Bird's Yellow House

My Friend's Generous Gifts

2012-02-14T20:57:00.001-05:00

Not too long ago I was at my friend's house and spied a little (barely large enough for washing two hands in at the same time) blue sink in her backyard. I thought to myself that it would make a cute, little, whimsical planter somewhere in my yard. I asked her if I may have it. I said I would pay her for it but she would not hear of it. My friend said that sink (original to her old house) had been in her yard since after Hurricane Charley in 2004, when she had her bathroom remodeled because of storm damage.

Mother Earth was beginning to claim the sink as her own. As I went to pick it up, it took me a few tries to break it free from the grass and soil that was swallowing it up. When I did finally liberate it from Terra Firma, a colony of large, red ants scurried out of the sink's overflow drain (there are still some ants inside the sink as I write this).

I will need to clean the sink up a tad before I transform it into a planter (and get rid of the rest of those ants)...I am impatient to see some pretty Impatiens growing in the sink.

The sink was laying next to my friend's screened-in gazebo. The gazebo was storm-damaged as well. The screens were torn and blowing in the breeze and much of what she had stored inside was ravaged by Hurricane Charley too.

Inside the gazebo I saw two chairs and a couch that looked interesting. They were made out of metal with a grape and leaf motif. Again, I asked my friend if I could have them, offering to pay for them. She wouldn't take anything for them either (she did take The Colonel and I up on our offer to help her clean up the gazebo. I think we will also get her a nice bottle or two of Madeira).

The Colonel and I got the chairs and couch out of the gazebo and carried them to the truck. We then loaded them into the truck's bed.

The next day The Colonel and I went to The Home Depot to pick out new cushions and a new paint color for the couch and chairs.

Before I could paint, I had to clean the chairs and couch. I scraped the old, chipping paint away and I wiped any dust, dirt and cobwebs off that I encountered.

Now to start painting. I chose a glossy spray paint called Khaki (because it went extremely well with the new cushions). I set the first chair on two sawhorses and sprayed away. In no time, I had both chairs done. I did not have time to start the couch, as it was nearing time to make dinner (I plan to paint the couch tomorrow, weather permitting).

Before

After

My friend is coming for dinner early next month and when she sees how nicely the chairs and couch have turned out I think she will be pleased. I just hope she doesn't want them back.

Wordless Wednesday

2012-02-08T10:07:00.002-05:00

Our Little Helper

2012-02-02T22:56:00.000-05:00

The Colonel and I have another outdoor project underway.

We are calling it Charlotte's (one of our cats) Secret Garden.

The project is the brainchild of The Colonel.

The project consists of a picket fence that partially encloses the area where his raised garden is located and a decorated, concrete post (possible sundial location). Eventually we will build an arbor at the entrance to the garden and we will also put a brick walkway within the garden (my body aches just thinking about it).

The Colonel and I are not the only ones working on the project...one of our other cats, Luna, was right there beside us.

As soon as we came home from The Home Depot, Luna jumped in the bed of the truck to check out all of the wood.

She kept her beautiful eyes on us as we were building part of the fence.

This is what we've completed in the past couple of days (thanks go out to The Colonel's father for lending us his post hole digger. It sure made our work easier and faster).

Tomorrow we will start attaching the pickets.

Stay tuned for more accounts (and pictures) of our newest, outdoor, DIY project.

Wordless Wednesday

2012-02-01T03:07:00.001-05:00

Old Is New

2012-01-31T23:31:00.000-05:00

When The Colonel and I first built our house nearly 5 years ago, we bought some chairs for the porches.

These chairs are wooden Adirondacks with little tables to go along with them. Yam and I built the chairs (4) and tables (2) in the family room once they arrived via UPS.

The other day I was looking at two of the chairs and one of the tables. They were tired and worn looking. Five years of the Florida sun and weather had faded them so much that they became the color of an unhealthy liver. They were no longer the nice, deep, red color they once were.

The Colonel suggested I give the pieces of furniture a new coat of paint. We went into the garage and rummaged through the cans of spray paint stored there. I had some pretty colors to choose from...Aqua, Lagoon and Spa Blue.

I scraped and cleaned the chairs in preparation for their new paint job and The Colonel tightened all of the bolts down. He then set up two old sawhorses in the back yard so that I would have the table and chairs at the correct level for spraying.

The day was warm, sunny and breezy at times. I had to time my spraying between zephyrs. I ran out of paint and had to make a run to The Home Depot for more (I also picked up some white, as I will need to give my rockers a new paint job real soon).

I was very pleased with the new, fresh and tropical look of my old table and chairs.

When I was done, my right hand was weak from pressing down on all the spray can nozzles (I wrote Yam a letter that evening and my penmanship, which is suspect to begin with, bore little resemblance to itself...I wonder what Yam will think when she receives my letter).

I had a rainbow of spray paint in my hair, on my arms, face and sunglasses. The wind carried the fine paint mist in my direction each time I failed to time my spraying correctly between breezes (I came clean after a couple of showers and aggressive scrubbing).

I have two more chairs and a table just like these that will need a new paint job soon...time to rummage through the garage again for more leftover spray paint....I think I saw a pretty green in there.

Formidable Fortifications

2012-01-19T14:02:00.002-05:00

Soaking in the history that Savannah and the surrounding area had to offer, The Colonel and I visited two forts during our early 25th anniversary trip (August 11-16, 2011).

The first fort we visited, Fort King George, was the oldest of the two. From its construction in 1721 until it was abandoned in 1732, Fort King George was the southernmost outpost of the British Empire in North America. It was named for King George I of Britain. The garrison stationed there faced tremendous hardships from disease, malnutrition, heat, biting insects (still present when The Colonel and I visited) and threats by the Spanish and Indians. The garrison eventually withdrew back to South Carolina in 1727, but two lookouts stayed behind to keep watch and warn of any invaders crossing the Altamaha River nearby. The fort was finally abandoned in 1732.

In 1736, Highland Scots recruited by General James Oglethorpe (remember him from an earlier post?) occupied the fort site. They built temporary thatched huts that served as housing. Later Oglethorpe moved the settlement a short distance upriver to a higher bluff and had a new fort built, Fort Darien.

After our visit to Fort King George, we visited Fort Pulaski located on Cockspur Island.

Fort Pulaski's construction began in 1829. It took $1 million, 25 million bricks and 18 years of toil to finish. It was named for Count Casimir Pulaski, the Polish hero of the American Revolution who lost his life in the unsuccessful siege of Savannah in 1779.

In April of 1861, Union troops located on Tybee Island, bombarded Confederate held Fort Pulaski on Cockspur Island with around 5,275 shells. Shells from both Union and Confederate troops passed over the little Cockspur Lighthouse, with never a one hitting it (thank goodness or I would not have been able to get some of those great pictures of the little Cockspur lighthouse).

The Confederate Army surrendered to the Union Army 30 hours after the bombardment began.

The fort was used by the Union Army as a prison from October 1864 to March 1865. The prisoners endured scurvy, starvation and dysentery. One year after becoming prisoners, 537 men were transferred to Fort Delaware. The remaining 13 prisoners would die at Fort Pulaski, their bodies dehydrated and emaciated. There are some people who claim that the prison area of the fort is still haunted by those Confederate prisoners.

It was very interesting to visit both of the forts and to see how fortifications had changed in the years between 1721 and 1829.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T02:35:00.002-05:00

Ode To 2011

2011-12-31T06:00:00.005-05:00

Year three of blogging is done,

not as many posts as year two and one.

A very busy year with little rest,

time spent becoming an empty-nest.

Looking forward to what the new year brings,

so that I may share many more things.

The Oddly Perfect Gift

2011-12-28T20:00:00.000-05:00

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Thanksgiving (Nov. 24th) this year was a little different from those in the past. Instead of cooking the big turkey dinner at home, we opted to eat our turkey-and-all-the-fixins at Cracker Barrel.

Yam and Spud were home from college, Darling-Sister-In-Law was in town and The Colonel's parents joined us from across town.

The fact that we ate at Cracker Barrel wasn't what made this Thanksgiving so different...it was the little presentation given by Darling-Sister-In-Law, when we got back home and as we all sat on the back porch, digesting, enjoying the excellent weather and one another's company.

Darling-Sister-In-Law was standing near the steps with a piece of paper in her hand and a small gift bag at her feet.

She began reading...

"Today we come together to celebrate another prosperous year. Those who work have jobs, those whose work is finished are reaping the benefits, those who seek higher knowledge have the opportunity to do so.

We are able to be together as a family, we are healthy, we want for nothing.

But today, that is not all we celebrate. For one among us has reached a milestone they set for themselves.

Bird, you have now been a "Jones" longer than you were a "Smith".

You can't choose the family you are born into but you can choose who you make a family with."

She then hands me the little gift bag which contains a small, beautiful box. I open the box and inside I find a pair of pretty, Victoria Secret panties and Darling-Sister-In-Law says,

"As a "Jones", you will never have to share underwear."

I am surprised and very touched by the words and the gift. During all of the upcoming holiday preparations, I had forgotten about this milestone of mine, but those I chose to make a family with did not.

My In-Laws had not forgotten my tale of having to share underwear with my four sisters and always seeming to get the ones without enough elastic in the waistband to keep them up and having to resort to using a beaded Indian belt to cinch them around my waist.

The words, the gift, the thoughtfulness (and humor) are such things that make me feel so blessed to have chosen the right people to make a family with.

2011-12-25T03:21:00.001-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-21T05:17:00.001-05:00

Worn Out

2011-12-16T18:50:00.004-05:00

Well done, good and faithful servant.

My camera finally wore out (must have been those thousands of pictures I took).

It started in October. I was taking some pictures of The Colonel at his birthday lunch at a local Mexican restaurant and my camera's screen started breaking up. It would take one or two good pictures and then a bad one.

This behavior continued to spiral downward until finally my camera refused to work any longer after our town's Christmas parade.

I called Canon's repair service center and found out that it would be cheaper (Best Buy and Office Depot had some sales going on) to just go out and buy a new camera instead of send my old one in to be fixed (plus I cannot be without a camera for long (at all), especially at Christmastide).

I bought a new Canon camera (an early Christmas present from my In-Laws) and anticipate taking thousands more pictures in the future with my new, good and faithful servant.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-14T05:13:00.001-05:00

Historical Hauntings

2011-12-09T19:25:00.002-05:00

A couple of days prior to Halloween, The Colonel, Darling-Sister-In-Law and I participated in an event that took place in the second oldest cemetery (established in 1886) in the county where I live.

The county historical center was hosting the first ever "The Tales of Indian Spring Cemetery: A Hauntingly Historical Walking Tour".

During this event, patrons (the tour was $10) would come to the cemetery (6pm - 8 pm) where they would be taken on a tour through the oldest section of the cemetery, as "spirit guides" would show them grave sites and tell them tales of those buried there.

The Colonel was dressed as a grave digger spirit guide. He was at the beginning of the tour. Some of his tales included one about Katie Sloan. She was mauled by a dog in the late 1880's and died. She was also eight months pregnant with her second child at the time. He also spoke about Swede Johnson who worked with the Ringling Bros. Circus for over 50 years and his son, Hunkie Johnson. Hunkie also worked with animals, especially bears, but he should have been more careful around the most dangerous animal...the human animal, because his own son-in-law murdered him. The Colonel also spoke about Albert W. Gilchrist. He was leading area real estate developer, orange grove owner, cigar factory owner, state legislator and state governor.

There were other spirit guides pointing out and sharing tales of the dead along the tour's route between The Colonel and myself. Darling-Sister-In-Law and I were near the end of the tour.

I was also a spirit guide, dressed as a fictional character I created and named, "Cemetery Mary". Mary was a drowning victim of the 1894 hurricane. She was fished out of the harbor, was unknown to anyone and consequently buried in the cemetery's Potter's Field. I played my character so well, even my mother-in-law did not recognize me.

As a guide, my first stop was at Marshal John Bowman's graveside. Darling-Sister-In-Law was at that stop. She was portraying Marshal Bowman's daughter, Betty. As Betty (grown up), she told the story of how her father was killed by shotgun fire that came through the window one evening in 1903. He was shot in the back of the head and died instantly. Betty was sitting on his lap at the time of the shooting; she was about 4 years old. After telling her tale, Betty would hold up her childhood dress which was covered in her father's blood.

Leaving Betty and Marshal Bowman behind I then took my tour group to the Potter's Field area of the cemetery. That area of the cemetery is where the poor and indigent are buried. The term Potter's Field is found in the Bible.

When Judas betrayed Christ, he was paid in 30 pieces of silver. Judas soon became guilt-ridden, gave the silver back to the chief priests and then hanged himself. Well, the chief priests did not want to use the "Blood Money" for the synagogue's poor box, so they took the silver and purchased a field of clay. This clay was used by potters to make pots, hence the name Potter's Field. The chief priests designated this field for the burials of strangers and the poor.

While in the Potter's Field area of the cemetery, my next stop was at the grave of "Big 6". There is no real headstone marking exactly where Big 6 is buried, so The Colonel and I created one for the tour.

Well, Big 6 was a local prostitute, over six feet tall and working under the name of Miss Ollie Bracket. She ran a "bawdy house" of ill repute and had seven girls working for her and had a few customers of her own she would personally entertain. She would wear provocative dresses, large hats and feather boas as she rode side-saddle on a big white horse down the streets of town.

In 1894, Big 6 fell ill with dysentery. She did not want a doctor and refused to let the girls call one in for her. Eventually she fell into a coma and the girls had to call in the doctor.

The doctor discovered the Big 6 had a big secret...she wasn't a woman, she was a man!

Big 6 soon died and the coroner called in several prominent citizens to witness the body. They all agreed that Big 6 was a hermaphrodite...having both male and female sexual organs.

Personal papers were found in Big 6's trunk and one was a marriage certificate stating that under the name of Mariah Dempsey, Big 6 married a man, Dan Patrick, in Tampa in the year 1892.

Big 6's real name was George Asbell. He was from Alabama. Upon learning of his death, a niece from Alabama claimed that her uncle George had to flee that state and assume a female identity because he had killed his cousin Tom by pushing him off a cliff.

One of the other spirit guides' husbands bravely put a dress on and portrayed Big 6. He was terrific. As I told the tale of Big 6, he was standing at the headstone with his back to the tour group. As soon as I said, "Big 6 had a big secret...not a woman, but a man", he turned around and faced the group. There were many gasps and much laughter.

After bidding farewell and thanks to Big 6 (who said, "You're welcome sugar", in his best falsetto, which brought on more laughs), I took my tour group to the cemetery section called Baby Land. As the name implies, this is the area where babies and small children are buried. Legend has it that some visitors to Baby Land can hear the sound of children playing and laughing.

The final stop on my leg of the tour was at a family mausoleum. Most graves and mausoleums in cemeteries face east...this one for some unknown reason faces west.

It was fun to give the tours (about 6 or 7 groups) and give the history of some of the people buried in Indian Spring Cemetery. It was the first time I had ever been in a cemetery after dark. My inner thespian loved the dress-up and play-acting/theatrical aspect of the tour.

The Colonel, Darling-Sister-In-Law and I had so much fun participating in the first cemetery historical walking tour, if there is a second one I think we'd like to do it again.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-12-07T01:12:00.001-05:00

My Mom and Wacky Weather

2011-11-17T22:08:00.017-05:00

I have been a little busy and preoccupied of late and have not had any new postings for a while (as some of my readers have pointed out recently), so now, I hope to remedy this situation.

I am now back home after a nearly two-week visit to my parent's house in Indiana.

This trip was not one of leisure (although I did have some fun).

I went to help take care of my mother (who had gotten out of the hospital just three days prior) and to lend a hand to ease the burden on my father and siblings who had been with my mother throughout her nearly two-week hospital stay. A severe reaction to a new medication had landed my mother in the hospital.

My mother was getting stronger each day. The visiting nurse, occupational therapist and physical therapist from the hospital came in (on separate days), assessed her and each one signed off, saying my mother did not need their assistance (a woman who has given birth to 8 children has to be one tough mother, er, uh, cookie I mean).

It was good to see my parents, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews and my good friend Kim while in Indiana. I played some great card games like Euchre and 1 to 10 with my family and Kim made me a delicious lunch of excellent tomato soup, one of the best grilled cheese sandwiches I have ever eaten and a tasty, family dessert cake of which I cannot remember the correct nor incorrect name of (thanks again Kim for the delicious lunch and laughter-filled visit).

There is an old saying that goes like this..."If you don't like the weather in Indiana, stick around for a few minutes and it will change."

When I arrived (on Halloween), the beautiful colors of fall welcomed me and the weather was pleasant (even for this thin-blooded Floridian). The day before I left Indiana it snowed! Even for Indiana it was an early snow (I flew out of Indianapolis on November 11, Veteran's Day).

My sister and I ran outside to see the big, fat snowflakes. They were swirling around us like we were in an enormous snow globe. I tried to catch some on my tongue and immediately thought that Lucy, of Charlie Brown and Peanuts fame, would shake her head at me and say that she only eats January snowflakes.

I loved seeing the snow fall, it was beautiful. It has been a while since I have seen it but that little bit was enough...I got my fill. I remember the Blizzard of 1978 (and many other long, frigid winters) and was glad that I was heading back to sunny, subtropical Florida the next day even though the little snow flurry did not last long and the snow melted almost as soon as it hit the ground.

Matrimonial Mathematics

2011-10-18T21:17:00.001-04:00

One Man + One Woman + 25 Years of Marriage = Two Beautiful Children and Many Wonderful Memories

Oneth By Land, Oneth By Sea

2011-10-07T01:22:00.000-04:00

Tybee Island and Cockspur Island are a short drive from Savannah and each island is home to a lighthouse. The Colonel and I like visiting (and occasionally climbing to the top of) lighthouses.

Tybee Island is named after a Native American word for "salt". Many flags have flown over the island, claiming the coastal paradise for Spain, England, France and the Confederacy. The Light Station has the distinction of being the site of one of the nation's oldest and tallest lighthouses, originally built in 1773. The lighthouse has 178 steps (which The Colonel and I opted out of taking this go around). Tybee's lighthouse is accessible by land.

The Cockspur Lighthouse on the other hand is only accessible by the water (we wished we had our kayaks so that we could get out to, and then into the little lighthouse). The current Cockspur Lighthouse is 46 feet tall and was built in 1856 upon the ruins of an earlier lighthouse.

The Colonel and I had to walk along a woolly and muddy trail to get as close as we could to the little lighthouse in the water. We were not going to let foliage, mud or biting insects deter us so that I could get "that perfect shot" of the Cockspur Lighthouse. The lighthouse begs you to take its picture.

Eatin' Our Way Thru Savannah

2011-10-06T03:55:00.001-04:00

The Colonel and I discovered that Savannah is full of delicious food.

After we checked into our 1872 guest house we walked through some of the many pretty squares that dot Savannah's historical district to the Riverfront. There we ate at the Cotton Exchange restaurant.

I had a very southern dish of shrimp and grits. They were awesome! I have got to learn how to make them like the Cotton Exchange does. I think this Yankee girl can make that happen eventually, because I recently made another very traditional southern dish of Banana Pudding (which we saw on every menu in Savannah) and two of my friends who were born and raised here in the South thought my pudding was extremely delicious (and have asked me, a Yankee, to make it again soon).

While in Savannah, The Colonel and I also ate at Paula Deen's restaurant, Lady and Sons. The food was dee-licious Y'all.

When you decide to eat at Paula Deen's restaurant you have your name and the number in your party put on a list, then you go across the street to wait until your name is called. Before names are called a waiter from the restaurant comes out to ring a triangle dinner bell (really whips the crowd up). When your name is called you are given a card with what floor of the restaurant you will eat on. They really have this down to a science to get people in and out in a quick, orderly fashion. The Colonel and I were on the second floor. We opted to eat from the buffet. I only had one piece of fried chicken, there were so many sides I wanted to try and did not want to fill up on chicken.

We ate where Paula Deen got her start; Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room. Lunch is served there between 11AM and 2PM only. The line outside the door starts early.

When you reach the door you are asked how many are in your party that way they can best seat you at a table. Each table can seat 8 to 10 people and you are seated with total strangers (we had two German men at our table). The lunch is served family-style. There was fried chicken, BBQ pork, beef stew and all kinds of side dishes available (The Colonel counted 32 side dishes on the table).

The waitresses kept on refilling the food dishes. Once everyone at the table had their fill a dessert tray was handed around. You had a choice of peach cobbler or, of course, banana pudding. Mrs. Wilkes' Dining Room has one rule and that is when you are done you must take you plate and glass to the kitchen door where a worker will take it from you so that it can be washed. Oh yes, one more rule I almost forgot...Mrs. Wilkes' only takes cash.

There are so many places available to eat at while in Savannah. The Pirates' House is another place we chose.

It was built in 1754 and associated with Robert Louis Stevenson's, Treasure Island.

The history of the Pirates' House is rife with tales of drunken sailors being carried through a tunnel, out a door near the river, whisked away aboard ships and pressed into service with hopes of making it back to Savannah one day.

The food was delicious and our waitress was knowledgeable about the history of the restaurant and was willing to take my camera down to the haunted cellar and take some pictures for me (only because it was daylight she said).

When she came back she said that my camera was acting strange down there. The flash was on, but it would not always work as she was snapping pictures. These are some of the shots she took.

We didn't see anything paranormal in the pictures she took.

We found a nice convenience store called Parker's Market. It much more than a convenience store...It had gourmet cheeses and wines available for purchase as well as many pretty gifts and cards to choose from. We walked there every morning and got our breakfast and coffee. The people working there were extremely friendly.

We had very delicious pizza twice at Vinnie Van G0-Go's located in the City Market area of Savannah. We also had a lovely dinner at the hotel 17Hundred90 (our guest house was associated with that hotel).

Thank goodness Savannah is a very walkable city...with all of that delicious food to eat, The Colonel and I needed the exercise to limit the pounds we could have packed on while there (Oh, I almost forgot, we also made two stops at Leopold's Ice Cream-some of the best ice cream we've ever eaten).

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-28T06:08:00.000-04:00

Our Introduction to the South's "Hostess City"

2011-09-26T21:16:00.003-04:00

It is still about three weeks until our 25th wedding anniversary and over one month ago The Colonel and I celebrated it by taking a much anticipated (and planned) trip to Savannah "The Hostess City of the South", Georgia.

The Colonel and I love history and Savannah (and the surrounding area) is drenched in Colonial and Civil War history.

Savannah was established in 1733 as the Colonial Capital Province of Georgia by General James Edward Oglethorpe. He was sent to Georgia by King George II (hence the name, Georgia) to create a buffer between the English Carolinas and Spanish Florida as well as French Louisiana.

Oglethorpe did not allow lawyers, rum, slaves or Catholics in his newly established province. He thought Catholics would be influenced by or sympathize with Catholic Spain in nearby Florida. Oglethorpe thought there was no need for lawyers and that people could work out their differences between themselves. Rum caused people to become intoxicated, which in turn caused trouble and Oglethorpe was personally against slavery (Georgia's history had Oglethorpe rolling in his grave a few times since his original social experiment of 1733 I would imagine).

Our very first experience in Savannah was checking into a guest house that was built in 1872 by John Feely, on land that was once owned by the last Royal Governor of Georgia, James Wright.

This was the little, enclosed garden area behind the guest house.

And this was our private balcony. On the balcony was a wrought iron table and two chairs, the perfect place for a cup of coffee in the morning.

We stayed on the second floor. We had a beautiful bedroom, a gorgeous bathroom and a fabulous parlor.

During most of our stay at the guest house (6 nights) we were the only ones in the entire house....or were we? The Colonel and I would hear footsteps and dragging sounds from the floor above us when no one else was staying at the house. Savannah is supposed to be one of the most haunted places in the United States.

The minute we walked into the guest house we were smitten with its historic charm and taken in by its beauty (actually when I saw it on line while looking for lodging, it was then that I was smitten).

The ceilings in the guest house are beautiful. In 1890 two Norwegian ship painters were staying at the house and instead of paying rent with money (they apparently were short of) they offered to paint the ceilings. The ceilings in our bedroom and parlor were beautiful as well as the ceiling of the parlor on the ground floor.

Our beautiful bedroom and its ceiling.

Gorgeous bathroom.

Fabulous parlor.

This is the ceiling of the first floor parlor.

A close-up of the detail; a delicate butterfly and flowers.

While staying at the guest house we couldn't help but feel transported to the year 1872. The parlor especially made us feel that way with its floor to ceiling windows, original hardwood floors and opulent appointments. During the day and evenings horse-drawn carriages would pass beneath our parlor windows. The clip-clop of hooves would become louder as the carriage drew nearer and would fade away with its departure. You could imagine you were 139 years in the past where no cars existed.

Looking out our parlor windows and across the street we could see the balcony of the Owens-Thomas house where the Marquis de Lafayette gave a rousing speech in front of a throng of listeners on March 19, 1825.

The image of the painting below is from the Internet; Preston Russell

Lafayette (67 at the time) toured all of the states (with "Rock Star" appeal), travelling more than 6,000 miles at the request of President James Monroe in honor of the 50th anniversary of the United States of America.

Lafayette, born into a wealthy French family (and later married into an even wealthier family), as a young man had sympathized with the American struggle for independence and fought in crucial battles of the American Revolution. He was at Valley Forge with George Washington (he would later name his son George Washington Lafayette and his son would travel with him on his 1825 tour of the U.S.A.).

If our very first experience of Savannah was an indication of what the "Hostess City of the South" had to offer us, we were going to have a remarkable and diverting time on our anniversary trip.

Genetics or Lifestyle: Which is The Real Fountain of Youth?

2011-09-16T06:50:00.001-04:00

One day, The Colonel, Yam and I were shopping at Wal-Mart when Yam spotted an elderly gentleman shopping all alone. (The photos used here are stock photos from the Internet).

"Aw, I bet he lives all alone and does his own cooking too," Yam said, "I feel sorry for him and I just want to give him a hug."

I admit, I felt the same way.

We discussed the old man's possible life scenario some more as I pulled out a gallon of 1% milk that had an acceptable expiration date stamped upon it (The Colonel was in the cat food section, we would meet up with him near the checkout lanes).

As we finished with our checkout and made our way to the exit, we spotted the same elderly gentleman. He and his cart were at the exit door at the same time we were. We looked over to him as he was gathering up three or four full, plastic Wal-Mart bags into his hands.

"Can I help you with your bags?" asked Yam.

"No, but you can help me with the cart by putting it back for me," said the elderly man.

So, Yam did.

We walked to our vehicle and noticed the elderly man following us. His vehicle was parked near ours.

Before going to his car, he came over to our truck.

"I should probably be helping you with your bags," he said to Yam, as he lifted all of his plastic bags using just one arm.

"I am 97-years-old, I live alone, still drive, take care of my own yard and run on the treadmill three times a week at the wellness center," he said as he smiled.

He told us he still drives his two cars that he bought new, 29 and 31 years ago. His car looked brand spanking new. He takes as much great care with it as he does himself obviously.

I asked him what his secret to longevity was and he said it was hard work.

He was impressive.

We said our goodbyes.

Our encounter with this sprightly, mentally sharp, elderly gentleman got me to thinking...

First, I have to start taking better care of myself.

Second, what matters more in ensuring one's longevity, mental acuity and physical agility in old age... genetic make-up or lifestyle choices?

We've all heard the stories of people who have reached 100 and drink alcohol or smoke daily.

Then there is the story of Jim Fixx, the running guru and author of the 1977 best seller, The Complete Book of Running, who was found dead of a heart attack on the side of a New England road at 52 years of age.

I don't think genetic make-up or lifestyle choices can ever be independent of one another when it comes to aging well. Having great genes is an excellent foundation upon which wise lifestyle choices can be laid when building a long, healthy life.

Take what you were born with and take care of it.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-14T04:57:00.001-04:00

On Turning 50 or Keeping My Chin(s) Up

2011-09-13T16:42:00.001-04:00

I'm 50.

The Big 5-0.

I am not sad or depressed, just a little surprised when I stop and think about it (I vividly remember my parents turning 50).

I am generally a "glass is half-full" type of gal and turning 50 has not changed that.

When thinking about writing this piece for my blog, I googled the Internet, searching for positive quotes/sayings about turning 50...as you can imagine, not a whole lot of those out there.

I did find a few that echoed my sentiments about reaching the half-century mark.

40 is the old age of youth; 50 is the youth of old age.

Aging seems to be the only available way to live a long life.

It is better to be "over the hill" than to be buried under it.

The years have gone by quickly. As I age, each year seems to pass quicker than the one before it. This phenomenon does not make me sad, it makes me eager to take advantage of the years ahead of me and make sure I to live them fully and use my time wisely.

Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you. -Carl Sandburg

A Sizable Matter

2011-09-08T05:05:00.001-04:00

Size does matter.

It matters especially when you want to be known for being the World's or The United States' Smallest/Littlest (insert noun here).

I have visited the World's Smallest Police Station located in Carrabelle, FL. The Colonel and I took Yam and Spud to see it when we lived in Florida's Panhandle (2001-2006).

The police station is a phone booth.

Originally the police phone was in a call box that was bolted onto a building. The police would get drenched while answering the phone when it was raining, so in early 1963 the phone was moved to a phone booth. The police had hoped this move would also stop people from making unauthorized long-distance phone calls from the police phone. It didn't. Eventually the dial was removed so people could no longer make the calls.

One morning, after Yam and Spud got on the school bus, The Colonel surprised me with a day trip to Ochopee, FL. Ochopee sits on the edge of the Everglades and reportedly has a population of 11.

Ochopee is home to the Smallest Post Office in the United States. It is a 7 x 8-foot building that was once an irrigation pipe shed for a tomato farm. In 1953, a fire destroyed Ochopee's general store which housed the post office, so the post office was moved to its current location.

There is no bathroom in the air-conditioned post office, so when nature calls the clerk has to drive 3 miles west to a Subway restaurant or one mile east to the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters (the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters was the real destination of the surprise day trip and seeing the post office was an added bonus).

While The Colonel and I were recently traveling Coastal Highway 17 in Georgia, we passed The Littlest Church in The United States, "Where folks rub elbows with God".

It was so cute tucked into the woods a little ways from the highway, so inviting.

A woman named Agnes Harper had the 10 x 15 church built in 1949. She wrote the deed in the name of Jesus Christ. Mrs. Harper installed stained-glass windows from England and there is a glass star in the roof that allows sunlight to flood the little church, lighting the interior at midday.

The church is open to all for worship and is open 24 hours a day. There is room for 13 people inside (was that intentional...Jesus plus the 12 Apostles?).

Size matters too when you want to be known as the Largest/Biggest (again, insert noun here) in the World or The United States.

So far, The Colonel, Yam, Spud and I have visited the World's Largest Hand-dug Well located in Greensburg, Kansas. It was hand-dug in 1887 at a cost of $45,000. The well is 109-feet long and 32-feet in diameter.

We (along with a Mennonite family) descended to the well's bottom via an illuminated stairway and then climbed our way back to the surface by retracing our steps on the stairway. As I recall (we visited the well sometime between 1996-1998), it was a bit cool down in the well, kind of cave like. It was (and still is) amazing to think the huge well was dug completely by hand.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-09-07T06:27:00.001-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-08-31T05:53:00.001-04:00

It's A Little Scary...Even Now

2011-08-26T20:05:00.005-04:00

The Colonel and I are currently watching episodes of Dark Shadows on Netflix Instant Watch. We are hooked.

Dark Shadows ran on ABC from June 1966 to April 1971. There were 1,225 episodes made for the Gothic soap opera.

The soap opera was on every week day at 3:00 PM.

I remember my sisters and I coming home from school (I was almost five years old when the show first aired) and watching Dark Shadows. The next day at school, all the kids would talk about what was happening at Collinwood in Collinsport.

"Don't come crying to me when you can't sleep because Dark Shadows has given you nightmares", our mom would say to us.

The soap opera was scary, especially for elementary school-aged children. I jumped in bed with one of my siblings on more than one occasion because I was frightened.

Watching the soap opera now, I see that my young mind did not grasp all of the intricacies and nuances of the show. It is somewhat campy and I can see why it has an intense cult following now.

The actors on the soap had rigorous schedules. The scenes of the daily, half-hour shows were usually taped in just one take. Imagine trying to memorize your new lines on a daily basis and having to do them in one take. Many mistakes were made.

The Colonel and I like watch to see when the errors take place. Many of the actors often look to the side at cue cards as they are delivering their lines. It is also fun to see the microphone boom enter the shot. I have seen the stagehands wandering onto the back of the sets and a fly land on Barnabas Collins' face.

Despite the mistakes, the soap opera is fun to watch and it sucks (no pun intended) you in. The Colonel and I watch a few episodes each night to see what will happen next (we have forgotten some of it, but it is amazing how much we do remember, in spite of how young we were when we first watched the soap opera).

I haven't had any nightmares from watching Dark Shadows...but it sure is comforting, knowing The Colonel is only an arm's length away from me when I am asleep at night.

The Long and Winding Road(s)

2011-08-22T17:40:00.001-04:00

I know, I have been missing in action for a little while. I have been very busy lately.

The Colonel and I have been on the road...many different roads.

We've been away from home most of this month.

Our travelling schedule looked like this:

Four days into August we drove three hours to Darling-Sister-In-Law's (DSIL) house in order to spend the night before heading another three hours the next morning to pick Spud up from summer school at the University of North Florida (UNF).

We picked Spud and his things up and drove three hours again to DSIL's house to drop Spud's school things off before continuing another three hours to our house.

The next day we had to pack Yam's college items in the truck and hit the road again, this time only a one hour drive. Yam had to move in early to start her Resident Assistant (R.A.) training. After helping Yam move in and saying our goodbyes we got on the road to home.

Three days after dropping Yam off we were on the road again.

We drove once again to DSIL's house to drop off the rest of Spud's college things before continuing to the Jacksonville area to spend the night at a hotel because we had to drop Spud off for Naval ROTC camp at Jacksonville University (J.U.) early the next morning and did not want to make the three hour drive at the crack of dawn. Spud would be at camp for one week.

While Spud was at camp, The Colonel and I would be in Savannah, Georgia and the surrounding area on a little vacation; an early, 25th anniversary gift to one another (blogs to follow...got to get my thoughts and pictures in order).

Our time in Savannah went by too fast and it was time to pick Spud up from camp at J.U.

We picked Spud up and drove to DSIL's house again for a quick stop to collect all of Spud's college things before hitting the road again. He had to be back at J.U. at 6:30 AM the next day for an ROTC function and then be at UNF to move into his dorm later that same day. The vehicle was so packed that The Colonel and I had to leave our suitcases and items we picked up in Savannah at DSIL's house.

We made the three hour drive again to Jacksonville and got a room for the night.

Spud did his ROTC thing (blog about that later) and we moved him into his room (another blog later). We said our goodbyes.

Once again we made the three hour drive to DSIL's house for a quick stop. We picked up our suitcases and Savannah booty and hit the road once more for the three hour drive back home.

The final miles and hours of our travelling brought us to the exit for the road to becoming Empty-Nesters. We got off on that exit ramp.

Empty-Nesters!

I don't know whether to cheer or cry (I'm sure I will do a little of both).

I guess we've been heading towards that exit ever since the day Yam and Spud were born, it just seems to have come along so quickly.

The Colonel and I are already experiencing some of the little changes that being Empty-Nesters brings. We did not set our alarm clocks and were able to sleep in today. There was no getting up early to say, "Have a good day at school" as Spud left for the school bus. That was nice.

Cooking for two is another thing I will have to get used to (again). It will not be difficult, I will just have to have the discipline and desire to make myself cook dinner and not turn to quick and easy meals just because there are the two of us now. I will have to adjust all of my recipes.

Another part of being Empty-Nesters that The Colonel and I are looking forward to is being able to take little day-trips and not feeling the need to cut them short in order to be home before the kids get off the school bus.

I will miss having my kids around and I am sure I will worry about them, but I won't let that consume me.

The Colonel and I are now "on the road" to a new chapter of our lives.

The Newest "Fugitive" On The Feline Underground Railroad

2011-07-26T22:00:00.002-04:00

I call my back porch "The Feline Underground Railroad".

The first "Fugitive" or cat to show up was Riley. He appeared in September of 2007, four months after we moved into our newly built house. He was a buff-colored, teddy bear-like sweetheart. He lived with us until he passed away in May of 2010.

Shadow arrived a month after Riley. Shadow is a big, black, tomcat. He was very skittish at first. Now he loves to be petted and when you talk to him, he chatters back. He comes and goes at will, as tomcats are wont to do (we would like to have him neutered one day, but are afraid if we put him in a carrier and take him to the vet, it will traumatize him and we may never see him again. Why can't the vet be like James Herriot and make a house call?).

The railroad had a little dry spell until Sweetpea, a gray tabby, showed up in January of 2008. She appeared to be "heavy with kitten" so we took her to a feline, no-kill shelter so that she could be cared for and adopted. I was not ready nor willing to take on a mama cat and her kittens.

Then Grady showed up in March. He was a little shy at first. We were finally able to get him into a cat carrier in June and take him to the vet. Sadly he tested positive for Feline FIV, a fatal disease and highly communicable, and had to be put down.

In April, a dog showed up on The Feline Underground Railroad. She was a Miniature Pinscher. She had a wounded foot and was wearing a collar so we called the number, only to find it was disconnected. The little mite showed up on a weekend (of course) and we had to take her to an emergency vet. We left her there at the vet's, they would see that she was placed with a new family.

Another little dry spell for the railroad until January 2009 when Charlotte showed up. She is a sweet and gentle cat. She is a light gray tabby and her beautiful green eyes look like they have eye liner around them.

Now, two and a half years later another cat shows up.

Yam has named her Luna, after one of the characters in Harry Potter.

We believe Luna is one of the cats who belonged to our elderly neighbor. She had four cats and a dog at one time. We would see the cats sitting in her windows. Our neighbor was removed from her home very recently as she was unable to live by herself and was suffering from dementia.

We are not sure how Luna found herself outside. Did she escape when the old lady had a door open or was she thrown out to fend for herself. We had seen one of the other cats around the neighbor's house too. Shortly before the old lady was removed from her house, Animal Control visited her house. We believe that her dog and other cats were taken at that time.

The Colonel spotted Luna on one of his nightly bike rides. She was near the very busy road that is at the end of our boulevard. He called to her and she came to him straight away. He then called Yam and I to bring some food for her. She was starving. We coaxed her back to our house and into the garage and fed her more. Shadow and Charlotte sniffed and checked her out. No major hissing or fighting.

At first Luna is an unusual looking cat. She is definitely part Siamese. She has the blue eyes, an angular face, large ears and long legs. She is also a Manx, meaning she has no tail, only the stub of one. She is also a calico. She has three colors, white, beige and light brown. Yam and I thought Luna's body looked goat-like. Her fur is very soft, almost rabbit-like.

The more we saw of her and got to know her personality, the more we liked her. She loves to be around people. Loves to be held and petted and she "talks" up a storm (that is the Siamese in her). Luna is very curious and likes to know what's going on around her. She is a bit nosey.

Yam and I took Luna to the vet yesterday. We did not know how she would react to the pet carrier. The Colonel put her in the carrier for us. No problem. Luna laid down as soon as she was put in. On the way to the vet she never meowed, she just laid in the carrier.

When we were in the exam room, Luna was very curious but relaxed. There was no hissing or growling as she was poked with needles and thermometers. She was easy going when the vet shaved her belly looking for a spay scar (none there) and when he was performing an ultrasound to look for any possible kittens (none there, thank you Jesus).

The vet said he thought Luna was about 3 years old and probably once had kittens at one time. Her blood tests were negative for FIV and she was generally in very good health.

Luna was left over night at the vet's for a spaying. I do not wish to have any kittens around the place (remember, Shadow is a tomcat with all of his parts intact). All of the vet techs fell in love with Luna. They couldn't get over how relaxed she was and how pretty she was.

The vet's office called this morning to say Luna went through her surgeries with flying colors.

SURGERIES!?!?

As Luna was sedated for the spaying, the vet felt something in her right back leg. It was hard and round. What he removed was a BB. Apparently Luna had be shot during her time outside. Poor baby. She really needed The Feline Underground Railroad's help.

Yam and I picked Luna up from the vet this afternoon. As expected she was a little loopy and her pupils were dilated. Per the doctor's orders we have to keep her indoors and quiet for 10 days. We have her in the cottage. The Colonel, Yam and I are taking shifts to look after her. We are to give her pain meds every 12 hours for three days.

Luna is not being completely quiet. She is poking around and jumping up on things. Thank God for her pain meds, they can make her a bit sleepy.

The jury is still out on whether we will keep Luna (If no home can be found for her then we will. We have left a picture of her at the vet's and it says she is free to a good home). I am sure that The Feline Underground Railway will see more cats (and possibly a dog or two) in the future and as much as we would like to keep each and every cat, we can't. The most we can do is feed and shelter the "Fugitives" for a while until they find a new home.

Her Teen Years Are Behind Her

2011-07-22T05:48:00.000-04:00

Happy 20th Birthday Yam!

The Next Best Thing To Being There

2011-07-08T21:16:00.000-04:00

Darling-Sister-In-Law, who lives and works on the Space Coast, called yesterday to tell us her name was pulled in a drawing for a ticket to watch the final Space Shuttle launch.

The ticket was a "vehicle ticket" which allowed her to drive her vehicle, with passengers, to a viewing site. She called to ask if we wanted to be some of those passengers.

There was a chance that the shuttle lift-off would be scrubbed because of weather conditions and if it was scrubbed, the lift-off would be pushed to two days later. So, The Colonel and I checked the weather situation and it did not look good. We hedged our bets that the launch would be scrubbed. We planned to make the 3-hour drive this weekend to watch the shuttle launch on Sunday. We lost the bet (blast it all)...the Space Shuttle Atlantis had lift-off as scheduled, today at 11:26 AM.

Since we weren't going to watch the launch in person we did the next best thing...Yam and I turned on the NASA channel. We also hit record on the DVR, as The Colonel was not at home to watch with us and we knew he would want to see this historical Space Shuttle launch. I grabbed my camera so that I could take pictures of the television screen (I knew I would need them for this blog entry...ever the Blogger).

30 years and 135 missions have gone before this final Space Shuttle launch at Kennedy Space Center. This is the 33rd mission for the Space Shuttle Atlantis and its first was on October 3, 1985.

Atlantis' 4-person crew will be on a 12-day mission. They are heading to the International Space Station and hauling a module packed with nearly 10,000 pounds of supplies and equipment. One-third of that is food. These supplies will last the International Space Station through next year.

An estimated one million people were watching the launch at the viewing sites. Yam and I looked for Darling-Sister-In-Law on the television but didn't see her. She called us after the launch to tell us it was cloudy there and some of her pictures were not as good as she would have liked and she was stuck in lots of traffic with everyone leaving the viewing areas.

I had no traffic to fight and I think I got some pretty decent photos of the launch considering I snapped them from the television screen. Sitting at home, I was able to get close up shots of Atlantis.

The launch.

I also got shots of Atlantis in space. Here is one of the booster rockets separating from the shuttle.

This is a shot of the shuttle separating from the main booster.

As soon as we saw Atlantis leave the launchpad, Yam and I ran outside to see if we could see the shuttle in the sky from our backyard. We have seen launches in the past but not today, it was too cloudy.

Huge expenses to maintain and fly the shuttle fleet has caused some to think the fleet has outlived its usefulness. Some argue that the shuttles should be flown until something new was in place to guarantee our nation's leadership position in space and human access to space, not to mention the thousands of jobs lost at Kennedy Space Center (better get more of those "Shovel-Ready" jobs ready Mr. Obama).

When Atlantis returns to Earth its new home will be a $20 million building at the Kennedy Space Center Visitor's Complex.

Atlantis is scheduled to return on July 20th, G-Pa's (aka My Favorite Father-In-Law) birthday. On the same day in 1969, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. Just thought that was a neat bit of trivia to share.

I would have liked to have seen this historical shuttle launch in person, but watching it on television was the next best thing to being there.

This is what an end of an era looks like from where Yam and I sat.

Kayaking Freedom Swim 2011

2011-07-06T18:07:00.001-04:00

The Freedom Swim takes place here every Fourth of July. This year was the 20th annual swim. In 2008, MSNBC.com named the Freedom Swim in its Top 10 Quirky Fourth of July Activities list.

Hundreds of people make the one and a half mile journey across the river. Not everyone swims the Freedom Swim.

We have watched the Freedom Swim for four years from the the river's edge (or standing over the river on a bridge) and last year The Colonel and I made plans to participate in this year's swim.

Our plans never included actually swimming the Freedom Swim, only kayaking it. We made good on our plans this year.

The morning of the Fourth of July dawned with clear skies and The Freedom Swim would begin at 9:00 AM.

G-Pa (The Colonel's dad) and Yam were going to kayak with us too. G-Ma and Darling-Sister-In-Law were staying on dry land to watch and take some pictures.

With the truck bed loaded with kayaks, The Colonel, G-Pa, Yam and I crossed the bridge to get to the north side of the river where the Freedom Swim would begin. Coming off of the bridge, we could see that the roadsides were littered with parked vehicles and people making their way to the river's edge. Some with kayaks and some without. We had a place further up the road picked out to park the truck, but I began to wonder if that would be too crowded also.

There were a few parking spots left.

Once we were all in our kayaks, we paddled our way south to the starting point of the Freedom Swim, at the base of the bridge. Once there, we saw hundreds of people in the water. There were 300 swimmers (by newspaper accounts), several kayakers, a few paddle boarders, one paddle boat and many regular boaters. We were all waiting for the swim to begin.

At 9:00 AM the starting horn sounded and all at once the swimmers began to splash their watery way across the river.

Those of us not swimming had to be very mindful of the swimmers (it is the Freedom Swim after all). There were shouts of, "swimmer behind you" or "swimmer to left or right of you". I had one swimmer call to me and ask a favor of me.

"Hey, could you tell my friend way over there, in the black swimming suit, that she needs to veer to the left? The tide is taking her away from where she needs to be heading."

I broke away from my little kayak pack of The Colonel, G-Pa and Yam to deliver the message. The girl in the black swimming suit (sounds like a Dutch Masters painting) was very grateful.

Message delivered, I rejoined my family.

Kayaking across the river, in the middle of the Freedom Swim, was fun. The river wasn't choppy, so the paddling wasn't tiresome. It was interesting to see the different swimmers and how they chose to swim across the river. Some swimmers wore masks, snorkels and fins. Some had only goggles on. One lady swimmer said it was hard to see where she was going because her goggles kept fogging up. Some swimmers used kick boards to swim with and some used noodles. One man had hand swim fins that made him look like he had webbed fingers to help him through the water.

I saw all kinds of swimming methods deployed by the swimmers: Butterfly, Breaststroke, Sidestroke and Backstroke.

I saw young swimmers and old swimmers. One young girl about 16, asked me if she could hold onto my kayak for just a couple of minutes. I said of course. She needed to fix her goggles before she and her friend could continue swimming.

The newspaper said that a 65-year old man from Michigan, who had had a heart attack just three months prior, participated in the swim. He told the reporter that he had someone in a kayak following him and she had his Nitro-Glycerine tablets with her in case he would need them. I think I passed that man in my kayak. I remember seeing an elderly swimmer and thinking, "I sure hope he can make it, he looks tired, and he has a ways to go." He was being closely followed by a female kayaker who looked as concerned as I felt.

Through the entire swim there was a helicopter overhead, keeping an eye on everything. There were also Coast Guard boats present.

Halfway across the river I passed these people. What a way to travel, being pulled behind a paddle boat, lounging on an inner tube, listening to music and drinking a beer.

The current was a little stronger mid-river. It pushed The Colonel, Yam, G-Pa and I a little beyond where we wanted to land. So we had to paddle just a little harder for a bit. The swimmers were all heading towards the wharf of Fisherman's Village. That was the finish line of the swimmers (a 16 year-old boy came in first with a time of about 30 minutes and was followed a couple of minutes later by his 15 year-old sister) and my little kayak group headed just east of the finish line. Other kayakers had the same idea in mind.

G-Ma and Darling-Sister-In-Law were waiting for us as we paddled our kayaks to the little boat ramp. Darling-Sister-In-Law took a few pictures of us as we paddled in.

Our Freedom Swim kayak trip took us about an hour and a half to complete. We all agreed that kayaking across the river was a great experience and lots of fun.

It wasn't the quirkiest activity I had ever experienced on the Fourth of July...that would have to be celebrating the holiday with some British friends in the Florida Keys. As we were writing our names in the air with sparklers I told Graham, "We are celebrating the day we took our country back and we kicked you guys out." and he replied with, "No, we are celebrating the day we got rid of you lot."

Historic Melons

2011-07-05T06:14:00.001-04:00

The Colonel put in a little, raised-bed garden this year. In his garden he has red bell peppers, Tabasco peppers, cubanelle peppers, sweet potatoes, a tea bush and two kinds of melons, the banana melon and pineapple melon.

His grandmother used to grow and sell banana melons (18" long, yellow with juicy orange flesh with a banana flavor) when she was a a young girl, so The Colonel wanted to grow some too. I'm looking forward to trying them.

The Colonel was reading about Thomas Jefferson one day and discovered that T.J. (who was quite the Foodie) grew pineapple melons. The Colonel wanted to try his hand at growing some too.

One of the pineapple melons was about the size of a large softball when the vine it was connected to shriveled and turned brown. We picked it.

I cut it up and we all tried some. The melon is supposed to have a pineapple flavor to it, this one didn't. It tasted more like a honeydew melon and it had an onion-like aftertaste to it. We think it was not quite ready to be harvested but with the shriveled vine we couldn't let it sit there and rot. There are a couple more in the garden we hope will mature properly so that we can taste what Thomas Jefferson tasted.

I am also looking forward to the sweet potatoes. I like them, The Colonel doesn't but he let me plant some in his garden anyway, what a sweet guy.

Spud: Big Man on Campus

2011-07-04T14:32:00.001-04:00

Spud is now an actual college student. His first class was on Wednesday, June 29th.

The trip to becoming an actual college student literally started with a trip...a 6-hour drive to Jacksonville and the University of North Florida (UNF) with a stop, half-way, at Darling Sister-In-Law's (DSIL) house for an overnight stay.

Spud had a move-in time of 9:00 AM to Noon on Tuesday, the 28th and we opted to stay the night at DSIL's house the night before so that we would only have a 3-hour drive ahead of us on move-in day instead of a 6-hour drive from our house. It worked out nicely. Thanks for the use of your home DSIL. Thanks also go out to G-Pa and G-Ma (The Colonel's parents) for the use of their vehicle for the trip. It allowed us to make the trip in roomy and cool comfort (The Colonel's truck has been without functioning A/C for a couple of years now and the leg room in back has gotten less "roomy" in proportion to the increase of Yam and Spud's ages).

Move-in day we were up at 5:45 AM. DSIL was up with us and offered to make us a hot breakfast. We told her we appreciated the offer but that we would get something on the road and that she needed to get back to bed. She had come home around 1:00 AM that morning from a work-related trip.

After our goodbyes, we stopped in at McDonald's for a quick breakfast and hit the road for the second half of our trip up to Jacksonville and UNF.

We arrived on campus around 9:30 AM. We pulled into the crowded parking lot of Spud's summer dorm, making sure not to run over students and their parents who were shuttling their things from car to dorm. We noticed that many students were using a big cardboard box atop a little dollie to shuttle their belongings. The dorm had supplied them, but the number was finite. They were all in use by the time we arrived.

After safely parking, we followed Spud into the dorm complex which looks like a huge luxury hotel (with a "Lazy River" and a swimming pool in back). We walked into the large, crowed atrium. There was a very long line of students and parents with cardboard box-dollies that started in the atrium, ran down a long hall before terminating at three elevators.

Spud's room was on the fifth floor, the uppermost floor. He had to check-in up there first and get his room key. All elevators were busy, so we climbed the five flights of stairs and Spud checked in.

With key in hand, we went to Spud's room. He has his own private bedroom, but he and his three roommates share two bathrooms and a kitchen area. His bedroom is a nice size with a bed, desk and chair, and a chest of drawers with a wire shelf and hanging unit above (not shown in the picture, but is just around the corner from the door).

After checking out the new digs, it was time to start bringing Spud's things in from the vehicle. There still were no cardboard box-dollies available and the line to the elevators was still very long so we would have to carry things up the five flights of stairs by hand.

We made three trips up to the room. Thank goodness Spud did not have too much stuff and the boxes were not overly heavy or cumbersome. When it came time to bring Spud's fridge to his room there was a dollie available. Thank God, because it was a bit heavy and awkward for us (The Colonel and Spud) to carry up five flights of stairs.

We didn't help Spud set up his room. I think that is part of the fun of the whole experience...setting up your room the way you see fit...plus it gave him something to do once we left him.

Before we left, we visited the campus bookstore where Spud picked up a book for one of his summer classes and to do a little shopping for G-Pa and G-Ma (they were feeding Charlotte and Shadow, our outdoor cats, while we were gone) and then we ate lunch at the student union before finally taking a tour of the campus, so that Yam could see where Spud would be going to school.

We said our goodbyes with kisses and hugs and then began the long drive back home. During the drive I would look at the clock on the dashboard to see what time it was and I would wonder what Spud was doing just then. A few times I got a little twinge of sadness, knowing that my baby was being left behind with many miles between us.

We got a call from Spud the next day. He said he had a good first day of class and that he liked his professors. He also said that on his floor of the dorm there are only eight guys and the rest were girls. "That's nice", he said.

And so begins Spud's life as a college student.

Swimming With the Fishes

2011-06-22T20:27:00.009-04:00

I always have a book I am reading. I sometimes read two or three at a time (depends on how engaging the books are). This means I need bookmarks at the ready.

I have quite a few bookmarks on and in my nightstand.

The other morning as I was making the bed I happened to look on my nightstand and saw two of my bookmarks, one atop the other. I had tossed them there a few days prior without giving them another thought.

This is what caught my eye...

Maybe the mermaid wanted to go for a swim with the fishes.

How serendipitous I thought when I saw the two bookmarks together in this manner.

Yam has made me some bookmarks too.

The origami shirt and pants set bookmark. So cute!

The Victorian Vampire Chronicles (a book she was writing) bookmark. She drew the artwork on the bookmark. The four images represent characters in her book.

Oh, by the way, I'm currently reading Dewey, The Small-Town Library Cat Who Touched the World by Vicki Myron with Bret Witter. Not a gripping read (I probably could be reading another book along with this one) but being a cat person I am enjoying it (with thoughts of what my next read will be).

Icing and Urges and Fingerprints, Oh My!

2011-06-11T05:25:00.004-04:00

Coming from a large family, there was plenty of birthday cake each year.

There was one birthday in January and February, two in April, two in May, one in August and three in September.

Once in a while someone would sneakily run their finger through a cake's icing before the candles were lit and the birthday song sung.

I usually got the blame and my dad would always jokingly ask to see my fingers for any incriminating evidence that might still be clinging there.

How and why did this birthday cake-centric, paternal ribbing begin?

Like most long-running family jokes...it sprang from something that happened in my youth.

I was about six, when one afternoon my dad was caulking around a window on the front porch and when he finished he turned towards my brothers, sisters and I saying, "DO NOT touch this!" and then he walked away.

The fact that he said not to touch it and in such a forceful manner made me want to touch it even more.

I have always had the urge to touch or do something, especially once it has been pointed out that it is forbidden to do so (on my honeymoon, in Washington, D.C., I nearly touched the Romulus and Remus statue in the National Art Museum before the guard yelled at me and I embarrassed my new husband. I couldn't help myself, the statue called to me like a siren to a sailor of old. I just had to see if the twins were attached to the she-wolf').

Now, I more often than not, keep this urge in check but back when I was six, the urge to run my finger through the caulk was over whelming.

I stretched out my right arm and with my index finger leading the charge, I ran it through the white, creamy caulk with nary a thought of what consequences would follow.

After my finger left a trench in the caulk, it was covered in sticky whiteness. I began to panic...I needed to clean off my finger, get rid of the evidence of my disobedience.

I wiped my finger on the grass again and again, but still the caulk was embedded in the whorls of my fingerprints.

Just then I heard the angry voice of my father.

"Who did this?"

I didn't want to admit my guilt; I knew what my fate would be. My father lined up all of us kids.

"Hold your hands out and show me your fingers!"

We lined up according to age. I had three sisters ahead of me. Their inspection gave me more time to try to clean my finger off. I put the offending finger in my mouth to wet it and then I began vigorously rubbing it with my other hand. That caulk was going nowhere.

I began to see the error of my ways and my short life passed before my eyes as my father made his way down the line to me.

My guilt was discovered alongside the white caulk tattoo on my finger tip. My father had to look no further among his progeny to find the caulk criminal.

I got quite a well deserved spanking that day (you think that would have prevented my Romulus and Remus incident years later wouldn't you...that urge is strong I tell you).

My Baby Isn't A Baby Anymore

2011-06-10T00:01:00.002-04:00

My baby turned 18 today.

Spud, being an 18 year-old male, has the responsibility of signing up for the Selective Service System. He could sign-up on line, but he is going to the local post office to fulfill his duty like his father did nearly 30 years ago.

Spud's first duty as an adult.

An adult.

Today I became the mother of two adult children (now there's an oxymoron for you) and I felt a little twinge of disbelief and sadness that I am even old enough to own that title.

Talk About James and the Giant Peach!

2011-05-26T06:04:00.000-04:00

Could You Spare a Mother a Dime?

2011-05-25T06:55:00.002-04:00

Having two children in college at the same time is going to mean a little fancy, financial footwork on the behalf of The Colonel and I.

Yam and Spud are doing their part in helping us with this college, cash crunch.

Yam will be a Resident Assistant (R.A.) for her dorm next year. Because she has been chosen for this position, she will save The Colonel and I the cost of her housing for this upcoming year at college. She is also still a Florida Bright Futures, Florida Academic Scholar, scholarship winner which saves us costs on part of her tuition.

Spud has been awarded a $1,000 scholarship from the Military Officers Association of America (MOAA).

We're still waiting to see if he qualifies for a Florida Bright Futures Scholarship (we don't have his final grades yet) so that some of his tuition will be covered as well. Spud plans on trying to become an R.A. eventually too, as well as apply for a naval scholarship later on in his college career.

The Colonel and I have been planning and saving for college for Yam and Spud since before there was a Yam and Spud, but even with that in mind, every bit helps.

Thanks Yam and Spud for doing your part and helping Dad and I financially, in the quest for your college diplomas.

Two Down and None to Go

2011-05-24T10:04:00.003-04:00

I am no longer the mother of a high school student. Spud graduated on May 19th.

No, I didn't cry when my baby walked across the stage.

Maybe it's because I had already experienced Yam's high school graduation two years prior but I'm guessing its really because I have never been one to cry easily and especially not in front of others (looking back, I didn't cry when Yam graduated either and I think I can count on one hand how many times The Colonel has ever seen me cry in our nearly 25 years of marriage).

Don't get me wrong, I felt deeply, the emotional impact of both my children's graduations, what mother wouldn't (I felt a greater twinge of sadness, upon seeing Yam's empty bedroom for the first time, as I came up the stairs after she left for college and I know I will feel the same when I see Spud's room empty for the first time)?

Spud looked so grown up in his cap and gown. Seeing him in it made me feel happy and proud.

He added a little something extra to the tassel on his cap. He has plans to join the Navy upon college graduation so he attached the little anchor.

It is always wonderful to hear your child's name called and see them walk across the stage to receive their diploma. In that instant, those 12 years of schooling seem like they happened in 12 seconds.

The Colonel and I are very proud of Spud and wish him success and happiness always in everything he does.

Soon I'll be the mother of two college students.

19 Year Old Mother(hood)

2011-05-15T03:59:00.001-04:00

The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new. ---Rajneesh

I've just celebrated my 19th Mother's Day!

That is a pretty awesome feat for someone who (foolishly) thought, when she was younger, that she wanted to "break the glass ceiling", be married to her career only and never be a mother (along comes The Colonel, along comes marriage) and when she did marry and discovered that she did want to be a mother after all, that she would need medical intervention to help her start her family (along comes Yam and Spud in a baby carriage).

My wonderful day started out with my son and daughter surprising me with some beautiful carnations and a lovely card.

Yam and Spud asked me where I wanted to go for lunch, they were "footin' the bill". I decided on a local waterside restaurant called Harpoon Harry's (The Colonel would lunch with his mother, father and sister elsewhere).

We arrived at the restaurant a little after 11:00, so we were able get a booth right along the water. The kids had burgers and I had a turkey reuben with sweet potato fries. The food was yummy, but sitting across from my two children was what I enjoyed most about lunch (the fact that they bought my lunch was nice too).

The restaurant is within the same complex as some nice little shops, so we did a little window shopping (mainly Yam and I, Spud suffered in silence, what a good son).

After shopping, we walked along the river's edge. We walked for about an hour and on the way back to the car we stopped at a little playground along the river. Yam wanted to swing, so she did while I sat in the swing next to her. Spud opted out and sat in the shade under some palm trees and once again waited patiently for Yam and I.

We made it back to the car, Yam drove us home and when I got home I took a cat nap on the couch...nice.

As I was napping, The Colonel went out and brought some dinner home. I didn't have to cook on Mother's Day...very nice.

I thank God for giving me what I thought I never wanted, a husband and children, and ignoring the foolish thoughts of that young girl I once was.

Blazes and Bravery

2011-05-14T09:22:00.004-04:00

We need rain. The grass in my yard feels and sounds like Shredded Wheat cereal when I walk on it.

It has been so dry here that there has been grass fires in the area. The other day it was so smoky that it looked like the smog of Los Angeles had transplanted itself here.

The area grass fires got me to thinking about something that happened to me and my sisters, Lori and Jennifer when we were young. Lori was about 6, I was about 5 and Jennifer was about 4 at the time.

It was mid 1960 and my family lived in a developing neighborhood in the suburbs. The houses had big yards and there were large empty lots between some of the houses. We called these empty lots, fields.

Our house had a field to the left and right of it. If you traversed the right field you would arrive at the Muller's yard.

In the Muller's yard there was a huge sand box (a huge pile of sand, really and no box to speak of) and a swing set.

The Mullers didn't mind us playing in their yard. The youngest Muller boy, Johnny, was my little brother Andrew's friend. We never called him just Johnny, it was always Johnny Muller. The middle Muller boy, Tom, was my oldest sister's age. Every girl in the neighborhood had a crush on Tom. The oldest Muller boy, Vic, wasn't really a boy at all, he was much older than the rest of us and we never saw him much. I remember him being somewhat of a hippie (it was the 60's after all).

My sisters and I wanted to play on the Muller's swing set. We walked along the narrow foot path in the field between our house and the Muller's. The crushed grass was dry and straw like under our bare feet.

Lori, Jennifer and I soon emerged from the waist-high, grassy field into the Muller's yard.

We walked up to the swing set and we each picked out the swing we wanted to play on.

We sat upon the white plastic seats and the chains jangled as we grabbed hold of them to steady ourselves. Our little legs pushed against the rutted ground beneath the swings and propelled us higher into the air. The wind rushed past our bodies as we swung faster and faster.

We were lost in our swinging reverie, enjoying the giddiness that swinging higher and higher gave us.

"Fire!" Lori yelled.

Jennifer and I looked to where Lori was pointing. The field between our house and the Muller's was ablaze.

"How will be get back home?" Jennifer and I asked Lori fearfully as we all jumped off the swings.

"Follow me", Lori said, grabbing Jennifer's hand.

I grabbed Jennifer's other hand. I would bring up the rear of our sisterly chain.

"Don't let go!" yelled Lori.

Lori bravely entered the burning field, leading us along the narrow foot path through the blazing field.

Sparks flew into the air and smoke was wispy around us as we ran along the path towards the safety of home.

The path seemed much longer with the field ablaze as we ran hand-in-hand, scared.

Finally, we emerged from the fiery field safely.

Out of breath and full of adrenaline, we ran into the house to tell our mother about the fire.

I don't recall what happened after we told our mom about the fire. Did she chastise us for running through a burning field? When did the fire truck arrive? How much of the field was burned?

I just remember the fear we all felt and the bravery of my sister Lori as she led Jennifer and I to safety.

I think back on that day and wonder how the fire began. Perhaps it was the neighbor boy down the street who was famous for playing with fire (this was not the first field fire) and teasing the dogs of others, causing them to become biters and a liability to the owners. That boy was always in trouble (in and out of school). I wonder whatever became of him (I probably don't want to know)?

Thank you Lori, for being a brave big sister to Jennifer and I when we needed it most.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-05-04T06:13:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-04-27T06:35:00.001-04:00

Butter and Bustin' a Move

2011-04-26T05:52:00.001-04:00

Back in March The Colonel and I were volunteers at the 15th annual Florida Frontier Days Festival.

The festival celebrates the pioneers of Florida, especially those of this area. There were artisans and crafters such as: a wood carver, a scrimshaw and horn maker, a tanner, a spinner and a weaver.

Every year, bus loads of school children attend the festival. The children could participate in all kinds of fun and games as well as hands-on activities. There were sack races, horse shoe games, tug-of-war and marble games. The kids could (for a nominal fee) dip candles, make a kite, braid a rug or dig for fossils. There was music playing and food for sale too.

The Colonel and I had to dress in period clothing. The Colonel portrayed Albert W. Gilchrist, a surveyor who first came to the area in 1885. He later became the 20th governor of Florida and was also a member of the Florida House of Representatives. The Colonel, as Gilchrist, gave a short speech to a group of school kids, telling them about himself and his life. The Colonel was just one of the handful of volunteers who portrayed key people of this area's past.

I volunteered to churn butter that day along with two other ladies. We had two glass jar, butter churns filled with heavy whipping cream. The churns had a geared handle that when cranked, turned a wooden paddle inside the jar, and then that paddle's agitation caused the cream to become butter.

It took a little while for the butter to come (the kids, as well as myself, were a little impatient for it to arrive). There is an old wives's tale that says, if the butter won't come while churning, someone is in love. I told the kids about the tale and I asked some of them who helped us churn if they were in love. You should have seen their faces. "Eeewww," they said.

When we finally had some butter, we served it on crackers. The butter was very light, creamy and delicious. The kids asked why it wasn't yellow like in the stores. "Our butter does not have any coloring added and this is what fresh, real butter is supposed to look like", I said.

The kids and their adult chaperons all loved the flavor of the fresh butter. I thought we would have to add salt to the butter for flavoring, but it was perfect the way it was.

I took a little break from the churning, grabbed a bite for lunch and then was grabbed by the arm and "pressed into service" by two of the other dressed volunteers, to dance the Virginia Reel. The Virginia Reel is folk dance that was most popular in America from 1830-1890 and originated in Ireland and Scotland.

My partner for the reel was Maggie. She had dressed in her own period clothing for the school trip to the festival. She was a good dancer.

We dancers formed two lines and faced our partners. We bowed and curtsied to our partners. Then the head couple sashayed down and back between the two lines and then reeled (taking the right arm of their partner and turning once and then taking the right arm of the next person in line, turning once, and so on) down the line. Next, the head couple lead the two lines in a march then formed an arch for all the rest of us dancers to go through. The head couple then stayed at the end of the lines and the next couple at the head of the lines would repeat what the last head couple did and so on...

It was a fun dance and easy to learn. It made me wish we still had dances like this. What a wonderful way for young men and women to have good clean fun together. Remember having a crush on someone when you were younger? Wouldn't it have been a delicious thrill to be able to briefly touch their hand and link arms together in a dance like the Virginia Reel?

The dance ended before Maggie and I could become the head couple. I think the musicians were getting tired and needed a break. The picture of us dancing the Virgina Reel was in the local paper a few days following the festival. You can see me at the left hand side in my black dress.

After dancing, I returned to my butter churning for a little while more and when the festival ended in the early afternoon, The Colonel and I headed for home.

This year's festival may be the last. Funding issues. I certainly hope not. I had fun churning butter and "bustin' a move" old school.

Anyway You Look at It, It's an A+!

2011-04-25T14:00:00.001-04:00

Yam had an assignment for her college photography class. She had to choose a photo from a famous photographer's works and recreate it as closely as she could to the original.

She chose Dorothea Lange's 1935 photograph entitled, Colonist to Alaska from Minnesota. While Yam was home for her spring break she enlisted the help of Spud to complete the assignment.

They used an old piece of plywood The Colonel didn't need any longer to recreate the background of the photo. They spray painted the wood grey-blue with black accents and then they nailed grommets into the wood to simulate the rivets of the original photograph.

Yam had Spud dress in his leather jacket, black shirt and a cap. She took him outside, put him in front of the decorated plywood and snapped several photographs until she got the one she liked best.

"Awesome! This is very close to perfection!" said Yam's professor. I agree with Yam's professor. What say you?

Colonist, by Lange

Spud as Colonist, by Yam

Mother Did Know Best

2011-04-21T16:25:00.001-04:00

The Colonel told me something the other day that pleased me very much. But before I can tell you what he said, I have to tell you a few things that will help you appreciate why I was so pleased when I heard what I did.

I have always looked older than I am. I think this is partly due to my height. I was one of the girls who always had to stand in the back row for class pictures (I remember one girl who was taller than I was during my grade school years, her name was Barb). I eventually grew to be 5 feet 7 1/2 inches tall; 3 and a half inches taller than the average American woman.

I remember one summer, during my high school years, I was swimming in the local pool when a little girl swam up to me and asked me, "Are you a mother?" I wanted to submerge her little head in the chlorinated water right then and there.

The fact that I found my first gray/white hair when I was a freshman in college didn't help my situation either. I have been coloring my hair ever since. I've been a red head, a blond and now I am back to what I remember as my natural hair color (it has been so long)...a brunette. I have been using Clairol's #12A, Navajo Bronze for a couple of years now.

On occasion, I would whine about looking older to my mom. She said she had a similar experience growing up; looking older than her age (even though she was of average height, she too went gray early, thanks for that gene Mom). She told me that one day my older looks and my chronological age would coincide and then maybe, if I was lucky, I would start looking younger than my age from that day forward.

I think that day has finally arrived...

The Colonel and I attended an appreciation get together for volunteers and instructors for the Life Long Learning Institute (LLI) at the local college. The Colonel has taught some history classes and sits on the board for LLI.

A week later The Colonel had an LLI board meeting to go to and when he got back home he said one of the other board members had paid me a compliment.

"Oh, what did they say?" I asked.

"Well, remember the young couple who were at the appreciation get together, the ones with the toddler?" he said.

"Yes."

"One of the board members thought you were his wife and when I told them that you were my wife they said they thought you looked young, about 8 to 10 years younger than you are."

"REALLY!?!"

I'll be half a century old in September of this year...to be mistaken for someone who is 40 pleases me to no end.

I'll tell you one thing...I'm gonna be coloring my gray hair for a long time yet.

A Camera in Bird's Hand is Worth Three (Almost Four) Bushes

2011-04-14T19:29:00.000-04:00

Florida Gulf Coast University (FGCU) has a President's Lecture Series. The lecture series' goal is to bring compelling speakers with meaningful messages to Southwest Florida. Some of the past speakers were Maya Angelou, Mikhail Gorbachev and Gen. Colin Powell. The lecture series continues to fulfill the university's mission to serve as the region's intellectual an cultural center.

On Wednesday, April 6th the featured speaker was former First Lady, Laura W. Bush.

Since Yam is a student at FGCU, she was able to get two free tickets. She gave the tickets to The Colonel and I. The Colonel in turn gave his ticket to Spud.

Spud and I made a day of it. I picked him up early from school and we headed to FGCU and the surrounding area. When we arrived we ate a delicious lunch at P.F. Chang's. Once finished with lunch, we poked around in the Bass Pro Shop store for a while to burn some time (Mrs. Bush would not speak until 5:30 PM and the doors of the arena opened at 4 PM).

We still had about two hours to burn before the arena opened, so we arrived on FGCU's campus, parked the car in the parking garage set aside for those attending the speaking event and walked across campus to Einstein Bros. Bagels for some coffee and to read our books.

As we were walking across campus we passed through a classroom building and I said, "I wonder if we will see Yam?" As we passed a classroom with it's doors slightly ajar Spud said, "I see Yam!" We would later find out it was Yam's Human Systems class. We would see Yam in that same classroom when we retraced our steps back to the parking garage where we would catch the shuttle that would take us to the arena.

Once at the arena, we had 20 minutes to wait before the doors opened at 4 PM and while we were waiting, sitting outside by a fountain, one of Yam's friends saw us and came over to say hello. He would be working the event.

I noticed a sign on one of the arena's windows stating that no cameras would be allowed to be used during the event. Yam's friend confirmed this.

What!?! No cameras allowed!?! Don't they realize I am a blogger and I need to be able to visually document my bloggable experiences!?! This is an outrage!

I would have to abide by the rules and keep my camera in my purse (as much as I was tempted to snap a couple of covert pics of Laura Bush, I didn't, with all of the cops and security guards in the arena that was a very wise thing. I have been known to snap a few pics when I was not supposed to ).

Finally the doors of the arena open and Spud and I find our seats. We are at the top row and our seats face the stage. We still have one and a half hours until Mrs. Bush hits the stage. As we wait, we break out our books again and read to pass the time. We see others doing the same.

But, before I tell you about Mrs. Bush, let me explain the title of this blog entry...A Camera in Bird's Hand is Worth Three (Almost Four) Bushes.

With my non-digital camera (back then no digital cameras were available commercially) in my hand, I "bagged" my first Bush back in the late 1980's.

The Colonel and I were stationed at McChord Air Force Base in Washington state when Vice President George H.W. Bush flew onto the base in Air Force Two. The Colonel's parents were visiting at the time, so they were with us when we saw V.P. Bush step off of Air Force Two and wave from the red carpet.

There was quite a bit of distance between my camera and the flight line and the camera I had at the time was decent, but the zoom was not powerful enough to get a terrific shot of the V.P. I have no idea where those pictures are now. Thanks to the magic of the Internet I have the following image I can use.

The second Bush I bagged was President George W. Bush. This "bagging" also took place on an air force base; Eglin Air Force Base, Florida.

In early 2002, President Bush visited the base to speak to the troops and The Colonel and I were able to get tickets for the event and we stood about 20 feet from the podium.

The crowd in the hangar warmly welcomed President Bush with cheers and clapping. His talk to the troops (and their families) was very heartfelt and inspiring. By this time the camera in my hand was a digital (plus I was much closer to this Bush) and I got some great shots like the one below.

Bush number three was bagged in August of 2009 (I'm beginning to sound like a Bush Family stalker).

Jeb Bush came to town for the five-year, post-Hurricane Charlie celebration. He was Governor of Florida at the time of the hurricane and he came to help celebrate the recovery that the town had made since August 2004. I was able to get my picture taken with Jeb. With each "Bush Sighting" I am able to get closer to them (OMG, maybe I am stalker?).

Now, back to Laura W. Bush...(unable to "bag" my 4th Bush because of the NO CAMERA policy, I am once again depending on the Internet to supply the pics. Only news media were allowed to take photos that evening).

At 5:30 PM, Spud and I put away our books as the president of FGCU, Dr. Wilson Bradshaw, walks onto the stage. He welcomes us all and gives a brief history of the President's Lecture Series and then he introduces Ambassador Rooney. The Honorable Francis Rooney was appointed by President George W. Bush to serve as U.S. Ambassador to the Holy See from 2005 through 2008. It is Ambassador Rooney who introduces Mrs. Bush.

The crowd in the arena stands with applause as Mrs. Bush walks across the stage to the podium. Spud and I look at one another and we agree it is awesome seeing a former First Lady, especially Mrs. Bush.

From the moment she first begins to speak, her warmth, honesty and humor are quickly evident in her gentle Texas drawl. She says that since leaving the White House she has been reduced to a Bobble head Doll (she pulls the doll from the recesses of the podium and sets it on the podium's top) and that is not the least of it she says...the friend who sent her the doll had bought it and it was on the clearance shelf! Laughter rippled through the arena.

Mrs. Bush told us about how the rest of the family was doing. "Gampy" (Bush 41) was still sky diving on his birthdays, Barbara is doing well and is still her feisty, funny self, George W. is busy with his Presidential Library and all that entails, Jenna stays busy with her husband and work and Barbara is busy with her non-profit organizations.

Laura joked about the tabloid magazine articles that were ever present during their time in the White House. She said she didn't realize Gampy was an alien or that she was moving out of the White House and leaving George. "Of course those tabloids bothered me, but I never let them get to me. I know who I am and I know who George is" she said.

Mrs. Bush told a little story about her life in the White House after 9-11.

A couple of days after 9-11 she and George were lying in bed that night when they heard shouts and running down the hall towards their bedroom. "Mr. President, a plane is heading towards the White House, you and Mrs. Bush need to get to safety!" Laura said she didn't even have time to put her contacts in and that George held her hand as she blindly followed him to safety in her fuzzy slippers.

As First Lady one of her priorities was literacy. She was a former librarian so reading was very high on her list (she has written a book with her daughter Jenna as well as her memoir, "Spoken From the Heart"). Another major blip on her radar are issues concerning women's health. She is a big supporter of breast cancer awareness and finding a cure for the disease. Her mother had breast cancer.

After Mrs. Bush spoke, Dr. Bradshaw sat with her on stage and had a little question and answer session. The questions were submitted by some of FGCU's honor students. The questions focused on Mrs. Bush's concerns of national and global issues of education, health care and human rights. Mrs. Bush also answered questions about her concerns of preservation of national parks and heritage sites.

Spud and I were happy we were able to experience our evening with Mrs. Bush (even though I wasn't able to "bag" my 4th Bush...does this fact make my possible "stalker-hood" now null and void?).

We were also happy to be able to have dinner with Yam and visit with her after our time with Mrs. Bush and before we had to head back home.

A very nice evening indeed.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-04-06T06:23:00.001-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-30T09:03:00.000-04:00

It's All About the Shrimp

2011-03-25T22:11:00.000-04:00

It was Spud's Spring Break.

The Colonel, Spud and I decided to head down to the Ft. Myers Beach area for one day of the break.

We have never been there and we wanted to have lunch at one of our favorite restaurants that now has a second location there.

The restaurant is called Doc Ford's Rum Bar and Grille.

Randy Wayne White owns the restaurants. Randy is a writer and has published many books and has written for many magazines. Doc Ford is a character who is featured in roughly 16 books he has written. The Colonel and I have read all of the Doc Ford books and we have met Randy in person while we lived in Key West (I met him twice) and he has signed two of our books.

One of the other characters in the Doc Ford books is called Tomlinson, a wise hippie who lives on a sailboat in the marina where Doc Ford lives.

Randy's restaurant serves an excellent dish called Yucatan Shrimp (I always order this). It is steamed shrimp in a dressing of real butter, fresh cilantro, mild Colombian chilies and key lime juice (The Colonel found a recipe for this dish on line and we are eager to try it to see how close it is to the original).

Tomlinson traveled to the Bay of Ascension, Quintana Roo, Mexico to fish for bonefish and came back with this great recipe (God bless you, Tomlinson).

A little promotional card stuck in the condiment holder on the restaurant table featured the Yucatan Shrimp. It claimed 'It's all about the Yucatan Shrimp'.

When we left our house the morning of the day trip we had every intention of having our delicious lunch of shrimp and then hitting the beach for a while.

The traffic to the beach was bumper to bumper for several miles. We inched our way to the restaurant's exit which was before the beach exit. Once we reached the restaurant we all decided we would eat our much awaited lunches and then skip the beach altogether.

So I guess our little day trip really was...'all about the Yucatan Shrimp'!

We're Gettin' Good at This Kinda Thing

2011-03-17T01:04:00.002-04:00

The parking area is done.

The last retaining wall (at least for now, The Colonel likes working with concrete block) is finally complete.

We've been having great weather so getting the last wall done didn't take long, just a few days.

When we had the parking pad poured we had the concrete man and his crew dig and pour the footers for the future retaining wall. Thank goodness, been there, done that and I didn't want to do it again for this wall.

The first row of block must be level, that is very crucial. The Colonel painstakingly placed each block and checked for level as I mixed bucket after bucket of mortar.

The Colonel had to build the wall around the existing light pole.

Getting there...

Next the cap pieces were placed.

After all of the blocks and cap pieces were stacked we had to wait two days for the mortar to dry before we could start to stucco the wall. Before we stuccoed the wall we stained the cap pieces first. We did not want any of the watery stain to drip down onto the stucco.

Once the wall was completely stuccoed we had to wait another couple of days for it to dry until we could paint it.

With the last brushstroke of paint the parking area hardscaping was completed.

The Colonel and I love it when our DIY projects come out the way we envisioned them.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-16T06:34:00.000-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2011-03-09T06:51:00.000-05:00

Spars and Stars

2011-03-08T20:17:00.000-05:00

Once, my baby sister and I used a tape recorder to record an episode of Star Trek. I think it was The Tholian Web episode. We then transcribed the dialogue and eventually acted out the whole show (we also would do the same with a Little House on the Prairie episode). I played Capt. Kirk and Spock (being the oldest), my sister played Dr. 'Bones' McCoy (her favorite character) and one of our younger brothers played Scotty (his favorite character). We made communicators and phasers out of pieces of wood nailed together.

We all liked Star Trek, but my baby sister was a huge fan. She'd gotten all kinds of Star Trek items for birthdays and Christmas. She had action figures of Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Scotty, Uhura, models of the U.S.S. Enterprise and a shuttle craft.

One year for Christmas she asked for the soundtrack of Star Trek...

Christmas morning came and under the tree was a package with my baby sister's name on it that could not be mistaken for anything else but an album.

With great excitement she tore at the wrapping paper, she spied the letter S, "Santa" had left exactly what she'd asked for, the Star Trek soundtrack album! She tore more of the paper away and when the last piece fell to the carpeted floor, she sat still, in her hands was a soundtrack album...for the movie...Spartacus.

Spartacus? What's a Spartacus?

Our mom, seeing the disappointment on my baby sister's crestfallen face, said she was very sorry that "Santa" had made a mistake and that she would get a Star Trek album as soon as possible. She made good on her promise.

While my sister waited for the Star Trek album to show up she played the Spartacus soundtrack. Our sister Lori and I would listen too. It turned out that the soundtrack for the movie Spartacus was excellent! We would sit and listen to it, dance to it and be totally enthralled by composer Alex North's musical genius (he wrote the music for Unchained Melody and the score for the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, to mention a couple. He was a prolific composer). His music elicits great movements of emotion. I'd love to listen to that album again.

Sometimes a little mistake can lead you down a road well worth the traveling and your life is made richer by the detour.

What was the impetus causing this little trip down memory lane?

I have been watching Spartacus: Blood and Sand and Spartacus: Gods of the Arena lately and it made me think of the Spartacus soundtrack my sister got that one Christmas long ago. I have never seen the 1960 Spartacus movie starring Kirk Douglas. I have put it in my Netflix queue. When I watch it I will be paying close attention to Alex North's musical score.

Wordless wednesday

2011-03-02T12:56:00.000-05:00

Proud Parental Units

2011-02-27T06:19:00.001-05:00

This is the most recent copy of the Pinnacle. The Pinnacle is Florida Gulf Coast University's quarterly magazine.

I enjoy reading them when they come in the mail. I couldn't wait for this one to arrive in particular. Why you ask? Well, a couple of weeks ago Yam phoned us and with excitement said, "Hey, guess what? One of my pictures is going to be published in the next issue of the Pinnacle!"

Great news! We couldn't wait to see Yam's photograph in print. When the magazine arrived The Colonel and I went directly to the end of the Pinnacle where Yam's photograph was. There was no savoring the anticipation by reading each and every article first, then turning each page in order, until finally reaching the page with Yam's photograph. Nope, had to go directly to the photograph first thing.

Beautiful, nice composition. It was great seeing Yam's name in print beneath the picture. A proud moment.

Something else arrived in the mail a week or two before the Pinnacle did, something that made us even more proud than we were seeing Yam's beautiful photograph in print.

It was a letter addressed to Yam from the Office of the Dean, College of Arts and Sciences at Florida Gulf Coast University. I called Yam to ask her if she wanted me to open it and read it or send it onto her.

"I got a letter from the Dean's Office?" said Yam.

She was a bit nervous, thinking that this letter was a portent of bad news.

It was the polar opposite of bad news.

Yam made The Dean's List for her academic achievement in the Fall 2010. The Dean's List is comprised of students with a 3.5 GPA or better. A great accomplishment!

Congratulations Yam! Congratulations on making The Dean's List and having one of your photographs published in Florida Gulf Coast University's quarterly magazine.

Keep making us proud!

Testing Uncle Sam's Letter Carriers

2011-02-26T06:22:00.000-05:00

Darling Sister-In-Law's house is coming along swimmingly.

The Certificate of Occupancy should be issued in a couple of months and when it is, The Colonel's parents will live in and care for the house until Darling Sister-In-Law retires in five years and moves in.

It has been 20-plus years since The Colonel's parents have had to deal with all it takes to move a household. Moving has a lot of moving parts to it and one of these parts is the change-of-address cards that must be filled out (The Colonel and I filled out cards 10 or 11 times during our 20 years with the Air Force).

The Colonel found a used mailbox, cleaned it up, painted it a bright blue and then we both set it up in the yard of the new house under construction (this is a temporary mailbox, The Colonel's father wants to build a permanent one out of concrete block once they move in).

We had hoped The Colonel's parents could have their mail sent to this mailbox, thus only having to fill out one change-of-address card before moving into the house upon its completion. No such luck. When my In-Laws called their post office they were told since no one lives in the house yet, no mail can be delivered there. Their mail will come to our house first, so they will have to fill out two change-of-address cards before moving into the new house.

The Colonel, Darling-Sister-In-Law and I did not believe what the post office said. We were certain that mail could be delivered as long as a mailbox was on site; it didn't matter if the house wasn't lived in yet.

So Darling Sister-In-Law performed a little test for Uncle Sam's letter carriers. She sent a postcard to the little blue mailbox.

The postcard arrived a couple of days ago. The Colonel and I just had to laugh when we read the postcard. It was classic Darling Sister-In-Law.

There was one hiccup to the delivery...

There was Postage Due of two cents.

Isn't just like the U.S. Post Office...always wanting more money to carry our mail.

Ahhh...Cleaner Floors

2011-02-25T04:34:00.002-05:00

As promised...the story of the rectangle of dirt left within the parking pad and what happened to it.

Weeks prior to the pouring of the concrete parking pad, The Colonel and I had decided on how we wanted the space to look. We wanted it a certain size and shape and we wanted a little rectangular area at the base of the steps to be made from a different material and not concrete. We purchased a few pavers then to see if they would be what we would want in that area when the time came to put something there.

At 11:00 AM, two weeks following the concrete pour, we took those few pavers and with the help of DSIL and Spud, decided on a pattern for the paver layout.

We all agreed that the above pattern would be best. We calculated how many pavers, bags of base material and sand we would need to complete the project. It would take us four trips to the local home improvement store to gather all of our materials.

We prepared the base for the pavers. First we had to rake and level the dirt. We needed to make sure that we had a gentle slope for water run off. Next we put down the base material and tamped it down to make sure we had a good solid base before moving on to the next step.

The next step was putting down some leveling sand.

Once some sand was in place The Colonel started laying some pavers down.

I took over the paver placement after The Colonel had completed four rows. The Colonel used his circular saw to cut the pavers that needed to be resized in order to fit along side the wall. As I was placing pavers, DSIL and Spud or The Colonel would make the trips to The Home Depot for the supplies (our truck could only hold so much weight per trip).

I got into a good rhythm and began to lay a row of pavers down in a decent amount of time (at least for a DIY-er who had never done this before). With my novice "paver prowess" at the helm and the time it took for trips to The Home Depot (and Hungry Howie's for a pizza pickup), we were beginning to burn daylight. We made oaths to ourselves that we would finish the paver project that day, come what may.

I had laid a large portion of the pavers and I (or really my knees) had had enough, so I passed the rubber mallet onto Spud who laid a few pavers so that I could take a break. I took back the mallet, laid more pavers until there were about three rows left. My knees balked again, so The Colonel took over the final rows of pavers.

Daylight was fading so DSIL held a light for The Colonel to see by.

When The Colonel came to the last row of pavers he had to measure and cut them down for a proper fit. DSIL made a few cuts too for The Colonel.

The last paver was laid at 7:00 PM. A full day's work.

A new day dawned on our handiwork. We could see and appreciate all of our hard work by the light of the new day.

128 rectangle pavers

23 square pavers

19 bags of leveling sand

22 bags of base material

1 bucket of joint compound

Total cost in dollars, about 232

Being able to walk from the house to the car (or the car to the house), not get your shoes dirty and track it into the house.......Priceless!

Oh...see that stack of gray concrete block in the picture above? That is our next project. That will eventually become another retaining wall to match the others. I see lots of mortar, stucco, paint and concrete stain in my very near future.

Personal Parking Place

2011-02-24T06:04:00.001-05:00

We have a crushed shell driveway and until a couple of weeks ago, we also had a crushed shell parking area.

The Colonel and I decided to have a concrete parking area put in. We are tired of the "unfinished" look of the crushed shell and tracking shell and dirt into the house. We hired the same man who poured our steps to work on the new parking area.

The first step in the process was to move some earth and grade the area. Pat, the man who owned and worked the machine, we found out, is one of our neighbors.

It didn't take long for Pat to grade the parking area.

The next day the concrete crew came to start their job.

It didn't take long for the crew to form up the parking area.

Next came the concrete truck.

I wondered how the broom coat texture was going to be applied. That is one heck of a broom handle!

The finished pour.

You may have noticed that there is a rectangular space of dirt that has not been poured with concrete at the lower right hand area of the pad...that will be the subject of the next blog.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-02-23T06:58:00.001-05:00

A Visit to the Frozen North

2011-02-18T15:18:00.001-05:00

I have been a Floridian for 12 years now, and long ago donated any heavy winter coats and sweaters to Goodwill. So, when I received an e-mail from my little sister saying that she and the rest of my brothers and sisters in Indiana were throwing a surprise birthday party for our mother's 74th birthday, I decided to get an airline ticket so that I could be there to help celebrate (only my little sister knew I was coming). I began to worry about having enough layers of clothing to survive the single digit and barely double digit temperatures I would encounter while in Indiana.

I called my little sister and asked her to pack a winter coat, hat and gloves into her car, so that I would have something to wear as soon as I was out of the airport. She did, and for that I am eternally grateful.

Before I touched down in Indiana, I had to leave Florida first. It had been at least two years since I had last flown. I had almost forgotten what a flyer has to go through before they even get to their departure gate. I showed my I.D. and boarding pass and passed that hurdle. Next, I removed my shoes and jacket and put them, plus my purse and book into the plastic bins so that they could be X-rayed. I then walked through the metal detector and set it off (I had forgotten my belt with its huge silver buckle). I removed my belt and walked through the detector again with no problem.

I went to the conveyor belt where I waited for my personal effects to reappear after they were finished being showered with X-rays.

It was taking too long. One of the TSA workers told me that they needed to run my purse through again. No problem, I had plenty of time (I arrived at the airport two hours before my flight was scheduled to leave). They ran it through a third time. They didn't like the look of something in my purse, they couldn't make it out.

"Ma'am, we are going to have to go through your purse, please come this way", the TSA man said.

What the heck? The man began to unzip and empty all of the pockets of my backpack-like purse. I felt like a criminal. I felt guilty for no reason. The other passengers in line were eyeing me and the contents of my purse with suspicion.

Once the TSA man had my purse emptied, he wiped down my phone, camera and the entire inside of my purse with three disc shaped swabs (they looked like the ones used to scrub your face with when fighting acne). He then placed the swabs in a machine. I guess it was sniffing the swabs for drugs or explosives of some sort.

The machine found nothing of course. Finally the TSA man said the X-ray machine operator didn't like the look of my phone or couldn't tell what it was. Granted, I don't have a fancy iPhone or Droid, it is just an old flip type phone that has no texting capabilities, but I shouldn't think it would be cause for alarm. Maybe they are not used to seeing such an outdated phone. The TSA man said he couldn't remember what pocket all of my things went back into, so I would have to repack it myself. No problem.

The whole time I am going through all of this, from I.D. check to purse re-pack, The Colonel is standing, watching and waiting, ready to wave goodbye with a look of "What the heck" on his face.

I hope this isn't a foreshadowing of what the rest of my trip will be like. It isn't.

The plane touches down and when I exit the plane and enter the gangway, the ice cold air hits me, I can see my breath and I think, why couldn't my mom have been born in a warmer month?

I spend the first night of my trip at my little sister's house. We have a delicious dinner when my brother-in-law gets home and catch up on things. I then spend all the next day at her house with specific instructions to not answer the phone while she and her husband are at work because it is still a surprise that I am in town.

Tara, my sister's Chocolate Lab mix keeps me company. She is a sweet, old girl. When my little sister and her husband came home from work we headed over to my parent's house for Mom's birthday dinner of chili, cupcakes and ice cream.

I got out of the car and carefully shuffled my way over the ice and snow to the door where my mom and other family members met me in total surprise.

It was good to see everyone and the chili sure hit the spot, especially since I was cold to the bone.

The next day I went out to lunch and did some shopping with one of my sisters, my mom and my cousin, Sara. I have never been a big shopper, but I had fun that day. Sara has always seemed more like a sister than a cousin to me.

That next day, Saturday, lunch out with three of my sisters and more shopping. We had a very delicious lunch at P.F. Chang's. I had fun shopping again...it wasn't the shopping, it was being with my sisters that was the fun part.

That evening, my mom, two of my sisters, a brother-in-law, a nephew and his wife and I went to play some darts at a local tavern. Now that was fun. I won two games.

Sunday was the main reason I made the trip back and braved Indiana's winter cold. My brothers and sisters made reservations for a surprise birthday dinner for my mom (even though her birthday was a few days earlier) at Hollyhock Hill, a well-known and well-loved, family style restaurant. The Colonel and I had our rehearsal dinner there almost 25 years ago.

I like the birdhouse and birds on the matchbook.

Mom and Dad were surprised by the dinner. There were 21 of us altogether. The food was delicious and plentiful. The servers started us out with salad items. One of those items being homemade beets. I thought of The Colonel and wished he was with me. He loves beets (I don't...can't even abide the smell of them). The fried chicken and steak were tasty as well as all of the sides. You weren't leaving that table hungry.

I sat next to my niece, who my sister-in-law says looks like me. My niece and I talked about books and writing.

When everyone had their fill and the dinner was over, we all went back to my parent's house for cake and ice cream. More family members showed up to help celebrate: nieces, nephews and great-nephews. There was a full house.

It was good to see everyone and to meet some for the first time (like my nephew who had been born since my last visit two years ago).

The time sped by and with each day that passed the temperature got a bit warmer, but it was still too cold for me and I was ready to be back in the Sunshine State's warmth as well as be back home with The Colonel and Spud.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-02-09T01:27:00.000-05:00

Rated "R"

2011-02-02T13:05:00.001-05:00

Warning: The following blog entry contains a graphic image which may be unsuitable for some readers. Those under seventeen must be accompanied by an adult.

The past few days have been quite ordinary.

I am feeling well, no coughing, sneezing or vomiting.

I have not done any heavy lifting or straining.

I have not excessively or roughly rubbed my eyes (that I can recall).

The other night as I was brushing my teeth before bedtime, I was looking in the mirror and noticed that the inner corner of my right eye looked different. The color was off; it was no longer white, but a light yellow-orange.

"Hmmm", said The Colonel when I showed him my eye. My thoughts exactly.

I was not having any eye pain and it was my bedtime, so I hit the sack, not giving my eye another thought.

I woke up the next morning to this...

A bit shocking and just a little scary. I called to The Colonel and when he saw my eye, "Ewww", was what he said. Again, my thoughts exactly.

I have never had this happen to me before. I made an appointment to see my doctor that morning. He told me it was a Subconjunctival Hemorrhage, or more commonly known as a broken blood vessel of the eye. This can happen when one coughs, sneezes, vomits, strains or rubs one's eye and sometimes it happens for no apparent reason. The doctor said there was nothing to worry about and no specific treatment was required. Good news.

The Conjunctiva (the clear surface of the eye) cannot absorb the bright red blood quickly, so in about 10-14 days my eye should be back to normal and not rated "R", for red.

The Smell of Pansy

2011-01-31T21:50:00.001-05:00

What do making dinner and a Guinea Pig named Pansy have in common?

Smell.

I was rinsing off some celery stalks so Spud could chop them up for me before I added them to the dish I was making for dinner and as I held them over the sink and rinsed, the smell of the celery wafted up into my nostrils and with lightening speed, into my brain's Limbic System (the part of the brain related to smell and memories) and I immediately thought of Pansy. I have not thought of her in eons. To be honest, I had forgotten Pansy had ever crossed my life's path until the celery smell brought her crashing back to the forefront of my conscious mind.

(Dear family members, pardon me if I mis-remember the events, dates and times of Pansy's stay with us.)

Pansy came into my life, as well as those of my family members, through my little brother Michael. Michael's second-grade teacher asked if he would take Pansy, the school year was ending and Pansy needed a home.

Pansy was your average Guinea Pig, just under 2-3 pounds and 8-10 inches long. She was black and white and I imagine she resembled her ancestors who hailed from the Andes. Guinea Pigs have been domesticated in South America for hundreds of years. They were and are raised for food there (I wonder if they taste like chicken? Awww come on, you were thinking it too). 16th century European traders helped Guinea Pigs become the pets we know and love today. Queen Elizabeth the first had a pet Guinea Pig.

Pansy was sweet. I remember her distinctive whistle. She whistled over just about anything. She loved lettuce, carrots and celery (this is where the smell-memory enters the picture) but she particularly enjoyed eating the grass when we would let her outside. We would take her cage, remove the bottom, place her in the grass and put the bottom-less cage over her. When she finished the grass in that spot we would move her to a new one.

Pansy was part of our family for maybe about a year.

Of all the senses, smell is the strongest associated with memory. My sense of smell is particularly strong/sensitive (just ask anyone in my family). Does this trait make my memories stronger, more vivid? I don't know. I have never experienced someone else's smell-induced memories. I liken the question to one I have asked Yam and Spud in the past..."Am I a good Mom?", to which Yam answered, "I don't know, you're the only one I've ever had." Cheeky little monkey.

I have cooked with celery many times since knowing Pansy, I don't know why this time it triggered my memory of her, I just know it made me smile.

You Know You're Getting Older When...

2011-01-30T06:17:00.001-05:00

I received an AARP application in the mail.

AARP is for "old" people isn't it?

When The Colonel handed me my mail and I saw who it was from I immediately felt it was a mistake and was slightly offended by it. Surely I am too young for this. I am not even 50 yet (I still have eight months left of my 40's) and isn't it for those who are 55 and older (50 and older I would find out)?

I decided to open it up anyway and see what being nearly half a century old could be worth to me if I joined AARP.

If I join AARP for a one year membership it would cost me $16, and if I mail my membership in by March 9, 2011, as a thanks for me joining, AARP would send me a FREE handy Travel Bag.

My membership would also include the following benefits:

1) Discounts on insurance and travel.

2) A voice in Washington, D.C. that will represent me on issues like Social Security (yeah, like there will be any left by the time I am really old), Medicare and consumer safety.

3) Valuable information on living well.

4) AARP The Magazine and the AARP Bulletin.

5) Community Services like local chapters, driver safety courses (I know some Snowbirds who could use that now), and a nationwide volunteer network.

AARP had me at FREE handy Travel bag.

Breakfast With a President

2011-01-29T20:04:00.001-05:00

The museum The Colonel and I are involved with hosted its 5th annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Breakfast on January 15th. This year's theme was "Finding the Common Ground".

The breakfast was once again held in the local middle school's cafeteria. The tables were decorated with blue, green and white tablecloths (there is a reason for this color combo).

This year, it was particularly important that the breakfast went smoothly and was a success because our keynote speaker was the President of Florida Gulf Coast University (FGCU), Dr. Wilson Bradshaw. (FGCU's colors are Cobalt Blue and Emerald Green, our tablecloths were close enough.)

The museum staff has met with Dr. Bradshaw in the past. He has come to the museum and we have gone to the university in order to build a partnership. FGCU is in the county south of here and it has recently opened a satellite in this county. Dr. Bradshaw and his staff are interested in cultivating students from this county. FGCU's Community Outreach Director has joined the museum's board as of last year.

Dr. Bradshaw is very approachable and engaging. When I met him at the museum a couple years ago I told him that my daughter would be graduating from high school and was thinking of attending FGCU. I know that meeting played a part in Yam's acceptance at FGCU; I was later informed that she was brought up, by name, at the meeting for the selection of Freshmen for the 2009 Fall Semester.

I had spoken to Dr. Bradshaw when he and his wife arrived at the breakfast, saying I could not believe that my daughter is already a sophomore at FGCU and that time is passing quickly. He spoke of Yam being a sophomore at FGCU in his keynote speech. I was pleased to hear him mention her.

I also spoke with Mrs. Bradshaw. She is very friendly and easy to talk to. After the breakfast, I gave her the beautiful, floral centerpiece from the head table and she told me that she would have to put it somewhere out of the cat's reach like she does the Christmas decorations. Been there, done that and have the T-shirt!

The museum hosted roughly 275 people at this year's breakfast.

Everyone (those who ate) had to go through the food line to get their breakfast of fried eggs, bacon, sausage, grits and a biscuit, muffin or croissant. There were also coffee, tea, juice or milk to drink. Going through the line brought back memories of my school days (and Adam Sandler's "Lunch Lady Land" song).

Dr. Bradshaw gave his keynote speech once everyone had eaten.

In keeping with the breakfast's theme of "Finding the Common Ground", Dr. Bradshaw spoke of education being the foundation for finding or achieving the common ground between all people. You would expect that from a university president wouldn't you? I do agree with Dr. Bradshaw though.

It was a successful breakfast and we at the museum are pleased to have it behind us. Now starts the planning for next year's breakfast.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-01-26T18:39:00.000-05:00

Laying Down History, Brick By Brick

2011-01-16T19:30:00.001-05:00

In 1885 a Unionist Kentucky Lawyer, Colonel Isaac Trabue, purchased hundreds of waterfront acres in southwest Florida to promote the coming of the Southern Florida Railway. He platted a town there and called it Trabue after himself.

The town is no longer named Trabue but one of its streets bears his name in his honor.

Trabue Avenue is located in the historic district of town and is a bricked avenue. The bricks still bear the fingerprint marks where the laborers grabbed them from their molds while still wet nearly a century ago.

The bricked streets and avenues of this town could have been things of the past were it not for Brigadier General Rufus Lazzell and "Lazzell's Raiders".

In 1985 Lazzell and his "Raiders" stormed City Hall asking that the brick roads in town be saved and not be replaced by asphalt when repairs were made (City Hall said asphalt was a cheaper way to resurface after a repair). Lazzell and the "Raiders" volunteered to pick up the bricks, clean them and stack them before the repair and relay them after the repair. City Hall agreed. The City Council eventually passed a resolution to save all bricked streets.

Since then, 14 blocks of brick streets have been torn out and replaced. The last time was 8 years ago until Saturday, January the 8th.

The Colonel and I were there to help relay the bricks as well as a few dozen others, including General Lazzell.

I handled a couple dozen bricks between my camera shots. Soon the street's workspace became too crowded with volunteers, so I stepped away and concentrated on my picture taking. The Colonel continued working.

Volunteer workers knelt upon the bricks that they had already laid as they placed the next row onto the sandy base of Trabue Avenue. After a couple of rows had been added to the avenue a landscape timber would be placed against the bricks and a man with a sledge hammer would hit the timber to knock the bricks into a straighter and tighter pattern.

There were other volunteer workers who were sweeping sand into the cracks between the bricks.

While The Colonel and I were there helping, about 40 feet of bricks were laid with plenty more to go.

A couple of ladies who lived on Trabue Avenue set up an awning in their driveway and had fruit, pastries, orange juice and water available for the volunteers. They were also going to have hot dogs for everyone when lunchtime rolled around (The Colonel and I left before lunchtime).

The Colonel and other volunteers continued working...

and I continued taking more pictures. I took a picture of this pretty house on Trabue Avenue.

The elderly couple who owned the house were watching the brick laying volunteers from the sidewalk and came up to me as I was standing there photographing their house. We started talking and they told me that their house was one of the original railroad workers' cottages from the late 1800's. There were two others still on Trabue Avenue. They invited me in to take a tour of the little house. It was small but quaint. They told me that I could come back for a visit and coffee any time.

The Colonel and I enjoy living in our little town. We like the slower pace, the small town feel and taking part in community events such as the rebricking of Trabue Avenue. It is nice to know that years down the road (no pun intended) when we drive down or walk along Trabue Avenue, we can say we helped rebrick it way back when.

Although we may not be able to see our fingerprint marks on the bricks, like those left by workers almost a hundred years ago, we know they are there.

New Year's Day With Major Dade

2011-01-05T19:41:00.003-05:00

Two centuries ago all of Florida was a wilderness. It was home to a few white settlers, a few thousand Seminole Indians (The Seminoles began as groups of different Native Americans, mostly Creeks from Georgia and Alabama, who settled in Florida in the early 18th century. The word Seminole is a corruption of the Spanish word Cimarron, which means "runaway" or "wild one" which the Spanish gave the local Indians when Florida was under Spanish rule) and escaped slaves who were given refuge by the Seminoles. Some of the Indians and escaped slaves married and became families, thus creating a group of people known as Black Seminoles.

The slave catchers came into Spanish owned Florida in 1818, and Andrew Jackson (who would later become the seventh U.S. president) and the Regular Army, under orders to subdue the Seminoles, invaded Florida as well and attacked a Negro fort and later Indian villages. This began the First Seminole War.

The following year Spain sold Florida to the United States. More white settlers came and so did more escaped slaves. The white settlers wanted the land the Indians and blacks lived on. When the Seminoles and blacks began to resist, the white settlers called on the U.S. government for help. Soldiers came and built forts. They also told the Seminoles they must leave Florida, it was no longer their home.

Fort Brooke (today's Tampa) was one of the forts built. Tensions were extremely high in Florida years later when Major Dade and 108 men marched out of Ft. Brooke in late December of 1835. They were marching 100 miles north to help reinforce Ft. King (present day Ocala).

Dade and his men were marching with a single cannon. They were wary of a possible attack, and by December 28th they had emerged from the thick swamps along their route and were marching through fairly open pine lands.

The day was very cold and the men were wearing heavy coats over their weapons. Major Dade and an advance guard were slightly ahead of the main column and the soldiers had no scouts out on their flanks.

The men felt more relaxed now that they had emerged from the thickets and swamps.

"Have a good heart; our difficulties and dangers are over now," said Major Dade to his men.

He then promised them a three day Christmas rest when they reached Fort King, as suddenly a shot rang out.

Unknown to Dade and his men, they had been watched for days since they left Fort Brooke and were now walking into an ambush laid by around 200 Seminole warriors led by leaders Micanopy, Jumper and Alligator.

"We had been preparing for this more than a year," said Alligator.

Following the single shot, the Seminoles opened fire from the cover of palmetto and high grass.

Major Dade, his horse and roughly half of the column went down in the first volley. Fifteen rounds were fired by the Seminoles before the soldiers ever saw a warrior.

The Warriors swarmed forward but were driven back by cannon fire.This caused a pause in the battle and the soldiers were able to regroup.

With the break in the fighting, the soldiers took advantage of the time by felling trees and building a triangular breastwork of logs. It was only about three logs high when the Seminoles began their attack again.

Archaeologists later found piles of flattened rifle balls at the site of the log breastworks on the grounds of the Dade Battlefield Historic State Park in Bushnell, Florida.

The battle continued.

When the smoke cleared, virtually all the soldiers were dead. Dade, his officers and 103 soldiers were killed.

Four soldiers, all badly wounded, survived the attack. Two of the survivors made their way back to Fort Brooke and arrived to tell of the battle and another reached the fort before dying. The last survivor was killed by Indians before he made it to Ft. Brooke. Dade's interpreter, Louis Pacheco was either captured by or voluntarily left with the Seminoles.

The attack and destruction of Dade's command is what sparked the Second Seminole War. It was the longest and costliest Indian War in U.S. history. The war would last seven years, claim thousands of lives, cost thirty million dollars and force the removal of virtually all Seminoles to Oklahoma.

On the first day of 2011, The Colonel, Yam, Spud and I watched the 31st reenactment of Dade's Battle. The reenactment was held on the grounds of the Dade Battlefield Historic State Park in Bushnell, Florida.

This reenactment was held on the 175th anniversary of the Second Seminole War (there would be one more) and on the site where the battle was fought almost two hundred years ago.

We met up with one of Yam's college friends and her mother who live in Bushnell. We all agreed that this was an impressive reenactment. We had front row seats, sitting on the grass, behind the yellow rope that separated the viewers from the reenactors. We felt like we were in the middle of the action and that we were actually taken back in time and space 175 years.

Before the battle reenactment and before we met up with Yam's friend and her mother, we walked the grounds. We saw the soldiers' and Seminoles' camps.

We also saw the descendants of Black Seminoles.

This breastwork reconstruction below is built upon the site of the original breastwork that Dade's soldiers built in 1835. This is where the flattened rifle balls were found.

Our trip to Bushnell was two-fold; one of business and pleasure. The museum we volunteer for will be doing an exhibit on the Seminole Wars next season which will highlight Black Seminoles. This trip gave us information and plenty of photos we can use for the exhibit plus, the whole family loves experiencing historical reenactments like this one that bring history to life.

There are a few more Seminole War reenactments around Florida in the next couple of months...we'll be attending those too (minus Yam, she'll be back at college).

When we first arrived at the Dade Battlefield Historic State Park, I took some pictures of the reenactors. One reenactor was dressed as a Seminole warrior (before I took his picture I informed him that my camera would not steal his soul) and after I took his picture I thanked him and said goodbye. He told me the Seminole people do not have a word for goodbye and that the word goodbye suggests that the person you say it to is going to die and you will never see them again.

So, with this knowledge in hand and with the power of Google, I leave you, my readers, with this saying in the Seminole language...

"Enka, Ce'hecares!"

Translation: "OK, I will see you again!"

Happy New Year!

2011-01-01T00:01:00.001-05:00

Ode to 2010

2010-12-31T09:35:00.005-05:00

Another year of blogging under my belt

Blogs telling of what I thought or felt

Typing away, this mother of two and a wife

Still blogging about pieces of my life

Year 2011 lies ahead

More blogs to be written

Too Pretty to Eat...Well, Almost

2010-12-30T21:13:00.006-05:00

These are a box of chocolates from a little shop in town called Swiss Connections.

They are handcrafted by artisans and use only the finest Swiss chocolate, quality butter, aromatic spices and fresh fruits and nuts.

There are 36 different confections to choose from. It is not easy to narrow ones choices down to a few as each confection looks beautiful and delicious.

The Colonel and I had to visit Swiss Connections the other day. We needed to drop off some information for the owner so that she could place an ad in the program we are putting together for our museum's annual Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Breakfast. Well, we couldn't leave without buying some of these gorgeous chocolates.

After purchasing the chocolates we had to make another stop, DSIL's house construction site.

I knew I would want to blog about these edible works of art eventually, so I needed to take a picture of them in an artsy-fartsy way.

The Colonel found a discarded palm frond that I could place the boxed candies on and snap away.

I was getting odd looks from the house builder as I was creating my tableau. To stop him thinking I was a complete idiot as I lovingly composed my shot, I informed him of my blogging and to further pacify him, once I was done taking pictures, I offered him a chocolate of his choice. He chose the mango flavored chocolate. I also offered one to the man who was working on DSIL's house. He chose the strawberry.

I know you are curious as to the identity of each of these confection cuties below, so I'll tell you, starting with the top row, left to right.

Champagne, Peanut Butter Banana, Strawberry

Rum Cake, Peanut Butter & Jelly, Pina Colada

Mango, Peaches and Cream, Tiramisu

Almost too pretty to eat....Almost.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-29T16:47:00.002-05:00

A New Christmas Tradition in the Making?

2010-12-28T17:17:00.011-05:00

The Colonel and I took a day trip about a month ago to a little town near us that is full of antique shops.

We did not come back with any antiques, only the taste of delicious, frozen, chocolate-covered bananas on our tongues, the desire to have more of them and to be able to make them ourselves.

We researched recipes for the bananas on line. We found one and decided to try it. We bought some ripe bananas, peeled them, cut them in half, inserted Popsicle sticks and put them in the freezer. The next day we melted some semi-sweet chocolate chips in a double-boiler and when the chocolate was liquid we added the butter like the recipe said and began stirring. Almost instantly the chocolate became thick and brownie-like and unusable. First attempt...disaster.

The next day we went out and bought more chocolate. Melted it again but did not put the butter in. We dipped the frozen bananas. Delicious, but the chocolate coating was too thick. There had to be a better way.

I found some commercially made, frozen, chocolate-coated bananas in my local grocery store to fill the void until we devised a way to make perfect home-made bananas of our own.

At Thanksgiving, when we had The Colonel's parents and sister here, we all became "addicted" to the bananas. We began to rethink a new recipe for our home-made bananas.

Darling-Sister-In-Law (DSIL) went home after Thanksgiving and began working on a recipe.

She used Smucker's Magic Shell for ice cream. She put some of the shell liquid in a little glass and dipped a frozen banana in.

She then put the bananas back into the freezer. Eureka!

When The Colonel's parents and sister (she brought her little, banana-dipping glass with her) were here for Christmas we put her new recipe into action.

We tried some other Smucker's Magic Shell flavors like caramel (Yam and I thought it tasted like butterscotch) as well as Hershey's Shell (we all agreed that the Hershey brand of shell tasted better than the Smucker's).

We dipped some of the bananas in both shell flavors, delicious! We also sprinkled chopped pecans on some of the bananas, excellent!

The biggest hurdle in our banana production was a way to keep the bananas upright and separated from one another while in the freezer. I took two Styrofoam food plates (the ones with separate food compartments) and stapled them together so that they formed a hollow core. I then cut slits in the plates to place the Popsicle sticks into. It wasn't pretty, but it worked (still need to work on this).

Our homemade bananas were better tasting than the store bought ones.

We all agreed that making frozen, chocolate-covered (and nut-covered) bananas will probably become a new Christmas tradition for this family.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-25T05:21:00.003-05:00

Constructing a House and a Citrus Salad

2010-12-23T06:25:00.001-05:00

Darling-Sister-In-Law's (DSIL) house is finally under construction. If all goes smoothly and on schedule it should be done sometime in April.

Watching the construction brings back memories of our house being built.

It will be a beautiful house on a nice little lot in town.

On DSIL's lot are some citrus trees. There is a tangerine tree that produces very delicious and juicy tangerines, a lemon tree whose fruits we have not yet partaken of, an orange and grapefruit tree that DSIL planted a while back that have produced their first fruits of six oranges and two grapefruits.

DSIL and I picked the oranges, grapefruits, some of the lemons and tangerines.

We placed the citrus we harvested on what would eventually become the floor of DSIL's screened-in porch at the back of the house.

It was getting near dinner time so we left the construction site and headed back to my house with our citrus collection.

The next morning DSIL and I peeled the grapefruit, oranges and some of the tangerines to construct a homegrown citrus salad.

DELICIOUS!

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-22T06:10:00.000-05:00

Waiting in the Wings

2010-12-19T15:39:00.008-05:00

Spud got some great news in the mail yesterday. The large envelope contained a blue folder that held a letter (and other paperwork) informing Spud that he has been accepted by the University of North Florida.

We are so proud of him and happy for him. UNF was the first choice in his lineup of college preferences.

Spud will be an Osprey, the mascot of UNF.

Yam has been an FGCU Eagle for one and a half years now.

I think it is interesting that Yam and Spud (are/will be) both birds, an Eagle and an Osprey.

Bird's baby birds are on the road to leaving the nest and one day soon The Colonel and I will be empty-nesters.

But for now, the empty-nesters are waiting in the "Wings".

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-15T06:45:00.001-05:00

Channeling Jackson Pollock

2010-12-13T19:22:00.007-05:00

I think I have been channeling Jackson Pollock for some time now. He was an American artist who was a major figure in the abstract expressionist movement.

This is one of his pieces.

And this is my shirt after lunch a few days ago.

This seems to happen to me quite a lot...so much so that I bought myself an adult sized bib at an arts and crafts show a while back. The bib covers my entire front, all the way down to my waist.

Yam, Spud and The Colonel laughed at me when I bought it. I promised them I would only wear it while at home. It has saved a few shirts since I purchased it.

Sure wish I had it on during lunch the other day and I sure hope the stains come out of my shirt.

Bringing Home the Bacon

2010-12-09T06:21:00.002-05:00

I saw this box of Aplets & Cotlets in a lovely, holiday display in my local grocery store's produce section.

I just had to buy a box and bring it home.

Aplets & Cotlets are not my favorite sweets. They are very similar to, if not indeed actually Turkish Delight candies which I could take or leave (obviously I couldn't leave them this time). The founders of Aplets & Cotlets were two Armenian immigrants who settled in Cashmere, Washington in 1920, so my guess is that the sweets are indeed Turkish Delight candy with a catchy, Americanized name.

Seeing the box took me back to the 1989 holiday season and the only time I "brought home the bacon" since becoming The Colonel's wife.

The Colonel and I had an understanding that I would not work (to me, work is a four-letter word) outside the home once we were married unless our finances dictated it a necessity. It never became a necessity, thank God. I have always been a stay at home wife and mother. According to mom.salary.com, all my duties as a stay at home mom (and wife) would equate to an annual salary of $117,867.00. That's a lot of "Virtual Bacon" being brought home.

Which brings us back to the only time I brought home the "real" bacon back in 1989.

A friend of mine was working for Liberty Orchards, the company that makes Aplets & Cotlets, and it was the height of the Christmas Season and she needed help with setting up displays in stores. We worked together for about 3 weeks.

In the trunk of Lisa's car were cases of Aplets & Cotlets as well as cardboard display towers we had to build once we arrived in the stores (put tab A into slot B). Lisa would talk to the store manager first and ask them where they wanted us to build the candy display. Usually they wanted us in the produce section but sometimes they would put us at the end of an isle, the end cap, a highly coveted area in stores.

I remember one set-up in particular in a K-Mart store. Lisa was on her knees on the floor, putting the finishing touches on the cardboard display tower as I was opening a case of candy, getting it ready for the tower, when a young man with Down's Syndrome came up to Lisa and started petting her hair (I really couldn't blame him, Lisa had long, thick, wavy hair, it was beautiful). As he was petting Lisa's hair he informed me that Lisa was his girlfriend. The tress touching lasted a few minutes until the young man's mom arrived and pulled him away without a scene. Lisa was a real trooper about it.

I made around $900.00 dollars helping Lisa out.

The Colonel likes to lovingly tease me about not working outside the home except for that one time, 21 years ago...according to my ciphering, I'm worth more being a stay-at-home-mom and wife.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-12-08T06:15:00.000-05:00

Robert Roberta

2010-12-05T19:44:00.008-05:00

Last week on Friday I was in the doctor's office. I was there because it felt like I had an ear infection coming on and the weekend was definitely coming on and I always seem to get sick over the weekend when doctors' offices are closed and I wanted to preemptively strike any illness before the weekend hit (I didn't thank God, turns out I just needed an over-the-counter antihistamine to help clear my ear canals).

As I was sitting in the waiting room, a patient came in. From the corner of my eye I sensed that something was different about this person. Without being rude, I chanced a longer, surreptitious glance and determined what the difference was.

My mind instantly fixated on a line from Bob Seger's ballad, Turn the Page.

Most times you can't hear 'em talk,
other times you can.
All the same old cliches
"Is that a woman or a man?"

It was a Transsexual. Male to Female.

Her name was Roberta.

I gleaned this information from the fleeting conversation the girl at the front desk had with Roberta as Roberta signed in.

"Hi Roberta, how are you today?" said the cheery front desk girl.

"Not doing too well," answered Roberta in a low octave.

"I bet you're enjoying this cooler weather so that you can wear cute sweaters," cheery girl said.

No reply from Roberta (she probably wasn't feeling chatty from not doing too well and all).

Roberta had on a gray, long-sleeved sweater, an ankle-length, denim skirt and cute (albeit larger than normal women's shoe size) sandals; kinda Roman-esque.

Roberta's hair was shoulder length, an ash blond with a little curl to it. I was sitting when I saw her, but I guessed her to be around 5'10" and about 60 years old (gosh, I feel like I'm giving the cops the description of some perp).

I couldn't take a picture of Roberta, but she looked similar to Stu Rasmussen, an Oregon Mayor. Roberta was wearing glasses if I remember correctly (remember I didn't want to appear rude and stare too long).

Seeing Roberta was a little jolting, for a moment.

I had hoped I, as an adult, and one who had lived in Key West for 3 and 1/2 years and saw much gender-bending going on, would not have blinked an eye when Roberta made her entrance.

Maybe it was the human nature that is hardwired into all of us that made me blink; the nature that causes us to desire and expect that males are male and females are female and never the twain shall meet. Maybe I had been away from Key West too long.

I think people like Roberta are courageous and I hope she is happy now.

I hope she is feeling better now and that it wasn't anything serious enough to ruin her weekend.

It Runs in the Family

2010-12-01T23:35:00.002-05:00

A few months ago I wrote a blog entry about my dear friend's knitting design making the cover of a national magazine called, Creative Knitting.

Well, her daughter has made the cover of Kiki magazine. It is a great magazine for girls with style and substance (where was this magazine when my own daughter was younger?).

The magazine is sold in many bookstores across the country (as well as Canada, for one dollar more, as I gathered from the cover).

As soon as I found out about The Young Lady and her cover debut, I went out a purchased a copy of Kiki.

The Young Lady's likeness is also found within the pages of the magazine.

The Young Lady and Yam share the same birth date...so, in a convoluted sort of way, I am feeling a bit of a mother's pride for The Young Lady and her cover girl status. For all of that, I know my feelings are a mere trifle compared to those of my dear friend.

Congratulations to The Young Lady!

Happy Thanksgiving!

2010-11-25T02:08:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-24T01:48:00.003-05:00

The Real Fountain of Youth or Eastern Europe?

2010-11-21T09:16:00.001-05:00

Two years ago, on our anniversary, The Colonel handed me this Golden Ticket (of his own making) entitling me to a spa day, gourmet lunch included, at Warm Mineral Springs. The ticket has been stuck to my fridge the whole time, until today (Monday, November 15), when I cashed it in and The Colonel and I visited the springs.

On the bottom of the ticket it states; no rain checks, offer not good in conjunction with other offers, offer expires without notice, redeem for cash value of $1.35 (Canadian).

Thank God The Colonel did not void my Golden Ticket due to my procrastination.

First a little history and stats about Warm Mineral Springs...

In 1942, the Director of Health Foundation Washington, D.C., Jonas E. Miller, officially declared that after extensive research of the available historical accounts, Warm Mineral Springs is the real Fountain of Youth.

Then in 1958, retired Army Colonel, William R. Royal, an an underwater archeology enthusiast, moved to Florida. He explored many under water caves around the state looking for sharks and prehistoric fossils.

He dove the waters of Warm Mineral Springs and discovered stalactites and stalagmites of an underwater cave. After entering the cave he found a bone from a Saber-Toothed Tiger and a human skull with the remains of brain matter still inside. Both the bone and skull were carbon dated at 10,000 years old. The skull was later identified as that of a 16 to 19 year old female.

10,000 years ago Warm Mineral Springs was a dry sink hole with Colonel Royal's yet to be discovered cave about 65 feet down inside and around 8,000 years ago and the end of the last Ice Age, water began to fill up the sink hole to its current level.

This drawing gives you an idea of the different levels of the spring.

This is an aerial view of Warm Mineral Springs.

The miracle waters of Warm Mineral Springs contains 51 minerals; the highest mineral content in America. The waters boast restorative and health benefits. The 9 million gallons of water that flows daily is a constant 87 degrees - perfect for swimming and soaking.

This is what we saw first of the springs, an Old-Florida style, tile mosaic sign. Seeing this, I knew we were in for an Old-Florida attraction treat.

We then entered a tiled tunnel, paid our fee and continued down the tunnel until it opened up onto the grounds of the springs.

The grounds gently sloped down to the water's edge. We made our way to the water and grabbed two of the many lavender chairs that surrounded the water and placed them closer to the shore of the springs.

The springs looked like a round lake and there were entry ramps at certain points around the shoreline.

The Colonel and I didn't get into the water straight away. We sat in our chairs, reading and people watching. There was tranquil, spa-like music being played over speakers on the grounds. It was relaxing, sitting alongside the water, warm sunshine on our shoulders and listening to the music.

The pull of the water began to be too much for me (just like it always did when I was a child at our family's lake house). "I'm going in," I told The Colonel. He was right behind me.

I grasped the metal rail as I walked down the ramp that sloped down into the warm water. My feet left the ramp and landed on the sandy (with an occasional rock) bottom.

The water was 87 degrees, cooler than body temperature, so it took a little bit of getting used to, and then it was perfect. Because it is a Florida spring, the water had a bit of a sulfury smell to it. I also thought it smelled a bit like chicken broth so I told The Colonel the water reminded me of egg drop soup. I was floating in a huge bowl of egg drop soup! After a while you got used to the smell. Some of the water splashed onto my lips and I discovered it had a slightly salty taste to it.

The shallow part of the spring was separated from the bottomless deep part by a floating rope (refer to the aerial photo of the spring). Most swimmers/floaters stayed in the shallow area, moving in a clockwise fashion. The Colonel and I ventured into the deep area. I was more buoyant than The Colonel. I do not know if this was due to my body's reaction to the 51 minerals or my adipose tissue (of which I have more than The Colonel does, so my money is on the adipose tissue theory). The Colonel needed a pool noodle to help him float better, but this being our first visit, we did not think to bring one as many of the others there did. Noodle-less, we made our way back to the shallow area.

Floating clockwise in the shallow area, The Colonel and I caught snippets of the conversations of our fellow floaters. If we closed our eyes we would have sworn we were in Russia or the Ukraine. Nearly every person there was foreign (with an average age of 68). We did hear two couples not speaking Russian, they were speaking German. We also heard three ladies speaking English. They were commenting on the number of non-English speakers at the springs. As I floated by I verbally agreed with her. She was shocked saying, "I didn't think you could understand me." I don't think I look Eastern European...maybe it was my "swvim-vear"?

Remember, my Golden Ticket included a gourmet lunch, so after a bit of soaking, we got out of the water to dry off before lunchtime.

On the grounds is a little restaurant. I ordered a Talapia (type of fish) Reuben. I love Reubens. This fish dish was interesting, but I think I prefer my Reubens with corned beef. The Colonel had a starter of Borscht, a soup of Ukrainian origin (how could they not serve it with all of the Eastern/Central Europeans floating outside and eventually working up an appetite). The Colonel liked his soup. I tasted it, it was Okay, I guess, I don't like beets like The Colonel does. It sure was a pretty color though.

After lunch (without waiting an hour), we went back into the water. It was relaxing, slowly floating around the spring. There was a slight current that gently pushed us along.

We spent about 4 and a half hours at Warm Mineral Springs. It was a very nice day and a great experience to be able to take a dip in the real Fountain of Youth. So glad I finally used my Golden Ticket.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-17T08:08:00.000-05:00

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-10T06:07:00.000-05:00

Better Than The Big Easy's

2010-11-09T06:49:00.001-05:00

The Colonel and I made the most delicious Red Beans and Rice for dinner the other day.

The preparation for this dinner started 24 years and three days before we served it at our table.

Let me explain.

In November of 1986, one month after The Colonel and I were wed, we made the trip to the very first duty station of our 20 years with the U.S. Air Force.

We began our trip in the state of our births, Indiana. We packed all of our meager, newlywed belongings in our new Nissan truck and towed my fully packed, little, black, Ford Escort behind.

Our final destination would be a tiny town in Texas (I know, nothing in Texas is supposed to be tiny).

We made a stop along the way in New Orleans. It was our first time in "The Big Easy". We fell in love with the city and had our first authentic red beans and rice in the heart of the Vieux Carre, or the French Quarter.

We enjoyed the delicious local dish very much. It was spicy with just a bit of heat to it and tasted a little exotic to our Midwestern palates.

Throughout the years we have tried many different recipes and nothing seemed to come close to that dish of red beans and rice we had in New Orleans 24 years ago.

Once in a while we like to watch Food Network's show called Good Eats, with Alton Brown. I think he is funny. We happened to be watching the day he had a recipe for red beans and rice.

Could this finally be the elusive red-beans-and-rice-recipe-holy-grail we had been searching for, for so long? I faithfully jotted down each ingredient and step to the recipe (the link at the beginning of this blog will take you to the recipe, thus saving me loads of typing).

Mr. Brown said what makes this recipe New Orleans authentic is the pickled pork.

It would take three days for the pork to pickle. When we pulled the pork out of the brine we had made three days prior it wasn't a pretty sight. Pickled pork is pale (I was beginning to doubt Alton Brown's culinary wisdom).

The Colonel and I continued to follow the recipe.

Twenty-four years, three days and many different recipes later we had indeed found the Holy Grail. This little bowl of gastronomical heaven was proof (please forgive us our temporary shadow of doubt Mr. Brown).

Our red beans and rice were much better than The Big Easy's.

Ils sont tres bon; ils etaient tres delicieux!

Have no fear New Orleans, we will visit you again one day and eat some of your red beans and rice. Although ours are more delicious, we can't create the ambiance of the French Quarter and we have not mastered your praline and beignet recipes.

Fossiling With My Fella

2010-11-04T08:16:00.000-04:00

We haven't had any rain around here for nearly a month and it is still our rainy season (as I write this, we are finally getting some much needed rain).

Everything is dry and the level of the Peace River's water has dropped.

This dryness has been hard on plants and yards but it is perfect for fossil hunting along the river and its tributaries, like the Charlie Apopka.

Last week The Colonel and I packed up the kayaks and made for the part of the Peace River that is north of us. The river was so low in spots that we had to get out of our kayaks and pull them behind us or leave them completely behind us as we walked the couple inches of water covering the riverbed.

As we walked the river, we spied many remnants of fossilized Dugong rib bones. These bones were larger than those we have found in the past. (The three smaller rib bones next to the dollar bill are those we found earlier and the larger ones are the ones we found during this fossil hunting trip).

We couldn't believe the size of some of these fossils. These are just pieces of the rib bones. We imagined what an entire rib bone would look like. The animal they came from must have been gigantic.

I am holding the tip of a rib bone in my hand below.

The circumference of some of the fossilized rib bones was nearly that of a soda can.

The Colonel found this vertebra bone. It is roughly the size of a coffee cup.

I found this part of a leg bone. The larger end of the leg bone is about the size of my fist.

The Colonel and I also dug down into the riverbed and found a few sharks teeth.

No Megalodon teeth...yet.

I wouldn't mind finding one like this lady is holding.

Even though we did not unearth anything like that pictured above, we had a terrific day.

We will be entering the real dry season soon and I look forward to lower water levels on the Peace River as well as the Charlie Apopka so that I can go fossiling with my fella again.

Wordless Wednesday

2010-11-03T06:00:00.001-04:00

Halloween 2010

2010-11-01T14:46:00.012-04:00

The Colonel and I walked the streets of our town's historic district again this year for Halloween. It has become a tradition.

Hundreds of people bring their children to go Trick-or-Treating along the historic district's streets. Hundreds more are like the Colonel and I, people watching and admiring the Halloween decorations of the houses.

We love seeing all the kids in their costumes.

Sometimes I think it is more fun to see the adults in their costumes.

The Castaway:

Cruella DeVille:

A couple as some of Tim Burton's characters:

Some of the house decorations:

Norfolk Trip: Day Seven

2010-10-27T07:49:00.001-04:00

Final day.

Final breakfast at the navy mess hall.

When we get back to the barracks it is time to pack our things and get the barracks ready for inspection.

The cadets are in charge of cleaning the barracks (Lorrie and I swept our rooms). The girls have cleaned the barracks so that we leave it in better condition than we found it. The male cadets do the same.

A Sergeant from the Virginia National Guard performed the inspections and both barracks passed with flying colors.

Time to load up the bus.

We watch movies and sleep on the way home. I must have slept soundly for a while because I missed bus driver Tom's departure and his replacement driver take over. We stop for dinner in South Carolina.

Back on the road again and back to sleep. I sleep soundly again, miss all of Georgia and awaken when the bus pulls onto the side of the highway.

Our poor bus has finally given up the ghost. The transmission will not engage any longer. Some sort of electrical problem I think (I'm about as good a mechanic as I am a submariner). We are just south of Orlando and it is 5:00 a.m.

As we are sitting roadside, back home at 5:00 a.m., The Colonel is just waking up to his alarm clock and having some breakfast. Our bus was scheduled to arrive home at 6:00 a.m. As he is eating his breakfast he says to himself, "Because I'm up this early, I bet they'll have some bus trouble and not arrive on time." Just as he finishes this thought his phone rings and its me telling him that we are stuck roadside near Orlando and we will be getting in around 9:30 a.m.

We have to wait less than an hour for a new bus to show up, when it does we gather our things and get off the bus. Our gear underneath the bus has to be transferred to the new bus and the cadets get that job done in no time. Finally everything and everyone is aboard the new bus and we are on the road again.

I catch a few more winks before we pull into the school's parking lot.

The Colonel is there to greet us. It is good to be back home.

I enjoyed the trip. I saw a lot and learned quite a bit. I enjoyed most of my chaperon duties (there were some emotional outbursts from some of the girls). I met a new friend in Lorrie, and got to know the Captain and Chief a little better as well as some of the other cadets along the way.

Would I do something like this again?

Yeah, probably (but not the roller coaster thing).

Norfolk Trip: Day Six

2010-10-26T08:19:00.003-04:00

Up and at 'em to start another day.

After a delicious breakfast with the Navy and before we headed to the Marine Corps Base Quantico we visited the C-2A Greyhound squadron. These planes are the mail haulers (they also haul people and supplies) to the naval ships. The squadron's nickname was The Rawhides after the Pony Express who hauled mail in 1860-1861.

It was about a two and a half hour drive from the navy base to the marine base. We once again drove through the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel (we'd been through it a couple of times before during our trip). The tunnel is impressive. It goes under the bay's water anywhere from 25 to 100 feet deep and is one mile long.

It was tiled in white subway-like tile. I would have hated to be the one to take on that tile job.

I'm glad that we never got stuck in the tunnel because of an accident or traffic jam...being under all that water...remember I would not make a good submariner!

When we got to Quantico it was time to eat again. This was our first meal at the marine mess hall. The food was good and the food servers were friendly.

With lunch finished we witnessed a K-9 demonstration. It was a brief demonstration due to the wet grass after the rainstorm. The dog handlers did not want the dogs to slip and injure themselves. Following the dog demo we visited the Marine Corps helicopter squadron responsible for direct support for the White House, the HMX-1 Nighthawks.

Our next stop was the National Museum of the Marine Corps. Very impressive. I would have liked more time there. The displays were very realistic and interactive. I experienced motion, sound and temperature changes depending on what battle was being depicted.

We had dinner at the marine mess hall after the museum visit before hitting the road again for our long ride back to the barracks.

End of day six.

Norfolk Trip: Day Five

2010-10-25T10:27:00.001-04:00

After breakfast we visited the Submarine Learning Center.

I do believe that was one of my favorite things on the entire trip.

We were met by a submariner who gave us a briefing on what submariners do and what it takes to become one. It takes lots of math and science plus a certain mindset to be able to withstand being underwater, in a confined space, for long periods of time.

I have to remind myself to breathe when I watch submarine movies...so that disqualifies me for the job, let alone my less than stellar math and science skills, my current age, my gender (although females will become submariners by 2012 in officer billets) and never having the desire to become a submariner in the first place.

I have a new respect for all submariners now.

After the briefing we were taken to the training area that housed the computerized virtual simulator. Spud got a chance to step into the simulator and strap on a some goggles. The computer tech punched some buttons and Spud was then visually transported to the bridge of a sub. The rest of us were able to see what Spud saw in his goggles on a television screen.

The computer could be set to simulate a large number of ports around the world in perfect detail. The tech could manipulate the simulations. He could change the weather and roughness of the seas. He made it snow in Pearl Harbor.

The simulator was voice activated too. The student (or cadet in our situation) could use a handheld radio mike to give orders and direction to the simulated sub and it would make the course changes. What a great training tool.

After the virtual training experience we made our way to a mechanical training system. It was a mock up of a submarine bridge. The cadets sat down at key positions on the bridge and our tour guide, an active duty submariner, set up a simulation for a submarine dive.

The cadets helped with the dive by sounding the alarm (it sounded like a loud school bell) and working the "stick" or steering wheel. The tour guide told the cadet who was at the stick what number the controls needed to read to achieve the deep dive. The cadet would push in the stick until the desired number was reached on the control panel. The entire bridge of the simulator pitched forward and we all had to hang in order not to tumble forward.

After the dive it was time to simulate a surfacing. We simulated the extreme surface like the submarine did in The Hunt for Red October...a steep incline and then an abrupt landing on the water's surface.

The alarm was sounded again and Spud had to simulate blowing the ballasts. He grabbed onto two levers called the "chicken legs" because they resemble a couple of drumsticks.

We had to once again hold on for dear life during the surfacing because the platform's angle was steep. I kinda felt like the crew of the Star Trek Enterprise...remember how they would have to grab onto something on the bridge when the Enterprise was struck by enemy photon torpedoes?

It all felt so realistic. I loved it!

Next...time for lunch and another shopping trip at the NEX and then onto a tour of a real submarine...the USS Scranton.

No cameras were allowed on or around the Scranton so I do not have any pictures of our tour but here is a picture I got off the Internet so that you can get an idea of what we toured. The sub is about 362 feet long and has 12 officers and 98 men aboard as its crew. It has a nuclear propulsion system.

The sub was tied at dockside and was undergoing some cosmetic repairs (painting). We walked up a gangplank and onto the topside of the sub near the back of the sail (that tall black stack on the back of the sub). We continued walking forward topside until we reached the hatch that would gain us entry to the Scranton. The hatch is just in front of the sail.

One at a time we climbed down the ladder into the sub and landed in a narrow hallway, barely wide enough for one person. To allow anyone to pass us in the hall we had to press ourselves against the wall.

We toured the little mess hall and I peeked my head into the tiny galley (kitchen) and we also peeked into the officer and enlisted quarters...again tiny.

I felt a bit claustrophobic just taking the tour. I'd make a terrible submariner. I wouldn't last in such a confined space, under all that water for those long periods of time. I appreciate and am in awe of those who can and do.

Lorrie and I opted not to go down into the bottom deck of the sub, the torpedo room; it was crowded with cadets and was going to get even more packed when the remaining cadets went down.

Lorrie and I exited the sub, and as I was clearing the hatch I scraped my left shin on the hatch's edge. Thankfully Lorrie had some facial tissues (I gave them to her a couple of days earlier) I could use to staunch the blood flow. Could this be considered being wounded in action?

The sub visit was over and we had time to spare before dinner so we boarded the bus for a guided tour of the naval base. That was nice.

Dinner behind us, back to the barracks, more P.T. for the cadets, showers and lights out.

End of day five.

Norfolk Trip: Day Four

2010-10-24T07:30:00.001-04:00

You know the daily morning drill...

Up at 5 a.m., on the bus at 6 a.m and breakfast at the navy mess hall and then onto our day's activities.

First stop...ride in a LCM/LCU.

It is an aquatic vehicle used to transport troops and vehicles onto a beach. We got to take a ride in it around the harbor and then we "stormed" a beach. We were warned to hold on and steady ourselves because there would be quite a bump when the LCM/LCU hit the beach. They were right, even though we had braced ourselves we were still surprised by the jarring. We were jostled against one another.

Some of the cadets got out of the vehicle and onto the beach. Those who did got their shoes muddy and would have to work harder that evening when they polished them.

Our next stop was to see the Landing Craft & Air Cushion (LCAC) static display.

We were not able to take a ride on the LCAC.

The LCAC and its crew of five can negotiate roughly 70% of the world's coast lines. The air cushions allow it to reach areas most ships or boats can't and it can go from the water to the land without stopping. The picture below shows and LCAC in action (the air cushions are filled with air, unlike in the picture above).

LCACs can travel over 46 mph. That would have been a great ride.

Our next stop was to a Navy SEAL brief and pool. There we learned about the SEALs and what it takes to become one (lots of hard work, mental and physical) and watched as some young men were going through an obstacle course in the pool in hopes of being chosen to be accepted into the SEAL training program.

The young men climbed the ropes and swung from them like monkeys and then dove into the water. One man lept from the diving board, did a somersault in air and landed on the cargo netting that was strung up a few feet from the diving board. Impressive. Several of the female cadets really enjoyed watching the guys perform (me too).

Lunch (you guessed it, the Navy mess hall) was sandwiched between the SEALs and our next stop.

Our next stop was to the Coast Guard Station Little Creek. The Captain was thrilled to be there as he is a Coastie. He was grinning from ear to ear.

Our cadets had to be broken into three groups for the station tour. One group was given a tour of the station house and visited the radio room. The radio room is where all of the distress calls come in. Then one group went outside to see the weapons (hand guns, machine guns and rifles) that the Coast Guard uses if they need them as they perform their duties on the water and another group got a ride in the Coast Guard's newest boat (it is self-righting but thank God we didn't have to find that out during our ride) and a tour of an 87 foot cutter called USCG Albacore.

Both boats are used in search and rescue efforts as well as recreational boating safety and fisheries regulation. Everyone at the Coast Guard Station were extremely nice and knowledgeable.

It was time to get back on the bus and head for dinner at the mess hall then back to the barracks.

Our poor bus was getting quite a workout and it was taking a toll on it. Our A/C quit on us earlier in the day (I do believe Virginia was warmer than Florida during our visit, or at least it felt like it). Tom, the bus driver, would get it fixed on day five.

End of day four.