Tag: Studly Doright

Easy Livin’

Our covered, screened-in porch is the perfect place to relax on a mild November evening. There’s a family celebration in full force across the lake, fairy lights and lilting voices twinkling on the calm water.

  
I’m sipping a Shock Top Raspberry Wheat Ale and tapping my toes in time with the guitar music drifting across the pond. Whoever’s playing isn’t very adept at their craft, but they’re quite enthusiastic. I like that in my musicians.

The man I adore, Studly Doright, is inside the house heating leftovers from yesterday’s Thanksgiving Day meal. I’m not a bit hungry, having already eaten two pieces of pecan pie, an avocado, bacon, and cheese omelet, and a ham sandwich today. The ale is my dessert. 

Life is good here at Doright Manor. There’s a black and white cat winding around my ankles and a black cat snuggled down for a nap in the chair next to me. No, it’s not an exciting life, but it is filled with peace and love.

  
Peace, people.

The Day Before Thanksgiving

Studly Doright, the love of my life, is a bit of a horse trader. He doesn’t trade actual horses (dear Studly harbors an unnatural fear of farm animals, large and small); instead, he trades cars, trucks, motorcycles, basically anything that is motorized transportation.

On Tuesday he informed me that he’d bought a pickup truck. I nodded and smiled. “And, by the way,” he said casually, “We have to pick it up on Wednesday.”

Again, I nodded, like the dullard I must be.

Studly cleared his throat and I looked at him expectantly. “Um, it’s in Orlando….”

Normally a proposed trip to Orlando would have me jumping up and down like a small child. Universal Studios, DisneyWorld, tacky souvenirs, oh joy! But on the day before we are to host a Thanksgiving meal in our home? Nooooooooooo! For one thing  I knew there’d be no dawdling. We’d drive four hours south, in holiday traffic mind you, then turn around and drive four hours back to Doright Manor. But I had no choice. Studly can be an awful bully, I mean, awfully persuasive. 

The trip down was enjoyable. In addition to his gifts in persuasion Studly is always entertaining. Once again we drove right by the Cafe Risqué, Florida’s all nude cafe, even though we have a series of running jokes about what’s on the menu. Trust me, you don’t want to know the jokes. 

Traffic was interesting. One seriously aggressive driver came lane surfing around us, easily going 20 m.p.h. above our rather sedate 75. (Speed limit was 70.) As we neared Orlando we passed her after she’d hit another car. I’d have cheered, but she ruined someone else’s weekend. 

Once we arrived at the car dealership Studly took a test drive while I stretched my legs and looked at cars. The dealership had a gorgeous red BMW convertible that could’ve come home with me if I had just a few more (thousand) dollars in my bank account. After he returned, smiling like an idiot, Studly told me I could start for home while he finished making the deal.

I’ve officially been home now for an hour, and put together another pecan pie that should be done in 10-15 minutes. Studly got caught in a holiday traffic jam on the turnpike. I’m enjoying a Shiner Bock and the Thanksgiving classic Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. Studly is probably cursing at rude drivers. Who knows, he might actually get to check out the menu at Cafe Risqué.

  
Peace, people!

Cooking for Studly: Special Thanksgiving Edition

Just when I think I can’t come up with a new way to screw up a meal I manage to surprise myself. Yesterday, I prepared the cornbread for our Thanksgiving dressing. I’ve made hundreds of batches of cornbread over the years, maybe even thousands. It’s pretty much a no-brainer at this point. Bwahaha!

This year I decided to make my cornbread from scratch rather than use one of the handy dandy mixes on the market. And because I’d rather have too much cornbread than too little, I doubled the recipe. Or I thought I did. 

1 1/3 cups of milk? No problem, that’ll be 2 and 2/3 cups.

1 large egg? Easy breezy: 2 eggs.

1/4 cup oil? A little tougher, but my superior mathematics skills came up with 1/2 cup.

So tell me why, when I went to add the cornmeal and sugar I didn’t double those ingredients?

And tell me why I didn’t notice that my batter was a bit on the watery side?

The result was a soufleé-ish concoction with a lovely aroma and squishy texture. I tasted it. Kind of yummy, but not at all suitable for cornbread dressing.

  
So, back to the cupboards for another try. I didn’t double anything this time, mostly because that would’ve meant a trip to the supermarket.

  
It might look a little overdone to some of you, but we like our dressing made from cornbread that is a bit on the dry side. At least that’s what I’ll tell everyone. Just in case, I have a packet of Martha White cornbread mix that I can put to good use.

  
This Thanksgiving I’m thankful for convenience.

Peace, people!

Slow Boat to Anywhere

  

i’d like to have you,
on a slow boat tonight
down a lazy river or
any port feels right.

whisper through wee hours
give into rhythm’s waves,
rock each other gently
and stay afloat for days.

far from shore we’d sail
then shelter in the cove,
skyclad ‘neath the stars
clothed in naught, save love.

  
Now, lest anyone think I was feeling amorous when I wrote this nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve got some sort of stomach bug, and I am doing my best to keep from being sick. Poor Studly Doright. 

Peace, people.

Walmart Proposal or Finally Hitting the Big Time

Studly Doright and I have been married for more than 39 years now. I know what you’re thinking, “Man, that Studly is one lucky son of a gun.” And you’d be right. Apparently, I’m a heckuva catch. 

Just this afternoon at Walmart a young man on the pet food aisle chatted me up about my cats and made additional small talk before asking, “So, are you married?” 

I blinked rapidly several times and then in a too loud voice responded, “Yep! Yep! Old and married.”

“Too bad,” he responded and sauntered away. 

He wasn’t my type. The saggy, baggy jeans were a deal breaker. Well, that and the “I look like I just got out of jail” vibe he was putting out. Still, if Studly ever forgets just how lucky he is, I have at least one prospect.

Note: My Walmart beau looked a lot better than any of these guys:

 

Is this the legendary Camo Fairy?
  
Barney called. He wants his suit back.
  
Don’t you wish your boyfriend was hot like me?
  
Gary had a little lamb.
 Peace, people!

Conundrum

I roused myself from bed fairly early Monday morning, showered, drank a couple of cups of coffee, and did my best to look presentable before leaving Doright Manor on a minor shopping expedition. On most days my efforts at self beautification are wasted, and I leave the house looking, at best, like a third generation homeless woman on a epically bad day. 

On this Monday, though, the stars were aligned, the makeup gods full of good will, and I looked really good for a 59-year-old grandmother. Dare I say I was glowing? I blew myself a goodbye kiss in the mirror and took off in search of items Studly Doright wanted for his new diet. (More on that in a future post–if I don’t kill him first.)

 

No, this isn’t me, but if you squint and pretend then it’s almost me.
 
While pushing a cart around Whole Foods I stooped to pick up a can of cranberry sauce from a bottom shelf and felt my back suddenly go “squitch!” I winced in pain and attempted to stand up in the throes of a full blown muscle spasm. Abandoning the cranberry sauce I crab walked to the checkout and paid for the things in my basket. 
 
Again, not me.
 
My face must have reflected the squitching going on in my lumbar region because the lovely young cashier found someone to carry my groceries to the car for me. Truly sometimes age and its accompanying pains have their perks. 

Once in the car I thought in my practical self voice, “Go have a massage.”

My vain self answered, “But, but, your makeup looks so good today! You know that only happens once ever decade or so.”

For a heartbeat I listened to my vain self. Thank goodness I decided to go with practical me, but for a heartbeat I was faced with the ultimate conundrum: Is it better to feel good or to look good? In a perfect world I could do both.

 

This is what I think I look like when getting a massage.

 
This comes closer to the truth.
  
Peace, people!

Nothing to Say

  

I had nothing to say today

So I’m not going to say it.

Of course if I’m being honest

I’ve already said something.

Dadgum it’s hard for me,

This wordless disposition.

I’m sure it’s a temporary

State of my current condition.

I was listening to NPR’s TED talks series on Sunday. The main story that morning was about a man who decided to stop talking for one day. That one day turned into twelve years. I couldn’t imagine going without speaking for ten minutes unless I was sleeping. But twelve years? 

When I commented on this to Studly Doright he smiled politely and said, “I’d sure like to see you try.”

I’m not sure how I should take that.  

  
Peace, people!

Colquitt Silos

Yesterday I posted photos of the murals in downtown Colquitt, Georgia. Those murals pale in comparison to the silo murals in this small Georgia town.

Neither Saint Helen nor I claim to be professional photographers, and our only cameras are on our iPhones. Hopefully, though, our photos will convey at least an idea of the scope and beauty of these larger than life works of art:

   
    
   
Every crop grown in the area surrounding Colquitt is depicted on the silos.

We stopped in at the Colquitt Chamber of Commerce before heading downtown, and the women there were full of lively conversation and helpful information. In a future post I’ll share the town’s Cotton Hall Theatre schedule. I’m hoping that Studly Doright and I can attend one of their Swamp Gravy performances in the near future.

Peace, people!

Kitten Cuddling

I missed my last two sessions of kitten cuddling at Tallahassee Animal Services due to our Texas vacation. I was a little concerned that I’d lost my ability to cuddle kittens, but my fears were ungrounded. Kitten cuddling might be my true calling. Studly Doright wishes it was a more lucrative calling; I maintain that happy kittens are reward enough.

This past weekend there was a big adoption event at the shelter, so there were only ten or so kittens available. Once I changed out all the litter boxes and made sure all the felines had fresh food there was plenty of time to play with cats.

This kitten is approximately 4 months old. Her hobbies are purring and snuggling with available humans. The shelter staff named her Sasha Fierce, but I think she should be ‘Stache:

  
Summer, pictured below, is a demure little lady. She is extremely gentle and has a classy attitude.  
Franco, is fond of being petted. One might say he is addicted to love. 

  
Go check out the online kennel at http://www.talgov.com. And remember, don’t shop, ADOPT!

Peace, people!

Dr. Phil and the Philanderers

  
I seldom watch Dr. Phil, but when I do it seems the episode always deals with someone cheating on his or her spouse/significant other. Surely his program deals with other topics, but I only get to see the philanderers. 

Today’s show featured a woman who is cheating on her husband with an old high school flame. I found myself wondering why the husband doesn’t just say “adios, babe!” before riding off into the sunset. Likewise, her boyfriend seems to be waiting on the woman to make up her mind.

I’m not going to weigh in on the morality of the situation, I just wonder how a woman manages to get not one, but two men doing what she wants. Amazing. I can’t get mine to take out the trash.

Dr. Phil, can you help?

  
Gee, thanks!

Peace, people!