Tag: Studly Doright

On The Road My Friends

At some point this morning I will have departed from Doright Manor to take a trip of epic, dare I say Odyssean, proportions. Having packed my bags with everything from winter boots and a parka to capris pants and flip flops I should surely be prepared for any eventuality.

My first destination is a point north of Nashville, Tennessee, for an overnight stay. From there I’m bound for our daughter’s home in Rapids City, Illinois, where I will be baby sitter-in-chief for my daughter’s three children while the parents go to cavort in the bright sun of a Mexican beach.

  
  
After a week in Illinois I’ll head south to the Texas panhandle, the place that no matter where on earth I roam will always be home. I’ll stay with the lovely Saint Helen who gave birth to Studly Doright and hopefully get to commune with the rest of the panhandle-dwelling Noyes bunch. 

  
Once they’ve chased me out of town with torches and pitchforks I’m off to Dallas to spend a night with our son if we can get our schedules to sync. Then it’s on to Houston, that most intimidating city, for a couple of nights with the oldest of my two younger brothers and his wife. They’re taking me and Studly’s eldest (she’d say prettiest) sister to a big event. I’m sure I’ll blog about it afterwards. If I’m still capable, that is. 

  
  
I have another event in mind for the Houston stay, but I’ll save that for another post, as well. 

When my brother finally kicks me out of his home I’ll begin working my way back to Doright Manor. Somewhere on that stretch of road is a wonderful little outlet mall that’s been calling my name for awhile now.

  
I’ve been writing like a mad woman to stock my blog with pieces to post daily during my trip. I’m sure there will be times I can post something from the road, but just in case I can’t, the blog must, and will, go on! 

Any prayers, blessings, positive thoughts, etc., offered up for my safe travels will be greatly appreciated. And as always, peace, people.

Taking the Plunge

Studly Doright took me out for dinner last night for an early Valentine’s Day celebration. He also bought me a bouquet of tulips in a box. You know, the kind you have to assemble yourself?

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore receiving flowers, but part of the romance is lost if I have to cut the stems, pull the leaves, and mix up that floral cocaine that keeps the flowers fresh. So this year I said, “Thanks, hon. Now you make ’em pretty for me.”

And miracle of miracles, he did! I know I’ll need to do a little fine tuning here and there, but at least he took the plunge. And that’s the definition of love. Taking plunges. 

 

Ok, he isn’t going to make a living arranging flowers, but Studly did this for me!
 
When Studly asked me out on our first date, he took a big, scary plunge. For all he knew I’d turn him down cold, yet still he asked.

Our first kiss was a plunge. I’m not sure which of us initiated the touching of lips to lips, but it was pure bliss and it was the moment I realized I might already be falling in love with this crazy, funny, smart(ass) boy.

And even though Studly was 99.9% sure I’d answer yes when he asked if I would marry him, that, too was a plunge.

Studly and I have been wed for almost four decades, and we’re still taking plunges. We plunged in head first on having children. Every one of our cross country moves has been a plunge. It’s been a veritable plunge-a-thon! 

With any luck, the biggest ones are behind us. But those little ones, like watching my big, handsome man arranging my bouquet of flowers, I hope we have many more of those.

Peace, and Happy Valentine’s Day, people!

Revisit? I Think Not

Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Never Again

Have you ever gone to a new place or tried a new experience and thought to yourself, “I’m never doing that again!” Tell us about it.

Last year Studly Doright and I accompanied friends to a contra dance. Here’s that tale:

http://wp.me/p4O8fw-Gm

Habit, Just Saying

Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Quirk of Habit

Which quirky habit annoys you the most, and what quirky habit do you love — in yourself, or other people?

Some things just annoy the heck out of me, but because I am polite and civilized I never call people out on these niggling bits. Okay, every now and then I might say something like, “Are you a freaking idiot?” That’s polite, right?

There are two verbal tics that make me clench my jaw and grind my teeth. The first is the insertion of the phrase, “you know” into every sentence–sometimes multiple times. 

Example: I was, you know, going to, you know, buy a new brassiere, but, you know, they’re just too, you know, expensive.”

You might think I’m exaggerating, but my college roommate was a world champion “you knower.” I found myself copying her speech pattern and flipping “you knows” about like pieces of confetti. When I realized what I’d done I had a long talk with myself and banned the phrase from my vocabulary. You know, I’ve been fairly, you know, successful. 

The other thing that drives me crazy is hearing people, most often women, order their food in a restaurant by saying, “Could I have…?” Even if I don’t know the person, even if she is sitting two tables over I want to leap up and say, “It’s on the damned menu! Of COURSE you can have it.” 

Instead I say a silent curse at whatever cultural practice makes women think they have to ask for permission to order something that is clearly available for purchase. It’s the same as our reflexive “I’m sorry” for things that aren’t our fault. I’m guilty of that one, lest you think me perfect. And I am so sorry.

http://videos.nymag.com/video/Inside-Amy-Schumer-I-m-Sorry
Quirky habits I love? That’s a little more difficult. I love the way Studly Doright can fall asleep and begin snoring softly the minute he closes his eyes. Of course sometimes this habit falls into the annoying category if I’m unable to join him in slumber within five minutes.

Another habit I love is one found in those people who are so filled with gratitude that “thank you,” in many different forms has become habit. My friend LeeAnn is one of these people. Her conversation is peppered with sincere expressions of gratitude, “How kind!” “What a blessing!” and, “I’m so thankful.”

Likewise my friend Janie has made a habit of finding the good in every situation. She calls herself a “lucky, lucky girl” and she makes everyone else more observant of the good in their own lives.

I’m sorry, but I’m just not good at being thankful, you know. Sorry. You know, I’m working on it.  

 

From the book, Nuns Just Wanna Have Fun.
 
Peace, people!

Lone Star Cuisine

Written in response to The Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Live to Eat

Some people eat to live, while others live to eat. What about you? How far would you travel for the best meal of your life?

I’m a Texan by birth, and even though I haven’t lived in the Lone Star State in well over two decades I still crave a couple of foods that just have no peers anywhere else on the planet.

The first is a chicken fried steak. 

 While one can order a chicken fried steak outside of Texas there is some undefinable attribute that is missing when this dish is served elsewhere. I am actually capable of making this comfort food, but making good gravy is not my forté. 

The other food I must travel to Texas to enjoy is chili Relleños. I’ve had Relleños served a hundred different ways, but in Texas the product is fairly consistent.

  
I’ve never attempted to make Relleños. Studly Doright doesn’t like them, so it seems a bit wasteful to cook them just for me. 

The question posed by the daily prompt was how far I’d need to travel to partake of my favorite foods. Thanks to Google, the answer is just a click away.

  
In ten hours or less I could be at my middle brother’s home in Houston. That’s totally doable. Start the car.

Peace, People!

Laughter, the Best Medicine?

Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt:

Roaring Laughter

What was the last thing that gave you a real, authentic, tearful, hearty belly laugh? Why was it so funny?

Not this past Christmas, but the one before, Studly Doright and I met our kids and grandkids in Nashville, Tennessee, for the holiday. Our son and his family live in Texas. Our daughter and her family reside in Illinois. Studly and I are in Florida, so it’s a treat when we can all be together.

Rather than stay in a hotel we rented a home for the week, and made it into a temporary Doright Manor. We had a first rate time cooking and eating and playing games with the grown kids and grandkids. 

One night, though, we sat the kids down in front of a movie in one room while in another the grownups played the game Cards Against Humanity. There might have been a bit of drinking involved. And by a bit, I mean copious amounts of liquor were consumed.

Our son-in-law, Stephen, having moonlighted as a bartender, knows how to mix a drink and soon had us all giggling like school children even before we started playing the game. Then the competition began.

Now if you’ve never played Cards Against Humanity you have no idea what you’re missing out on. I laughed so hard that tears rolled down my face–deep, strong belly laughs that caused my jaws and cheeks to ache well into the next week. 

 If laughter truly was the best medicine the Doright family could have cured every disease known to man that week. Instead, we just had a wicked good time.

Peace, people!


Caution–the game is not for the easily offended. There are references to body parts and bodily functions that aren’t often mentioned in polite company. Of course Studly and I never were much for polite company.

Another Saturday Night

Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: 

Tell us about the most exciting big night out you’ve had lately.

Life at Doright Manor is tame. Generally, a big night around here involves watching an extra episode of Ray Donovan while splurging calories on a second Shiner Bock.

Yet once a month we head to Studly Doright’s golf club for a rousing night of trivia competition. I know, a lot of readers will be jealous, as they should be. You see, in addition to the trivia, there is music, great food, and just enough wine to make me feel like a wittier, prettier person. And, I’m not bragging, sometimes we even stay up past midnight!

January’s event was especially fun because our friends from Indiana were in town and we dragged, er, invited them to go with us. I don’t know about them, but I had a blast. We didn’t win the competition, but we didn’t come in dead last either. 

I’m certain today’s prompt was written specifically to demonstrate what a lackluster life I live. Gee, thanks WordPress.

Peace, people!

A little Cat Stevens for your entertainment (following the dadgum ad)

http://youtu.be/aLeWB3C2cLo
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/saturday-night/”>Saturday Night</a>

Fit for a King

“You made your bed, now lie in it!”

Our mattress has seen better days. We bought it back when George W. Bush was President and his brother Jeb!, was governor of Florida, just to give you an idea of its advanced age. The darned thing is dished out and lumped up, and fails to provide comfortable support for more than ten minutes at a time. 

When Studly and I returned to Florida after eight years in Illinois, we planned on  buying a new bed, but decided to first buy a home and get settled. After the home was purchased Studly built his dream workshop/garage. Then we added a roof to our back porch and screened it in. The bed just kept being shoved into the background.

Last night I stayed up late watching back to back Naked and Afraid episodes and thinking about beds. Specifically I thought, “Every one of those naked people would kill to have my awful bed for a night.”

  
But I am not one of those naked people, dammit! 

The saddest thing is that we have two guest bedrooms. Both have really great, relatively new, pillow top mattresses. But one is a full sized bed and the other a queen. Studly Doright and I share a king sized bed. Ah, the American way!

Occasionally I’ll declare that I’m sleeping in one of the guest rooms, but then Studly makes these pathetically sweet puppy dog faces, and I realize I’d rather sleep uncomfortably with my king than comfortably without him.

I am making a big push for that new mattress, and am engaged in thorough research. I’ve studied Consumer Reports, solicited advice and suggestions from friends, and taken field trips into every mattress store in the greater Tallahassee area. I didn’t put this much effort into choosing my wedding gown.

  
With any luck, and by luck I mean a nice annual bonus, we will get a new mattress this year. If not, I might have to sign up as a contestant on Naked and Afraid.  Anything for a good night’s sleep.

A New Arrangement

A few weeks ago, Studly Doright and I spent all afternoon moving furniture from one end of Doright Manor to the other. 

When we moved in nearly two years ago I made an error in measuring our guest bedrooms. Ok, let’s be honest, I didn’t bother measuring, and one of the bedrooms ended up being cramped and claustrophobic, while the other felt cavernous. With two sets of company coming for a long weekend, we decided to right that wrong.

One set of bedroom furniture is antique and fragile. It belonged to my grandmother, and even though I’m sometimes tempted to sell it I just can’t bring myself to part with it. While the headboard and footboard are massive the bed is a small full size and barely allows one adult to sleep comfortably. 

   
 
The other set is fairly new, acquired when my dad lived with us. The queen sized bed and armoire are nothing fancy, but the mattress is top notch. I’ve dubbed it, The Texas Bedroom, and it holds my go-to bed when Studly’s snoring passes the merely annoying stage and heads into the sonic torture realm.

   
 
The moving process from one end of the house to another was tricky, in that one room would need to be completely empty before the other furniture could be moved down this hallway:

  
Studly, a self-proclaimed master of both logistics and wiseassery carefully studied the necessary steps for a week before finally declaring, “Well, this is gonna suck.”

It did indeed suck. Neither Studly nor I are young any more, and that antique bedroom set is both heavy and unwieldy. Add fragile into the mix and we had ourselves quite an afternoon of gently persuading the pieces to hold together while we balanced them precariously on moving dollies. At the end of the day copious amounts of both wood glue and Ben-Gay were involved.

The results, though, were pleasing. The beds are much better suited to their respective rooms, and I am a happy camper. And in the end, isn’t my happiness what it’s all about?

Peace, people! 

Snow Warning

On Saturday night a light snow fell near Havana, Florida. I looked out the window and told Studly Doright that I saw white flakes fluttering on the breeze, but he was too busy polishing his golf clubs to get up and look for himself. He didn’t see snow; ergo, it did not snow.

When he returned home from playing golf on Sunday afternoon his first words were, “Hey, did you know it snowed here last night?”

I swear, one of these days that man is going to wish he’d paid attention to me!

 

Someone must have given this guy a lift to our neck of the woods.

The best thing about Florida living is that cold snaps are invariably followed by warm, sunny days.

  
And that’s just the way we like it.

Peace, people!