A Little Light Reading

Digestive problems are sapping my energy and creativity, not that I had immense reserves of either prior to becoming ill. And, yes, I’m a bit of a wimp with tendencies towards hypochondria and hyperbole, but I’m also a curious wimp, so I ordered a book from Amazon to help me address the issues plaguing me.

Until I am able to go through diagnostic testing I’m supposed to follow a Low-FODMAP diet. When I looked that term up on the internet I just got lists of foods that were either low or high FODMAP. The acronym stands for Fermentable Oligo-Di, Mono-saccharides And Polyols. Simply put, FODMAPs are a type of carbohydrates not easily processed by some people.

The book suggests eating only low-FODMAP foods for a full seven days before slowly introducing foods on the high-FODMAP list back into one’s diet. Fortunately I’ve never been a picky eater, so I should be able to follow the prescribed diet fairly easily. The biggest bummer is that I can’t have yogurt for 7 days.

I felt really good today (Saturday). I even ventured out to some garage sales in Tallahassee while Studly Doright played golf. I bought a book on writing to replace the copy I lost several moves ago and a pretty glass dish because I liked the way the sun shone through it.

It’s been a good day at Doright Manor.

Peace, people.

Seeing Red

I might’ve been in danger of being the star of one of those viral videos last week. You know the ones I’m talking about–where an older person is caught angrily shaking his or her fist at a young whippersnapper. Oh, I was the older person in this scenario, by the way.

The morning didn’t start with me being cranky. In search of something, anything, to knock out my allergy symptoms, I’d gone to Lucky’s Market in Tallahassee to see what interesting natural remedies I might find. While I didn’t locate any products that claimed to make me well, I did buy some really great organic cookies. Surely they had some medicinal value.

After paying for my cookies I decided to walk to Newk’s for lunch. Being careful to check for traffic, I set off across the parking lot, first making a quick stop at my car to drop off the cookies. As I stepped away from my car another vehicle came speeding through with no regard for pedestrian traffic. The driver narrowly missed hitting a sweet elderly woman, okay, it was me, when he made a sharp right turn into a parking space.

I was livid. I yelled, “Slow down, you bladder head. This is a freaking parking lot not a race track!” I might’ve literally shaken my fist at him.

That’s when the driver seemed to think better of parking in that spot and drove away. Although my heart was racing, I realized I probably looked a little crazy standing there. I also realized that perhaps I’d overreacted and might’ve even put myself in danger. After all, I do live in Florida. I have no excuse for my behavior, but hopefully I’ll think twice before erupting again in a state where every Tom, Dick, and Harriet seems to own a gun.

Perhaps I’ll take up meditation.

Peace(!), people!

What’s Up With January?

Does anyone besides me feel like this January has been the longest on record? I honestly thought we’d already crossed into February territory last week.

I had driven across Tallahassee to treat my bracelet to its biannual checkup and cleaning only to be told by the nice man at the jewelry counter that the checkup wasn’t due for another two and a half weeks.

“But, I thought I could bring it anytime in February,” I stammered.

“You certainly can, ma’am,” he said. “But today is January 15.”

“Honest?” I asked.

“Cross my heart,” he replied.

Feeling thoroughly confused and slightly suspicious, I looked at the calendar on my watch. Sure enough, it indicated that we were just then experiencing mid-January.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks,” I said, adding,”But as God is my witness I thought we were already in February.”

He just smiled kindly. I hope he isn’t there when I bring my bracelet in for its checkup. I’ve got my disguise ready just in case.

Peace. People.

Non-fatal Public Speaking

Last night I read my piece, “Adventures in Jet Skiing” to a small, yet dare I say, appreciative group, at 621 Gallery in Tallahassee. Oddly enough, I wasn’t terribly nervous. I’d had to edit my original piece to better suit a live reading, and I believe it worked well.

The most difficult part of the evening was waiting my turn while several gifted, published poets read their own pieces. I was entertained and enthralled and ultimately concerned that my piece would be out of place in the setting. Still, when my name was called I rose to the occasion and gamely delivered my tale of surviving my first, and hopefully last, jet ski ride.

Thankfully those in attendance laughed in most of the right places. It helped that I had three lovely friends show up to support me. Julie, Denise, and Lisa, you ladies rock.

If you’ve got a few minutes to waste, Julie filmed most of my reading. I definitely need to slow down my delivery and enunciate more precisely. I chose not to use the microphone because the speaker had an odd and distracting thrum going on, so my recorded voice is a bit too quiet. Thanks to Julie I now have a checklist of things to work on for the next time I am brave enough to step in front of an audience.

Peace, people!

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2016/08/23/riding-a-jet-ski-the-good-the-bad-and-the-ugly/

Two by Two

Today was a day of weird almost-twin sightings. I encountered the first pair early this morning. Sitting in the drive-through lane after ordering a latte at the Starbucks on Magnolia in Tallahassee I saw two men, corporate types, both wearing dark plaid suit jackets. The plaids were subdued, but as I observed the men walking side by side across the parking lot, the almost matching patterns caught my eye. I wondered if they’d called each other before dressing, so similar was their garb.

Then driving home from Tallahassee to Doright Manor I noted two dark haired young men, probably in their late teens or early twenties, sitting just off the side of the road. They appeared to be fishing, but with sticks for poles. And neither was wearing a shirt. Normally that wouldn’t be noteworthy, but it was only about 40°F outside. Brrrr. This time I wondered if they’d called each other to find out what they WEREN’T wearing.

(These are definitely not the shirtless guys I saw.)

Further down the road, between Midway and Quincy, I had to slow down to avoid hitting a pair of men crossing the road while wearing identical vests. Okay, so the vests were bright orange, and the men were part of a road crew. I’m pretty sure they just knew what the other one was wearing to work this morning. No phone call necessary.

Weird stuff, am I right? Wish I’d seen these guys. That would’ve been epic.

Peace, people.

Say What?

I bought a new bra today at a shop in our local mall. As I paid for it, the sales clerk asked me if I wanted it in a bag. Really? It wasn’t as if I was carrying any bags from other stores. I only had my purse. Was I supposed to cram my bra inside my handbag?

Maybe I should’ve said “no bag necessary,” and just strolled around Governor’s Square Mall carrying my new bra. I could’ve draped it around my neck and used it as a scarf, I suppose. Or maybe I could’ve worn it as a belt. How about as a hat? I could call it a branet–like a bonnet, only with cups and straps.

Hey, here’s a purse made out of a bra!

Instead I told her that I did indeed need a bag for my purchase. I guess I’m no trendsetter.

This all made me think of a specific Seinfeld episode:

https://youtu.be/kw7PjickeFc

Peace, people!

More on Louise Penny’s Visit to Tallahassee

Yesterday’s post about my dashed hopes of getting to meet visiting author Louise Penny went on longer than I’d planned, but there were some fun details surrounding her time in Tallahassee that I thought were worth a mention.

Ms. Penny, author of the acclaimed Inspector Gamache series, chose to launch her newest book to a Tallahassee audience when she could’ve gone to any number of much more populous cities to do so. I’d wondered why and before she spoke to a standing room only crowd at Faith Presbyterian on Tuesday night the reason was revealed via the introduction.

It seems a group of women from the church had read and discussed a number of her books and decided to write Ms. Penny a letter telling her what devoted fans they were and offering to take her to dinner. In Canada. That’s where the author lives. They sent the letter off never expecting to hear back, but were elated when she responded telling them she’d love to meet them. The book club members made the pilgrimage to Canada and treated Ms. Penny to lunch where friendships were formed.

Earlier this year one of the group’s members contacted Midtown Reader, a wonderful locally owned bookstore in Tallahassee, asking the owner if she’d read any of Ms. Penny’s books. Indeed, the owner was a big fan herself and had already planned to ask the author to visit here. Connections were made, one thing led to another, and Ms. Penny decided to launch the book from our town.

Again, I cannot stress enough how beautifully written her books are. Yes, they’re murder mysteries, but they’ll renew your hopes for humanity. You’ll also want to dwell in the fictional town of Three Pines. I’m planning to build a small house there myself, and maybe open a little shop down the street from the bistro. I’ll sell artsy t-shirts with witty quotes and hats adorned tastefully with antlers. Maybe.

Peace, people.

How I Spent Black Friday

While thousands of my fellow Americans were engaged in combat with each other, vying for a bargain price on an 85-inch big screen TV or shoving to the front of a long line of like minded people in order to have the best shot at this year’s most asked for toy, I was tucked cozily beneath two layers of blankets on a massage table, enjoying an oh, so soothing facial.

I know it wasn’t a competition, but I’m pretty sure I won the day.

Pumpkin Jumpsuit vs. Risqué Shirtwaist: There are no Winners

Yesterday I shared my tale of shopping angst. I’ve been in search of a cocktail or after 5 dress for an upcoming soirée, and so far I have found nothing. The dresses that fit my 5’8″, size 12, slightly past middle-aged frame, are few and far between. And ugly. I might be nearing the age of 62, but I refuse to dress like my obituary is going into tomorrow’s newspaper.

At one point yesterday I decided to think outside the box in my pursuit of the elusive not-so-matronly dress, so I went to a local store in Tallahassee that always has a mix of new and vintage clothing displayed in their windows. It’s a nice shop, with friendly staff, and a variety of casual and dressier items in stock.

After walking around the store with me and asking about my style and color preferences one of the sales ladies opened a dressing room and began bringing different pieces for me to try on. I was seriously stoked to see just what she might find!

The first outfit was a light green floral jumpsuit. It didn’t scream “COCKTAILS” at me, but I was keeping an open mind. This isn’t it, but it was similar:

On me, the pants ended around mid-calf and the waist hit about two inches north of where my actual waist resides. And the floral pattern just made me look like I needed a good weeding.

Next she brought me another jumpsuit. I wish with all my heart that I’d had the presence of mind to take a photo of me wearing it. First off, it was orange. Not a pretty orange, but a washed out, 70’s shag carpet orange. In fact, I’d swear Studly and I lived in a rental that had the exact same color carpet during our poverty period.

The jumpsuit was crafted from chenille, so I looked like a pumpkin, freshly picked. And again, the waist was too high and the legs too short. Stifling a bout of giggles, I politely asked the sales lady to refrain from bringing any more jumpsuits to the dressing room.

So she brought me an adorable dress. It was simple and sweet on the hanger, but on me? Fugedaboutit. My bosom could not be contained by this little slip of a dress. Indeed, parts of me better left hidden made mad attempts to escape if I even dared to breathe in the gown. It was a Jekyll and Hyde affair, to be sure. All meek and mild on display, while determined to ruin my reputation whilst being worn. Be very glad that I didn’t take photos of this dress. That’s not it below, but you get the picture, right!

My little experiment in thinking outside the box was unproductive; however, I left the store with a badly damaged self-image, and that’s what really counts.

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.