgARIsAKvAgt3pGGD9qntAtz_SL6RdN7hu8F4u44fn3xna5pet211SoX2c6zS0-uwaAl9mEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds&dclid=CJOSm8vo-tUCFSZmwQodlYgKkw

Prayers are appreciated, as well. Peace, people.