Unretouched photos of me sunbathing. 
Peace, people!
Warning: Graphic Content
Unretouched photos of me sunbathing.
Peace, people!
Tag: Tallahassee
A Quick Story Behind the Selfie
Yesterday I wrote about attending a campaign rally for Hillary Clinton at which former President Clinton spoke. I was an early early EARLY bird and had a front row spot. I’d like to say front row seat, but those were off to one side and reserved for local VIPs.
Given the time I stood in line along with time spent in the actual event I stood for about five hours yesterday. But it was so worth it.
Immediately following the event former President Clinton made his way around the barrier, stopping to shake hands with everyone within reach and graciously posing for pictures with anyone who asked.
When he got to me, a world famous camera klutz, I decided to just shake his hand since I couldn’t do that AND snap a quick selfie. It would have to be enough.
But the young man on the other side of me showed me his photo and I must have made some utterance of envy or dismay, for William Jefferson Clinton, 42nd President of these United States, took two steps back to me and WHISPERED IN MY EAR these momentous words, “What did you say?”
Yes! That happened. And I was flustered, but managed to say, “Oh, my friend was able to get a great selfie and I’m feeling jealous!”
And just like that he posed with me.
Yes, it’s a horrible photo of me–Ms. Psychedelic Funhouse 1956, but what a story, right?
Peace, people. And Vote.
With a Little Help from my Friends
Note: I had a great deal of help with this post. I left blanks in my story and asked friends on Facebook to come up with content. When I had more than one friend respond I drew names from a hat. The darned story went in a totally unforeseen direction. I like it.
My helpful friends are listed at the bottom. Underlined phrases indicate where I received help.
“Flirting with the Law”
Sitting astride her motorcycle in front of a small jewelry store in Panama City Beach, Beth smelled the stranger before she saw him. He smelled like sheets hanging on the line, dried by the summer sun, and she lifted her head to catch his scent on the breeze.
The scent transported her back to her childhood when hanging laundry on the line out back was a chore, but the results well worth the work. There were few things in life better than sleeping on sun-dried sheets.
Lost in her reverie, Beth startled when she realized the police officer standing beside her motorcycle was attached to the nostalgic scent. He was tall, dark, and oh so handsome.
“Excuse me, miss,” This perfect vision of manhood began, “Did you know that your license plate is missing?”
“Huh?” Beth replied in her most articulate manner. “I mean of course it’s not missing. It was there when I left Tallahassee this morning.”
But even as she spoke Beth swung a leg over the back of her bike and walked back to check. Sure enough, the plate was missing.
“Well that’s just weird,” she said. “Now what?”
The nice smelling stranger said, “Could cost you a ticket, you know,” and without looking at her he ran his leather gloved hand along the curvy contour of her tank, stopping at the crest of her saddle seat.
Beth gulped audibly and felt a slow blush creep over her face. “Honest, Officer, ummm…”
“Greg. Just Greg,” he said. “And here’s your plate. I saw some kids messing around with your bike and caught them red handed with your tag.”
Beth exhaled. “Greg, you just saved me a huge headache.”
“Well, I’m not letting you off the hook just yet,” the officer said. “Did you realize that I just finished my shift and I’m starving?”
“I guess I should let you go then, though, I don’t suppose you have a screwdriver on you….” Beth said indicating her detached license plate.
Greg grinned from ear to ear. “Come, let me buy you some lunch, and I’ll find a screwdriver for you.”
For one brief moment Beth considered turning him down. After all, he was a cop, and she did have a bag of stolen diamonds in her saddlebag.
“Why, I’ll take you up on that,”she smiled demurely, looping her arm through his. She was running well ahead of schedule.
Many thanks to
Steven Ramos
Bob Walsh
Flora Diehl
Janie Christie Heniford
along with everyone else who submitted suggestions.
Peace, people!
What a Display
only a fervent belief
in the right to
free speech
and a strong sense
of self-preservation,
prevented my
thoughts from becoming
harsh words upon
encountering this flag’s
presentation.
right out in the open
with their unearned
privilege in full
view of capitol’s stage,
they peddled their
hated rhetoric
making light of the
bondage and bloodshed
of America’s own
darkest age.
Studly and I had visitors from Indiana this weekend. While the men played golf I took my friend LeeAnn to tour the historic Florida capitol building.
I’ve been to the capitol several times now and had never before encountered armed policeman in the old capitol building that now houses a museum. But on this occasion there were two steely eyed officers warily stalking the foyer.
Before I approached the reception desk I asked one of the officers if there was cause for concern. He assured me all was fine, so LeeAnn and I embarked on our tour.
While perusing a second floor exhibit of Florida’s extensive state park system something outside the window caught our attention. There on the capitol grounds was a full-blown demonstration of Confederate flag waving yahoos.
Every molecule in my body called for me to walk down the steps and ask the demonstrators if they understood that the flag is perceived as a symbol of hatred by every fully evolved human. Sanity prevailed, though, and I resisted the urge. That first amendment is a powerful thing. Well, that, and my desire to stay out of jail.
Peace, people!
Entertaining at Doright Manor
We have company coming from Indiana this weekend, and I’m beyond excited. The men will play golf Saturday and Sunday mornings, while we ladies hang out in and around Tallahassee.
I don’t often get to interact with adults other than Studly, so I’ve been practicing my small talk. The cats are my audience. They aren’t very good at providing feedback, though.
Me: So what do you want to do today?
Cat: Meow.
Me: The Tallahassee Museum is supposed to be nice. I’ve never been there….”
Cat: Meow. (I detect a small variation in this meow, but I’m not sure what that indicates.)
Me: And I thought we’d have lunch at Kool Beanz. It’s outstanding and I don’t think I’ve ever taken you there.”
Cat: Yawn.
Me: Well if you’re going to be that way we’ll just stay in all day. Here. Have some tuna.
That didn’t go well at all. I’ve got until Friday to get my patter down. Wish me luck!
Peace, people!
Hospice Hearts
I cried in the mall yesterday. Not sweet, cute, softly falling, feminine tears, but eye-reddening, heart wrenching sobs.
My sole reason for being at the overcrowded Governor’s Square Mall was to purchase my favorite moisturizer at Sephora and get out as quickly as possible. Of course the Great American Cookie Company caught my eye and I had to have an oatmeal raisin walnut cookie. None of which resulted in tears.
After devouring my cookie I noticed a beautifully decorated tree on the edge of the food court. White Art Deco inspired angels accompanied by simple white name tags hung from the branches of the enormous tree. Curious, I approached the evergreen and began reading names. A woman soon joined me and pointed to a tag.
“That’s my daughter,” she said. “She was so beautiful.”
I’m sure I looked confused. You see, I thought the tree was one that had names of underprivileged children for whom one could buy gifts for Christmas. Instead, it was a tree honoring those who’d been in hospice care in the Tallahassee area.
“Tell me about your daughter,” I said, when she pointed out the hospice sign at the base of the tree.
“She was only 30 when she lost her battle with breast cancer. Hospice was there for us.”
Then she broke down in tears. That’s when I started crying. A young woman, a hospice volunteer, came up and offered us tissues. We all hugged. I told them of my personal ties to hospice. Hospice was there as my father neared death, offering support and comfort in our time of grief, and a beloved sister-in-law is a hospice nurse.
Hospice provides much more than just end of life care for terminally ill patients. The strength, wisdom, and compassion of hospice personnel are like a balm to the soul for the entire family. Many hospice organizations rely on donations from the community to provide their services. So, if you are thinking of worthy causes to donate to during the holiday season, please consider your local hospice facility.
Peace, people.
Anagogglin
My vocabulary was enriched this week by the addition of the word, “anagoggle.”
Saint Helen and I were exploring the little community of Colquitt, Georgia, and had walked quite a distance from my car. When we realized we were both fairly tired of walking in the heat we decided to begin angling our way back to our starting point.
“We’ll just have to anagoggle our way back to the car,” Saint Helen said.
“Huh?” I replied in my most articulate manner.
“You know,” she said, demonstrating a zig zag pattern with her hands. “Anagoggle. You’ve never heard of that?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Must be a New Mexico thing,” said Saint Helen.
“Indeed.”
By that time we’d anagoggled over to the car and I’d conjugated the verb successfully: I anagoggled yesterday, we went anagogglin, we can anagoggle.
Peace, people.
The Corruption of Saint Helen
I took my beautiful mother-in-law, Saint Helen, to lunch at The Edison in Tallahassee today.
I had an outstanding BLT. She had a strawberry salad. We both had a cocktail!
Well, to be fair, Saint Helen only had half of one. I drank every last drop of mine.
Rosewater Pink Lemonade shaken with Bombay Gin is a lovely way to celebrate October 29. Or any other day, for that matter.
Peace, people!
Fangirl
There are things in my life that I get a little geeky about. I’m already trying to figure out how to justify going to see Star Wars Episode VII on Christmas Day. I have full color action packed dreams about Han Solo and Chewbacca. That’s geeky.
But this post isn’t about Star Wars, it’s about me geeking out over a favorite author retweeting one of my tweets on Twitter. (Sounds a bit like Rockin’ Robin, doesn’t it?)
When I find an author I like I will read any and everything he or she has ever written. One of those authors is CJ Box. Mr. Box doesn’t write scifi or fantasy, my two favorite genres. No, he writes what I’d call modern western novels, set primarily in Wyoming. One of his protagonists is a game warden named Joe Pickett.
I know Joe Pickett better than I do some members of my own family. Joe’s one of the really good guys in this world, but he’s not perfect. I’d like to think Joe and I could be best friends, but he’d think I talk too much. He’d be right.
While driving around Tallahassee today after getting a pedicure:
I saw a sticker on a car window that read, “Blind Eye Outfitters” and all my warning bells started ringing. Blind eye, eh? Does that mean the outfitter will ignore violations of game laws? Instantly I wanted to touch base with Joe Pickett, and see if he should investigate.
Of course Joe is fictional, so I did the next best thing and tweeted CJ Box. Imagine my delight when he not only favorited my tweet, but then retweeted it! This geeky fangirl squealed a little, I’m not going to lie.
Maybe CJ will notify Joe for me. It could happen.
Peace, people!
Waiting for Breakfast
the most important
meal of the day,
or so i’ve heard,
is the one you’ll
eat upon waking.
who am i to disagree
with waffles and eggs,
pancakes with berries,
and mounds of crisp,
crunchy bacon?
but my favorite spot
has limited seating
and this morning an
incredible queue, i am
already weary of waiting.
Praying for Eyebrowz 