The Balancing Pole

Smoking, Packing Heat, Gambling and Other Stuff

2011-01-21T14:00:00.015-05:00

I stopped smoking three weeks ago because my family wanted me to, I didn't like being treated like I had leprosy when in public places, and stores aren't carrying my favorite brand anymore. Notice that I didn't mention that I quit because I wanted to. I enjoyed smoking my little cigars with morning coffee and a newspaper.

Not really being into this self-imposed deprivation is making it harder cope, but I've been told that if I relapse my family would be disappointed. Oh, it booked my guilt trip long ago and has been itching to send me on it. These people have shown no mercy, trotting out my grandkids, news and magazine articles, and websites as reasons why I should quit. The lowest of all tactics was accusing me of slowly killing Makala, my five pound Yorkie, with second-hand smoke. First, I smoked in the basement and never took Makala with me. Second, she is going to be 13 years old and still jumps around like a puppy. I'd say the dog has a good constitution and will make it to her next birthday.

However, she did suffer the ill effects of me not smoking. I put a little "dress" on her that was too small for the velcro tabs to completely meet under her pot belly so some velcro "hooks" were exposed. She started barking and whining that evening, but she wouldn't come when I called her. When I went to pick her up I realized she was "velcroed" to the carpet! Obviously, I was suffering from nicotine withdrawal when I didn't recognize the danger of exposed hooks and Berber carpet.

I'm quitting cold turkey since my experience with a nicotine patch was a disaster. My sensitive skin couldn't tolerate the adhesive and changing the patch's location daily didn't help. Consequently, I'm covered with bright red, bumpy squares indicating everywhere a patch had been. The directions read that I should wear one every day for seven weeks then change to a lower nicotine dose patch for seven more weeks...minimum. My upper body would have looked like a patchwork quilt at the end of the 14 weeks, being covered with 98 red, bumpy squares!

The Gunshine State

I've written before about the love affair between Floridians and guns. Just about everyone can "pack" here once their application to own a gun rises to the top of the backlog pile. The Florida Legislature has a penchant for taking insane ideas and making them laws. It's about to go off half-cocked again with three pieces of legislation to relax the state's gun laws. (Anymore relaxed and they'd be comatose.) "One law would restrict local governments from regulating firearms. Another would prohibit doctors from even asking patients about guns. A third would permit licensed gun owners to publicly wear weapons outside their clothing."

The first and second pieces of legislature are completely bizarre and would create a myriad of problems not to mention additional shootings. Will our HOA build a target shooting range to attract new home buyers? We have room next to the boccie area. Maybe these areas could be combined and the shooters could fire pellets at the moving boccie players. That would ratchet up the excitement of that game.

Republican Sen. Greg Evers sponsors the totally delusional second bill concerning doctors. The bill would make it "illegal and punishable with a $5 million fine for any doctor to ask a patient about guns, or to include firearm ownership info in a medical record." Think of it this way: a psychiatrist treating a patient for depression would be barred from asking him if he owned a gun or even making a note of it. Think this is crazy? Last year the Legislature passed a law preventing adoption agencies from considering gun ownership when determining the placement of children with prospective parents.

I'm all for the third bill. As it is now, I'm afraid to go to the community card party because I don't know which of those octogenarians are packing heat. If I accidentally reneged, would a Luger be drawn out of a Depends? People's guns should be visible so those of us that aren't armed can be extra nice to those who are. I suspect that there would be fewer shooting because agitators would be forewarned by the sight of an AK-47 assault rifle hanging around another guy's neck.

I don't wish to offend anyone by making light of the gun situation in this state. It's a serious problem that doesn't seem to get any better. I don't vote here so there's not a lot I can do but sit back and watch the yahoos in Tallahassee turn the state into the Wild Wild West. To understand my humor, it might help to know that I'm also the one that tries to lighten the mood in a funeral home. Too much in life is depressing.

And the Pot Ran Away with the Goon

A mental picture is worth 1000 words so fire up your neurons. During the Christmas holidays, a man stole the Salvation Army donation kettle and sprinted across a Walmart parking lot to his car. Two men chased him, but couldn't catch him. He jumped into his car and fled the scene. Did you see this guy dragging the big, red pot behind him? I don't know if he took the whole easel stand, though. How about the guys that chased him? They must have been fine physical specimens if they couldn't snag a thief toting a pot full of hundreds of dollars in coins. It had to be heavy!

The Beautiful Dump

We're riding in the car the other night and hubby wants to talk about the county dump. "It's the nicest dump I've ever been to," he says. A few things pop into my head....Why does he feel the need to rate all the dumps he's visited? Does this man need more socializing experiences? Why would he think I cared about the dump? "A dump's a dump," I say. "Not our dump." he exclaims. I got a full description which I'll summarize for you: separate, neat piles are created for sorted materials; the appliance pile, the garbage pile, the grass & tree branch pile ,etc. He promised to take me there next week. I can hardly wait.

It's Not Gambling

I like casino gambling as many of you know. In a nearby town, we have a high sped shuttle that takes you to a casino ship floating in international waters where gambling is legal. Or, there is the Hard Rock Casino in Tampa. I found out that the county north of us has gambling..or more correctly stated "sweepstakes parlors." You register to play (sign papers saying you are aware that it isn't "gambling," but you know it is.) and get a magnetic players card like at a regular casino. Then you hand over money to buy Internet time which is electronically linked to your name. The room is filled with tables, computers, and big, comfy, leather-like desk chairs. Sit at a computer station, swipe your card, and choose from the menu of online slot machine and keno games. Winning puts "points" ($) into your sweepstakes pot. When you decide to, go to the registration desk and exchange your sweepstakes points for cash.

It ain't gamblin' so say the promoters and the law can't make a case stick. A sting operation aimed at closing down several locations was put on hold, while law enforcement officials continue to look for evidence of wrong-doing that presently does not exist. I'm glad the sting operations have been called off. I would hate to be in my favorite parlor when the cops bust down the door. There'd be total chaos with scooting power chairs, the unconcealing of concealed weapons, and the wrath of grannies who built up their sweepstakes pots. I'd crawl to the restroom and hide.

Flip Flops and Snowmen: FL verses PA

2010-11-16T16:11:00.003-05:00

Hubby and I have been in Hudson, Florida, for the last 5 weeks painting the house I bought (and said I never would) and landscaping the property. There are some things that a western Pennsylvania raised girl finds curious in this state:

1. Booze sold in grocery stores and drug stores. But you can't buy it before lunch time on Sundays.

2. A window in the shower.

3. Flat golf courses where the ball rolls forever, sometimes in the wrong direction, though.

4. Solar lights that actually work because the batteries get 12 hours of sun to charge.

5. River rock landscaping that costs $200+ a ton here and about $24 a ton in PA. It would have been cheaper to bring it with us!

6. Car registration costs more than $100 in FL and $24 in PA.

7. Shopping in 80 degree heat, in shorts and flip flops...listening to Christmas carols and seeing inflatable snowmen in stores.

8. No see 'ums (gnat-like tiny biters, Northerners) that are vicious enough to drive everyone inside.

9. BIG and down-right nasty opossums that dig tunnels under houses.

10. Sink holes that swallow up houses.

11. Green frogs that look like they are made of Jell-o or that Gummy Bear candy. These little buggers can stick to the side of a wall!

12. The frequency of seeing large turtles crossing busy highways...or the remains of the ones that don't survive the trek.

13. Sand hill cranes tall enough to eat out of the birdfeeder I have hanging in a tree. They travel in twos and make a lot of noise.

14. The number of gun and pawn shops along a mile-stretch of highway. I think everyone but me carries a concealed weapon here.

15. The number of parties at which someone was shot to death because guns were in the open and loaded. In PA, we still host Tupperware and Home Interiors parties!

16. The shocking number of public school teachers that have been arrested for sexual crimes involving students or for other offenses. Who screens these people when they apply for jobs? Or are they screened at all?

17. Manatees! I love to watch them and kayaking with them gliding underneath is a thrill.

18. Beall's Department Stores! 50+ Tuesday discounts for us old people....the Beall's Outlet stores where golf clothes are super cheap.

19. Lanais...called a porch or patio in the North. I like the name because it sounds so ritzy.

20. Split living houses...master bedroom and bath on one side of the house and other bedrooms and bath on the opposite side. Hosts and their guests have some privacy.

The longer I'm in Florida the more curious things I discover. Maybe I'll post more another day, but now I must go to Beall's. It's old people Tuesday!

How to Make the National News

2010-02-06T21:42:00.004-05:00

Making the national news is easy if you are a drug addicted movie star, shady politician, sports spectacular, or a suicide bomber. It’s more difficult for the “guy next door” to see his name in print or google himself unless he does something truly newsworthy or …incredibly stupid. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he chooses the latter which is fine with me. Reading about the sexual preferences of golfers, the ponzi scammers, religious fanatics, and wacko world leaders gets tedious in time. Give me a detailed news story of a person doing something stupid enough to catch a headline and I’m as happy as a fly in an outhouse. Some of these adventurers are truly creative in their quest for notoriety. Some of the yahoos suffer physical injuries and/or battered egos so we should appreciate their endeavors. They add levity to life while we are engaged in the serious businesses of making a living, raising children, caring for elderly parents, or slugging our way through job interviews or university classes. I for one say, “thank you” to all the dumb people in the world that have made the national news, and issue a call to others like them to emerge from the shadows and grab their moment in the sun. I raise my wine glass to the likes of the “Balloon Boy” couple and the idiots below.

A man in Mass. stuffed 75 bottles of body lotion down his pants at a Bath and Body Works. Mall Security chased the thief (good thing he could barely run if those mall guys are in the physical shape ours are). The B&B bandit couldn’t bend over to get into the police cruiser until some of his booty was removed. I guess the incessant itching of winter-dry skin will make a normal man do most anything! I wish there would have been more details reported because my mind is flashing some really gross images.

It seems a man, wanting to rob a downtown Bank of America, walked into the branch and wrote, "This iz a stikkup. Put all your muny in this bag." While standing in line, waiting to give his note to the teller, he began to worry that someone had seen him write the note and might call the police before he reached the teller window. So he left the Bank of America and crossed the street to Wells Fargo. After waiting a few minutes in line, he handed his note to the Wells Fargo teller. She read it and, surmising from his spelling errors that he was not the brightest light in the harbor, told him that she could not accept his stick up note because it was written on a Bank of America deposit slip and that he would either have to fill out a Wells Fargo deposit slip or go back to Bank of America. Looking somewhat defeated, the man said "OK" and left. The Wells Fargo teller then called the police who arrested the man a few minutes later, as he was waiting in line back at Bank of America. *(taken from a source that likes nitwits, too) I can understand how this guy would follow the teller’s instructions. Have you ever tried to cash a check at a bank where you didn’t have an account? It’s nearly impossible. Now we know not to try to rob a bank with our note written on the wrong deposit slip.

*When his 38-caliber revolver failed to fire at its intended victim during a holdup in California, would be robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder: He peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again. This time it worked. You gotta love this guy! He hates to leave a job undone. Hopefully, the intended victim seized the moment and fled.

*A 62-year-old man was hospitalized after strapping a homemade rocket to his back wile sled riding. The rocket was a combination of gunpowder, match heads, and gasoline stuffed in a motorcycle muffler. It exploded during a downhill ride at a party he was hosting. The geezer always does something outrageous at his annual sledding gala. Authorities believe alcohol played a role in the accident. Really? Why would anyone consider that possibility? I’m going to sneak into this festivity next year (should be as easy as getting into the White House) because it appears to be a blast.

*A German reptile collector has been jailed for 14 weeks and must pay a 5,000 New Zealand dollar ($3,540) fine for plundering New Zealand's wild gecko and skink populations. The smuggler was caught by wildlife officials as he was about to board an overseas flight with 44 geckos and skinks in a hand-sewn package concealed in his underwear. The article didn’t answer the most pressing question….boxers or briefs? This guy had to have shimmied and shook through the security checkpoint with all those little creatures tucked so close to his privates. I hope they were well-fed before they were stashed in his tidy-whities.

*There's a man in the UK going around sniffing people's behinds. He trolls the supermarket, looking for candidates (or "victims") while they shop. Then, when they reach for the peanut butter, he casually drops down for a sniff and continues on his way. There is surveillance footage of the man, but his identity is unknown. The only description available is that he's "white, clean-shaven, and of medium to large build." Perhaps they should add that his height varies, depending on the height of the butt he's sniffing. This sniffer might be on to something here. Many people I know say they always get stomach gas at the supermarket. The idea is to pass it in one aisle then hurry to another before someone behind you walks into the noxious stench. My brothers used to do this all the time much to my mother’s dismay (she was usually the victim). Maybe this “bloodhound” is just trying to identify the originator of the rank cloud he strolled through in the previous aisle.

You’ve probably noticed that all the stupid people above were men. I didn’t plan it that way. It seems that the majority of news items are about idiot men (go figure!). So as not to be labeled a sexist, here’s one for the girls:

Grocery store cameras caught a woman taking a 24-can case of beer from a cooler, positioning the 20-pound case between her thighs under her housedress, and waddling out of the store. It took a while to identify and find her. Top that feat, fellas! I could never do this…there’s no daylight between my thighs. I wonder what weight training this gal did to get muscles strong enough to hold a chilling 20 pounds. It took a while to find her because the authorities kept watching the camera tape over and over in awe. I'd suggest she switch to drinking wine.

Elin Teed-Off; Tiger Ran For Cover

2009-12-02T16:49:00.007-05:00

I love a good mystery! Give me some clues I can wrap my mind around and I'll develop a possible scenario. I can't help doing it. I believe it's innate and fueled by my insatiable desire to read at least one mystery book a week.

The Tiger Woods recent media splash is the jump start my mind needed to occupy itself during these dreary, cold days. I've considered the few facts we've been given, taken into account the personalities of the main characters, and factored in what research tells us about human nature. I've created a possible scenario that put the Woods family into the middle of the media blitz.

That early morning, Elin and Tiger got into a explosive argument about Tiger's indiscretions. Elin either suspected or knew of them for sometime. The claims of tabloids brought the situation to a head; a head that had been festering for a while. Fans are wondering why all the event happened in the wee hours. That's easy to explain. Parents wait until their are tucked in before they approach a delicate subject. The wealthy have an added wait until the domestics retire for the night. Early morning hours are the only time the Woodses could argue privately. Then again, maybe Tiger awaken to find Elin's side of the bed empty, went to investigate, and discovered her searching his desk for proof of his infidelities. Something started the emotional fire that eventually caused Tiger to crash, but not burn.

Fact: Elin smashed the windows of the Escalade. I believe she did, but BEFORE the wreck, not after as she said. During the argument, Elin is livid, more furious than Tiger has ever seen her. She is out of her mind with rage. First, she is a woman. She is hurt, humiliated, and filled with several other emotions we could imagine when she finds she's been betrayed. Her husband has taken a mistress while she's home bearing and caring for his children. I suspect more alleged mistresses will start emerging like cockroaches when the lights go out.

Second, she morphs into the enraged mother bear whose cubs are threatened. Elin is the one to protect the family's privacy and is especially vigilant of her children's exposure to the media. She tries to create a normal household in spite of her husband's fame and fortune. His actions will have the media circling the family like a school of piranha, ready to rip it apart. Elin knows this will happen if any word leaks that Tiger is an adulterer.

Third, she has a competitive streak. Tiger once said in an interview that Elin was more competitive than him. This is a woman that's not going to sit back and knit while Tiger goes on the hunt. She's going to fight anyone who wrongs her.

During the row, Elin confronts Tiger with what she knows and what she thinks of him as a man, a father, and a husband. Since Tiger's guilty as all-get-out and Elin has the goods, his best defense is no defense. Elin has the Tiger by the tail. The champ decides he had better leave the house until Elin returns to her senses or he leaves to initiate damage control measures. The fight or flight theory at it's finest. Tiger goes to his SUV (flight) and Elin follows (fight). On her way out, she grabs a golf club from a bag in the garage. As her husband rolls down the driveway, Elin smashes a window and then another. The distraction causes Tiger to veer into the hydrant and tree. You see, Tiger can't drive a golf ball unless he has complete silence. That's why his caddy berates those that don't give Tiger his due. Distractions cause him to drive his ball erratically, apparently his SUV's too.

Fact: Most of the damage to the SUV was on the passenger's side. No account I read states that the driver's door was jammed. So why was it necessary for Elin to break both back windows to free him as was claimed? OK, maybe the car doors automatically lock at a certain speed. Wouldn't one window have been enough to pop the locks? Free him from what? The airbags didn't deploy and the most damage was on the opposite side from where Tiger sat. Photos of the windows show sharp shards of glass jutting from the frames. Obviously, Woods wasn't rescued by pulling him out through a window. I haven't read anywhere how she supposedly got him out.

Fact: Elin had a golf club. Where did she get it? Out of the back of the SUV? If the cargo area was unlocked, the other doors would have been, also. Why break two windows then? She ran down the driveway after hearing the crash, inspected the damaged, and accessed the situation. Realizing that she needed to free Tiger, she ran back to the house an grabbed a golf club. Not likely for a number of reasons. Elin heard the crash and thought she might need the club so she grabbed it before she ran to Tiger's aid. That doesn't wash either. Readers, she already had the club because she had been ATTACKING the car as Tiger ran for cover.

Before the emergency people started arriving, Elin concocted the rescue story to explain why she was at the scene so fast, had a club, and why the SUV's windows were broken out. She shifted into her mother bear mode to protect her family.....Tiger may have been included.

As more of the drama unfolds, I'm anxious to see how close my scenario comes to what really happened in that posh neighborhood in the wee hours. How close do you think I've come to being right? Leave a comment and let me know.

Chewing the Fat About Airplane Seats

2009-08-21T19:46:00.004-04:00

I have some thoughts that I want to share on the following topic. Please feel free to make your comments. I’m interested in what you think. Maybe we can start a movement!

PLANE SEATING: I flew to Florida this past weekend and was unpleasantly reminded about why I don’t like flying that much. On the first leg of the trip, I was seating next to a large woman mummy-wrapped in a blanket so she looked like a gigantic, white grub. The seats dividing armrest was up since lowering it could have lopped off a sizeable chuck of her body, that which was puddled on my seat. I sat huddled on the aisle corner of my seat for the flight while she was all comfy.

On the second leg, I sat next to a large, young girl wearing short shorts which exposed lots of bare thigh. Her chubby arms puffed out of a short sleeved T-shirt. She looked like she just left the gym after her afternoon workout. She was in the window seat and I was on the aisle. Her body was turned in the seat with her left hip overlapping my seat because she couldn’t sit facing directly forward. Several times during the flight, her hip, bare thigh, or exposed arm was against me. Sorry, I like my personal space so after several illicit contacts, I lowered the armrest. It was a “drawing a line in the sand” kind of move. Keep your body parts on your own side. I had to restrain myself from regressing to my childhood auto backseat behavior and screaming, “She’s touching me! She’s touching me! Tell her to stop!” to the flight attendant.

The airline industry needs to replace those (many times) too small plane seats. Most of the jets flying are older and seat specifications when they are built aren’t suitable for today’s flyers. Obesity in our country is on the rise and has been for years. Unfortunately, the size of plane seats hasn’t kept pace with the increasing size of passengers’ butts. Those that have had their seat infringed upon have clambered that super-sized passengers should purchase two seats or fly first-class where the seats are wider. Both of those options are expensive and not popular choices. I have a better and less costly solution.

Congress should pass a Seat-use Reimbursement Law whereby the encroacher has to pay his seatmate for the portion of the cushion used. A "you splay, you pay" deal. For instance, all plane seat cushions would have ruler images printed on them. When the hefty sits, any flab or body part that rests on or hangs over the opposite seat will be measured using the ruler with the reimbursement amount increasing on a sliding scale. Your flab is occupying $50 worth of MY paid seat. Ante up. I suspect that a lot of jumbos will gather their saddlebags and corral them in their personal space rather than pay. If not, the squashed passenger will collect some bucks for his uncomfortable ride, at least.

Experience Necessary

2009-07-07T19:18:00.003-04:00

“Experience necessary.” We’ve all heard and seen that phrase at one point or another when searching for a job. What has always bothered me is, if so many employers want experienced people, where does one begin on the ground floor?

When I was in high school and wanted a summer job, I checked the classifieds. Those two words showed up in ads for a filing clerk, a data entry position, and salon hair washer girl. Now, how hard is it to learn to file papers and charts alphabetically or any other way for that matter? Match the “a” with the “a” and drop it in the bin!

Data entry is sitting a keyboard typing all day. I understand requiring a certain typing speed over whether one has used a particular data saving program. Data entry is usually a repetitive process, entering names and address or such, into a pre-designed form. Show me once and turn me loose. I was on my way to college so I had some smarts and the ability to learn.

I was tempted to interview at the salon and claim my “experience” was washing my own hair every day from the time I was old enough to do it myself. Or, that my dog thinks I’m a talented shampooer. What could an “inexperienced” washer do to cause a catastrophe? Test the water temperature, wet the head, apply the shampoo, massage, rinse. Stop massaging if you see clumps of hair sticking to your fingers. Report any lice nits or scurrying insects you discover to the salon operator then try to refrain from continually scratching your own scalp for the next two days. The job would be a snap.

I’m not against experience at all for some jobs like piloting a plane. I’d have a hard time staying in my seat if the flight attendant made an announcement congratulating the passengers on being the first load that Captain Jack has flown. My brother is a pilot and I know that he practiced in a flight simulator …on the ground. I think it’s like a sophisticated arcade game where the instructor makes bad things happen to the plane. If the pilot-in-training botches the remedy maneuvers, the computer plane crashes and burns. No points for that. If the novice racks up a certain number of points, his prize is a real jumbo jet full of unsuspecting travelers. The saving grace is that airplanes today have the auto-pilot option that not only flies the plane, but it can perform take-offs and landings. The jet my brother flies can even find its way to a certain gate at any given airport once the auto-pilot is programmed. Who makes more mistakes, humans or computers? Let the computer fly the plane!

A curious twist to the “experience necessary” thing rears its ugly head in our public schools, at least in Western Pennsylvania. A school district will call a substitute numerous times to teach a variety of grades and subjects. When a position opens for which the substitute is qualified, the district will hire a new college graduate because he will be on the lowest level of the salary scale. I was told by an administrator that this hiring practice gets the school an inexpensive teacher and retains an experienced substitute. That is until the sub realizes what happened and tells the district to take its sub job and shove it.

If a teacher with experience applies for a job, he will be offered the slot if he agrees to forget about years of experience and accept the base salary. With teaching jobs scarce here, the unemployed jump at the opportunity. The districts love this situation.

There are several career positions where experience is appreciated and valued enough that employers pay accordingly. I won’t list them all, but prostitution is most likely one of them.

My Bucket List

2009-05-17T20:31:00.003-04:00

Some people wish to climb Mt. Everest or snorkel the Great Barrier Reef or have some other lofty goal that they will attain someday. I know I’ll never be able to afford to climb Everest or to even buy a plane ticket to Australia so my “bucket list” consists of less stupendous aims. Even so, working through the items is most likely going to take courage, stamina, and work since they appear on the list at all.

Someday I’m going to…

…stop smoking little, peach cigars. I started smoking and drinking beer when I played golf with the guys. I gave up the beer. It would have been healthier if I would have ditched the butts.

…have the small dents and scratches repaired on my car so that careless drivers have a “clean slate” of sorts. It’s more fun to nick a car with pristine paint.

…learn to pluck my eyebrows with my glasses on so that I can see how I end up with lopsided, almost nonexistent brows.

…learn to paint my fingernails so they don’t look like I used a roller to apply the color.

…have a makeover. I want to see if a makeup artist can paint me up to look like the models I see in magazines. I think they use spray guns.

…clean the walk-in closet that I can’t walk into. I know I’ll want something that’s in there someday so I don’t want to give away my high school wardrobe just yet.

…take an unopened bag of dog food that’s been in my garage for months to the Humane Society. It’s a good thing the doggies aren’t depending on me for nourishment daily.

…fill the spa with water. It’s been empty so long I don’t remember why I siphoned the water out. Maybe it was to save someone from drowning. I better check under the cover for a body first.

…wear underwear when I’m cleaning the house. I hate housework and for some reason going commando makes it bearable…or is it bareable? It’s also the waste of clean undies. I’m actually saving electricity, gas, soap, and water …my part in “going green.”

…get a hole-in-one when golfing. I’ve come close. When I get it, I’ll be quitting golf because the game will have gotten too easy for me.

…lose 30 pounds and reward myself with a convertible. My hairdresser said, “Why the 30 pounds? You can fit in a convertible now.” Dah!

…win more than $5 on a lottery ticket. I’ve scratched more than an elephant with hives. Surely, the clerk will accidentally give me a big winner one day.

…quit letting my five pound Yorkie boss me around. She barks her orders when she wants fed, to go outside, up on my lap, a tidbit from my plate, and to go to bed. If she’s tired, I’m to retire so she can go to her cage for the night. I sneak back downstairs when she’s sound asleep sometimes.

…make a list of all the valuable jewelry I have so when I’m dead the kids will know which pieces are worth fighting over.

…plant my decorative, outside flowers before June. How do you know that that frost was the last one? Don’t you have to wait until June to be sure it was?

…stop playing the Wall Street Survivor fantasy game and have the courage to invest real money. This is my Mt. Everest in regard to needing courage. Burying cash in a Mason jar in my backyard probably makes more sense.

…exercise every day for a whole week. I have this beautiful elliptical machine to use, but I hate to work hard walking and end up in the same room in which I started. Walking to the Dairy Queen is my idea of exercise.

…read a book explaining ice hockey. I need to know why the Pittsburgh Penguin players aren’t skating where I think they should be. And, isn’t “icing” the great stuff that goes on the top of cupcakes?

…schedule that colonoscopy I’m due to get. Last time I went I had an endoscopy, too. I made the nurse that called me a “double dipper” promise that the doctor wouldn’t use the same probe on both ends of my body. Hey, who knows what they do when you’re asleep.

…clean my car so Hubby quits writing his name in the dust on the dashboard.

Leave comment and tell me what’s on your bucket list. No fair listing lofty goals!

It's Badge Award Day!

2009-05-03T15:22:00.007-04:00

I'm giving special badge awards today and you don't want one. The No Common-sense Badge is awarded to the following people. May they wear their badges with pride.

A kitchen fire destroyed a man's house and killed his pet. Now, a grease fire can happen to anyone so he doesn't get a badge for starting it. His badge was earned for frying fish for his soon to be 15-year-old, ailing dog. Fried fish for a sick dog? Everyone knows fish is healthier for you when it's baked. Hey, buddy, when the fire started why didn't you grab the dog before you fled? Here's your badge!

A bank and a convenience store were robbed in a nearby town. Both suspects were apprehended due to the efforts of observant bystanders. The bank robber was tackled by a father/son team of garbage collectors. The store perp was followed home by a gasoline customer who called the police. What caught the attention of the witnesses? Both men walked through the parking lot wearing a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. A flawed modus operandi to be sure. Here are your badges, guys!

Four men are playing golf - individual scoring, not a scramble. Each hits his drive off the tee. Then, both carts are driven to the nearest ball and everyone waits for several minutes until that player hits his ball. Then, it's on to the second, third, and fourth ball. Three players sitting, waiting for one to hit. Why does the hitter need three spectators? Do they remind him that he needs to hit again because he's forgotten during the ride over? Are they there for assistance for when he says, "Help, I've fallen and I can't get up"? Maybe they shout cheers and sing fight songs to psych him up. I've seen walking golfers do the same thing. Boys, have you heard the term "ready golf'"? Go find your respective balls (that usually takes several minutes), grab a club, and hit! The sign that read, "A round should take a maximum of 4 1/2 hours" was hung for you to read. Here are your badges!

Speaking of golfers.... An amateur player gets out of the cart, gazes toward the green, checks the ball's lie, surveys his club selection, chooses one, takes a few practices swings, puts it back in the bag, chooses another, takes a few practice swings, gazes some more, puts the club in the bag and gets the first one back out, gazes some more, takes 10 practices swings, then stands motionless over the ball for several seconds. Hit the #%^& thing, already! This is the same routine he follows on every shot and his putting routine is equally long. Later in the clubhouse he complains about how slow the play was on the course. Here's your badge!

Purses, wallets, phones, i-Pods, cameras, money, jewelry, and sports equipment are some of the items that people report stolen out of their unlocked cars and gym lockers. I'll give you victims a No Common-sense Badge, but you really deserve the Crown of Stupidity.

Exploring Florida’s Nature Coast

2009-03-29T00:55:00.007-04:00

I apologize that this site has not been updated in a month, but Hubby and I have been on the go. We started feeling the urgency to explore all that we wanted to before heading back to PA via Alexandria, VA, on April 2. We even made a “bucket list” to keep our travels focused.

Between Feb. 26 and Mar. 8, we went to Plant City twice for the annual Strawberry Festival which drew approx. 500,000 visitors over the 11 day schedule. The event included exhibits, vendors, livestock shows/auctions, amusement rides, and entertainment featuring local and famous performers including George Jones, Jeff Foxworthy, Randy Travis, Travis Tritt, and Jessica Simpson. Hey, the racing pigs were there, too! Free, but limited, bleacher seating is available for the big star shows if you’re willing to park your butt on a metal seat in the sun for 4+ hours until showtime. It’s healthier to buy a reserved seat ticket – for the metal folding chairs in the sun.

I bought a ½ case (6 pints) of strawberries for $6.95 and ate most of them myself. They were huge, juicy, and sweet. Can’t a deal like that in a supermarket!

My daughter and her family visited for a few days so we thought it would be fun to take the baby (almost two-years-old) to the Tarpons Springs Aquarium. She especially enjoyed the “petting pool” where she touched a turtle, a starfish, and a small shark. She also stroked a huge boa constrictor. After arriving at her PA home, she became ill and her doctor was concerned she had contracted salmonella from handling reptiles. Who’d a thought? Seems that 90% of all reptiles harbor the disease (turtles in particular) to which small children are extremely vulnerable. She could have contracted something from the dog poop-scooper spoon she put in her mouth on her grandfather’s watch, too. Then again, maybe she got something at our beach which is posted with “swimming prohibited” signs due E Coli-positive water samples. She just played in the sand! Next year, to be safe, we’ll give her a box of bio-hazardous materials infected with known diseases to play with so we’ll know how, when, and where she got a germ or two. The mysterious disease ran its course before the test results were returned and she’s fine now.

The 16th annual Weeki Wachee Swamp Fest is held at Linda Pedersen Park surrounded by thick vegetation and water. The festival grounds are accessed by crossing a bridge at which you’re asked to make a donation. Like when the billy goats had to pay the troll! The event celebrates the area’s marshy environs complete with cuisine such as alligator tail kabobs and swamp cabbage soup. The fest is family-oriented and draws over 8000 visitors. Arts and crafts vendors set tents next to environmental preservation and wildlife groups manning information booths. This year, a manatee family attended via the surrounding creek and was a big hit. I really wanted a rubber alligator hat, but they were too expensive. I’m saving to buy one next year.

No visit to Weeki Wachee (W.W. for short) is complete without taking in the live mermaid show at W.W. Springs State Park. Weeki Wachee, meaning “little spring” or “winding river,” was named by the Seminole Indians. More than 117 million gallons of clear water bubble out of the subterranean caverns daily, filling the basin that’s 100 ft. wide and of unknown depth. The spring water is 72° year round and flows out of the basin to form the 12 mile long W. W. River. The mermaid shows are viewed from a 400-seat submerged theater. The first mermaid shows began in 1947 with W.W.’s heyday beginning in 1959.

Buccaneer Bay, the state’s only spring fed water park operates adjacent to the basin and offers waterslides, swimming, a white sand beach, and picnic areas. Lots of scuba divers go there to learn and practice, also.

Hubby and I floated the W.W. River twice. Once we took the River Boat Cruise at the park and the second time we rented a canoe there and did the “Go with the Flow” trip. Imagine floating down a narrow, crystal clear river lined with palms, tall vines, and trees dripping moss. We were supposed to see varied wildlife, but noisy paddlers ruined that. I wasn’t keen on seeing alligators and snakes around my canoe anyway. Hubby professed to being an experienced canoer, but every time he did his Explorer Scout paddle maneuver, I ended up with a face full of shoreline vegetation. Of course, it was my fault the front of the canoe went in a different direction than the back and that we spent some time floating sideways. We did see eagles, osprey, hawks, turkey buzzards, two otters, and a snake in the claws of a hawk flying over us. Once I sat in a shallow spot of the river and ate a baggie of cherry tomatoes and some peanut butter crackers while working on my tan. Life doesn’t get any better than that.

We visited Busch Gardens, Africa in Tampa twice. Buy a one day ticket and the small print reads that you can return within 6 days FREE. Great deal! On the first visit, go to Guest Relations upon entering the park to get your second day tickets to avoid the late-day crowds. BG offers several extras worth investigating like an “eat your way through the park” pass or the 30% off all gift store purchases shopping pass. Short for time? Purchase a “jump-the-line” pass that allows you to cut in front of lines at all the popular rides – without getting beaten up! The passes have official names, but I like mine better. Hubby went for the eating pass and stuffed food in his mouth in front of me all day. He even sneaked away while I was shopping and ate desserts. Dieting with him around is a constant test of my mettle. We went on one roller coaster and Hubby said he felt he was having a heart attack after we got off. I thought he was kidding, but he was serious. I didn’t ask to ride anything else because if had an attack I’d have to load the truck by myself when we leave FL.

We’ve been to the Tampa Golf Show, the casino boat twice, and the New Port Richey Chasco and Native American Festivals, looked at real estate, and played lots of (bad) golf.

Golf is a weird game examples: Poor sand trap shots were adding too many strokes to my score so one evening I climbed into a greenside bunker and practiced by hitting 50-60 balls. Few landed where I aimed so I left with sand in my hair and down my bra, blisters on my hands, and more frustrated than before. I’ve used my “hand wedge” to get out of a few beaches since then. Yesterday, my ball landed in a greenside bunker after the third flubbed shot on the hole and I declared that I quit. After second thoughts, I decided to hit that darn ball out and jumped into the trap. No thinking, just hit the *@#^& thing. Out it flew in a drizzle of sand, softly landed, rolled 5 feet, and dropped into the hole. To all who were watching (the 18th hole) it was dang impressive, but I acted nonchalant. Wouldn’t want people to think the shot was more of luck than skill.

Locally, a woman had just finished a series of lessons and wanted the pro to take her onto the course to play. He didn’t think she was ready, but took her anyway. She got up on the tee of the first hole (par 3), of the first golf course she was ever on, and made her first swing. The ball soared, hit the green, and rolled into the cup for a hole-in-one. The pro was speechless (for a while) and the lady couldn’t understand all the excitement over one shot. It’s obvious she’s a newbie to the game and that golf isn’t fair.

So This is Retirement....

2009-02-26T21:27:00.002-05:00

I’m at the 62-year-old Pasco County Fair in Dade City sitting on metal bleachers with a huge funnel cake balanced on my lap waiting for the Robinson’s Racing Pigs show to begin. The wind blows the cake’s powdered sugar onto my navy shirt, Hubby’s right side, and the entire back (head to waist) of the man sitting in front of me. I imagine him stymied later as to how he got sugar-coated. Soon the likes of Hillary RodHAM Clinton and Al BOAR will speed around a wood-chip oval and swim a narrow trough for an Oreo cookie. The realization hits me like a lightening bolt. Not, “Life doesn’t get any better than this,” but “What the hell am I doing here?”

I’ve seen breeds of chickens and rabbits I never knew existed, but skipped the cow and pig barn. I’m a horse lover, but this fair has none. Unbelievable! I guess they’re in countryside stables waiting for the rodeo at the end of the week.

In my quest for finding interesting fair food, I discover the pot roast sundae, a bowl of mashed potatoes covered in pieces of roast, gravy, corn kernels, and topped with a cherry tomato. I don’t order one because I’ve had stomach problems since eating the chocolate-covered bacon at the state fair.

Next, it’s south to the Dunedin Arts and Crafts Festival. Most of the vendors I’ve seen before, but I bought two pendants. One is a buffalo head nickel with the metal cut away from the Indian head leaving the outside ring of the coin. A tiny feather is linked to the back of the Indian’s head.

The other pendant is a silver triangle with a red/black “stone” embedded in the middle made in Ireland. Actually, the stone is made from weeds. After the heather plant is no longer useful, the stems are collected, bundled, dyed, and compacted with 80 tons of pressure to form a hard material cut for jewelry. Leave it to the Irish to find a use for weeds.

We boarded the high speed shuttle vessel that took us to a floating casino 9.5 miles off the Port Richey shore. For a while, I played blackjack, my favorite card game and won $25. I don’t play big so I don’t win or lose big. I took that money and put it into a Pharaoh slot machine, also a favorite. I won $94 just before the return shuttle left so I hit land a winner. Hubby likes the floating casino because I HAVE to stop gambling at a certain time or miss the boat – literally.

We’ve finished our golf lessons and I’m not any better than before. However, now I know why I’ve hit a bad shot and can correct the mistake on the next one. They say it takes 6 weeks or so to improve after lessons. The timing dove-tails with the beginning of the PA golf season. I hope the money spent on lessons was a good investment.

Bodies, Bulls, Chocolate-covered Bacon & Kumquats

2009-02-10T22:18:00.002-05:00

The comedian, W. C. Fields, referred to his lady friend as his “little kumquat.” I was fairly sure a kumquat wasn’t a girlfriend so we drove east to Dade City for the 12th Annual Kumquat Festival to confirm my thoughts. Actually, kumquats are golden orange, citrus fruits about the size of grape tomatoes, believed to be native to China. Their growing season is mid November to March, and the majority of these little gems in the U.S. come from the Dade City area. Kumquats can be sweet (meiwa) or tart (nagami) depending on variety. Since kumquats are eaten whole, peel and all, with seeds optional, make sure you’re popping a sweet one into your mouth. I saw lots of sour kumquat carnage in the dirt outside the tasting tent. The tart ones are the best, though, for cooking and baking. Usually the whole fruit is ground into puree used for jams, jellies, salsas, chutneys, and marmalades. I ate the frozen pie and the cookies. These babies can be candied or used as decorations, also. Logon to http://www.kumquatgrowers.com/ for recipes and to order products.

No kumquat festival would be complete without a Kumquat Queen, arts & crafts show, wagon rides, music, food, and an antique car & truck show. This quirky, free-admission event was advertised on Tampa’s Super Bowl website of things-to-do and drew an estimated 30-40,000 attendees. And in case you’re wondering, my little kumquat, I did buy things including a handmade silver bracelet.

After receiving my charge card statement, I thought it best that our next activity wasn’t one where I’d be inclined to buy something I saw. We headed to Dr. Gunther von Hagens’ Body Worlds & The Story of the Heart at the Museum of Science and Industry (MOSI) in Tampa. He is the inventor of “plastination” and creator of all the Body Worlds exhibits. Plastination is a polymer preservation process where bodily fluids and soluble fat are extracted from a donated body (or body parts) and replaced with resins and compounds like silicon rubber providing elasticity. Then the body is posed in the best anatomical position for viewing and teaching. In the last process, the specimen is cured with light, heat, or gases to make it rigid and permanent. It’s easy to see how jam packed are bodies are with bones, muscles, and organs, etc. that all seem to fit together like a jigsaw puzzle. von Hagens separates various body systems to display individually so the viewer can understand the whole as the sum of its parts. The plastinations of the circulatory and nervous systems were awesome in detail.

All the former bodies on display were of thin, well-toned people sporting visible six-pack abs (obvious sans skin). I secretly wondered what von Hagens would do with a fat body like mine. On a table on the outer edges of the exhibit, lay a large, one-inch thick slab with the appearance of whitish-colored marble. As I moved closer, I heard the museum employee say, “This obese person’s body was frozen solid and then it was sliced neck to feet to show all the fat that accumulates under the skin and in the cracks and crevices.” All-righty now, that answered my question! Skin wasn’t part of the exhibit anywhere, but that may change in time. One multi-tattooed and pierced, young lady has donated her body in hopes that her skin will be stretch-mounted in a large picture frame and viewed as art. www.bodyworlds.com

We explored the rest of the MOSI’s three display floors. It’s much like the Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh. I’ve been there so the MOSI didn’t capture my attention for the next three hours, but Hubby enjoyed himself. I was “scienced-out” long before he was ready to leave. I browsed the shops, but I didn’t buy anything. Honest.

One thing for sure about this area is that there is always something happening somewhere. Many times on the same day so we have had to choose our destinations wisely or double-up to save time and gas money. That’s what we did Friday when we spent the day at the Florida State Fair then drove 6 miles into Tampa for the Professional Bull Riders qualifier.

I can say that it was the first time I’ve ever been frisked and my purse searched before gaining admittance to a fairground. The need for such procedures was driven home when the man in line behind us tried to enter with a six-inch-blade knife in his pocket. Hubby saw the exchange while I was stuffing things back into my tiny purse. The teenagers in front of me got busted for concealing two cans of soda.

Passed the gate, we were funneled into the Expo Hall containing the vendor booths and lots of things to buy. I treated myself to an early Valentine’s Day gift of a silver pendant with a Larimar stone. I’ve wanted a piece of that rock since I first read about it two years ago.

I was on the lookout for some unusual fair cuisine I had read to expect. The Tornado Potato, deep-fried green beans, and deep-fried Pepsi didn’t turn my head because I was in search of chocolate-covered bacon. Hubby tried to discourage me from buying this expensive, heart-clogging snack, even threatened to call my doctor. The bacon is fried crisp and served in a plastic container like nachos but, with the reservoir full of chocolate. The combination is both sweet and salty like chocolate-covered peanuts. Hubby still makes gagging sounds when he remembers me eating it. www.floridastatefair.com

That night, the top 40 bull riders in the world were at the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa to qualify for the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) Championship finals in Las Vegas later this year. I’ve seen bull riding on TV, but I had to lay eyes on the men that do this for a living. You’ve got to have a few spurs loose to climb on the back of a 1500+ pound beast with an attitude, tie yourself to it by one hand, and then try to stay alive for another 8 seconds while waving to the crowd with your free hand. And some of the bulls; Booger Butt, Super Beast, Alligator Chomp, and (my personal favorite) Chicken on a Chain, part-owned by the comedian known as Larry the Cable Guy. In my mind, I can see and hear him on a stage explaining how he named that bull. www.pbrnow.com

I often wonder how certain sports evolved because their descriptions sound so stupid. “O.K. strap these boards to your feet and hold on to this rope. I’m going to drive the boat 30 mph and pull you over the water. Trust me, it will be fun.” For the birth of bull riding, I imagine two cowboys standing at the bull pen posturing when one says, “I bet I can ride that big, ol’ bull one-handed.” I believe, without a doubt, that alcohol consumption played a major role in the beginnings of many sports.

Zigzagging Florida's West Coast

2009-01-30T15:39:00.009-05:00

We're headed south again to St. Petersburg. No trip to this city is complete without visiting The Pier at the end of Second Avenue. The site has been a landmark since a railroad was connected to the half-mile wharf in 1889. There actually have been many piers here, but the famed Million Dollar Pier was replaced in 1973 by today's five-story, inverted pyramid design. It houses specialty shops, galleries, boutiques, various eating establishments, bars, and an aquarium. Pier visitors can fish, rent surrey bikes, hop a sightseeing boat or charter one, hand-feed wild pelicans, or get married on the water. The building is bathed now bathed in Super Bowl colors (blue and green), but will shine red or gold after Sunday's bowl winner is decided.

I bought an artist-signed, clay pot made in Ecuador from an archaeologist/shop owner who tells of great digging expeditions. It's the most expensive piece I own now, but clearly the most unique.

Moored to The Pier this month is the HMS Bounty (a replica) of the famed Mutiny on the Bounty writing and movie. Actually, it's the vessel used in the making of all the movie recreations of Captain Bligh and Fletcher Christian's confrontation is 1789.

Hubby and I boarded her, and I immediately decided that the old gal wasn't big enough for me to sail a sea or two. I fought claustrophobia below deck and stood where some sunlight could find me. Our personal guide explained life at sea, sailor superstitions, and modern day sayings that have origins on the briny. After listening to him, I think the saying out on a limb should mean the captain is using the bathroom. This is a family website so I can't write how the saying shake a leg supposedly originated.

We pointed the grill of our Ford F150 north for approx. 35 miles to Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park. It's 210 acres of home to native Floridian creatures, and one of few places you can see West Indian manatees at close range 365 days/year. The park is named for the freshwater spring that produces millions of gallons of clear water an hour and whose outflow creates the Homosassa River.

Educational programs for both adults and children are offered daily. The Fish Bowl floating, underwater observatory allows visitors to see manatee and thousands of fish in their natural habitat. We were there at feeding time which is when keepers throw tons of leafy vegetables into the water next to the observatory windows. I got some great pix of the manatee chomping greens inches from my lens.

The park is a rehabilitation center for injured and orphaned manatee to re-acclimate before being returned to the wild. There is 1.1 mile of paved trails and boardwalks, and Pepper Creek Trail is a 1.5 mile, wheelchair-accessible path enjoyed by birdwatchers.

Hubby was excited the day we drove 48 minutes southeast to Tampa for adventure at the NFL Experience and a tour of Raymond James Stadium. The 18-year-old Experience is squatted in a parking lot adjacent to the venue and is a mecca for football fans of all ages. It's a festival featuring participatory games, a football card show, displays, kids' clinics, autograph sessions, food, entertainment, and pricey souvenirs. The NFL donates the proceeds to two sponsored Youth Education Towns (in Tampa) offering education and recreational facilities designed to improve academics and physical fitness, and job-related skills to at-risk kids.

Since we're old people, our most strenuous activity here was to have our picture taken in front of the Vince Lombardi Trophy. I liked the showcase full of passed Super Bowl rings. Talk about gaudy!

The stadium was Hubby's fav. The arena's bowels looked much like the ones I saw on a tour of Heinz Field. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all, I guess. Surprisingly, there are several areas that are unfinished with dirt floors and exposed ceilings. I think someone ran out of money.

Hubby commandeered the camera and snapped his way from the lofty 200 luxury suites to the gridiron, inside and out. Good thing it's a digital because the cost of film developing all those photos would equal the price of a Super Bowl ticket.

RJS opened in 1998 and normally seats 65,000. However, additional, temporary seating has been installed in the end zones for this game. I was disappointed that our tour didn't take us to Buccaneer Cove and the pirate ship. That's the only thing I wanted to see! The public balcony in front of the vessel was being readied for the media who will broadcast from there.

Hubby snagged up some blades of grass from the newly laid sod (we were told not to even step on it!) when no one was looking. He mailed them home to our green-thumbed daughter, asking her to grow a patch of Super Bowl history for him. When our son-in-law first saw the curious contents of the baggie, he commented that if it was marijuana we had sent them, we'd been really cheap!

Betwixt our day trips, we golf Hudson's surrounding courses and take lessons. Consequently, I have blisters on my fingers covered with white, medical tape. Add my arthritic thumb wrap and I look like a Tigress Woods. OK, maybe more like a physically handicapped player.

We've had some cold weather by Floridian norms - below 32 degrees at night and 50's - low 60's by day. BURRR! Right, Beaver Countians? Natives have had to uncloset the hooded parkas and thermal underwear. Fake fireplace logs are a hot commodity at Wal*Mart. The good part is that cool, windy days give me more time to read and write.

The Snowbirds Fly

2009-01-22T17:13:00.008-05:00

Lots has happened since my last post. I’ll get you caught up on our doings here in Hudson, Florida. I had a typical “man encounter” on the golf course when Hubby and I went to play one afternoon. We were paired with a single gentleman (I’ll call him that for now). While we were waiting to tee off, the starter mentioned something about golfing with a woman that looked so stylish (that was me in my new golfing garb). The single looked at me and said, “Fine, as long as you don’t talk or giggle when I’m hitting.”

Hubby immediately ducked behind the golf cart because he knows how angry I get when men say things to me that they wouldn’t say to a fellow male. Usually the comments infer that I don’t have the ability to play with the big guys, but this yoho was questioning my etiquette! I lasered him with my best “teacher look” and replied, “Fine, and men can’t fart or burp when I’m hitting.” He got the message as did the starter who nearly fell out of his cart trying to hide his laughter. I glared at his shocked expression for a few more seconds to underscore the intent. Mr. Golfer hit his drive low, left, short, and off the fairway. I hit one of the best drives of my life straight, long, and dead center in the fairway. ‘Nuff said. I hope I see him again after I finish my golf lessons with Ray Cisbani at The Links course. He’s a great teacher and has been selected as The St. Pete Times and Tampa Tribune’s “Golf Coach of the Year” three times.

One of our first stops was the USA Flea Market in Port Richey. It’s like the market in Rogers, Ohio, only it’s all indoors. This market has everything and anything, also. I bought a silver and turquoise bracelet.

We daytripped to Tarpon Springs, just south of us, twice. If you are ever in the area, take time to visit this town known as the “Sponge Capital of the World.” It was originally established in the 1880’s as a winter resort for wealthy Northerners, but the arrival of the Greek sponge divers in 1905 changed everything. By the 1930’s, the sponge industry was generating millions of dollars a year, and as the industry grew, tourism evolved with it.

Lining narrow Dodecanese Avenue in the Sponge Dock District and connecting streets are over 100 shops, restaurants, and sweet shops featuring French and Greek pastries that required all my willpower to pass. Dining options range from authentic Greek to French, Italian, and seafood. We ate Greek. I had spanokopita which is like a lasagna, but made with Phyllo dough, spinach, feta cheese, onions, and dill. The portion was delicious and too much to eat in one sitting.

My wilted Master Card was evidence that I had a great time shopping. I bought a vase (to add to my collection), olive oil base lotions and soaps, and a dress, all made in Greece. A vase sponge, shells and air plants I’ll use to create a unique planter for my son’s girlfriend. My granddaughter gets a Greek Evil Eye bracelet. The mati (ìÜôé), Greek for eye, is supposed to protect one from someone else casting a glare of envy or harm your way. By wearing an eye, the superstition is that the eye turns away or repels the envy or harm, taking away bad luck and bringing you good luck.

I couldn’t resist a vegetable ivory earrings and necklace set to add to my unusual jewelry collection. Tagua or vegetable ivory is the seed of the Ciclantacea Palm that grows in South American rain forests. The nuts used in the set I bought came from Equador.

Homemade soaps were also my weakness. My personal favorite is a honey, oatmeal, and goat’s milk bar made by Nina and sold in her tiny shop. The suds taste sweet! Hubby keeps telling me he smells a goat in the house.

I bought a Sacred Winds CD that features the pan flute, which is a traditional Native American instrument. With piano and orchestra accompaniment, it is truly the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. It’s music that “touches the heart and heals the soul.”

More Things to do in TP: visit antique shops and artists’ galleries; tour St. Nicholas Greek Othodox Cathedral; take a walking or trolley bus tour of the city; taste wines at the 1820 Castle Winery; walk, hike, bike, or roller blade the Pinellas Trail for 38 miles between TP and St. Petersburg; canoe and kayak, fish, or go to the beach.

Next we headed north to Crystal River in Citrus County, at the heart of the Nature Coast of Florida. When I was researching this area and making vacation plans, I decided that I was going to swim with manatee. We went during the Manatee Festival so there were hundreds of craftsmen and vendors. Instead of swimming with the manatee this trip, we opted to rent kayaks and encounter them from the perceived safety of a watercraft. This was our first kayaking experience and Hubby is hooked. The manatee were plentiful in the little inlet and canal we paddled which was rather unnerving for me. These mammals are huge! They swam beside us and underneath our kayaks in clear water 2-7 feet deep. Several surfaced next to Hubby’s craft, and he scratched their backs. I tried to get a photo, but I got so flustered I forgot how to take a pic with my phone. Hubby is yelling, “Don’t lose that phone! It’s our Internet connection.” I’m fumbling with the phone and the paddle in a rocking kayak when a manatee surfaced and blew water from it nostrils at me! It was scary, but a thrilling moment. Never did get any pix. We will definitely go back for another close encounter with these gentle giants.

At the craft vendors row, I bought a CD called Saxual Healing, featuring Mark Maxwell on the saxophone, one of my favorite instruments. I added a unique, handmade, quartz-bead bracelet and a silver and gold crab pendent necklace (my Zodiac sign) to my jewelry collection.

We headed southeast to the Seminole Hard Rock Resort Hotel and Casino in Tampa one day. Many of you know that I’m a semi-reformed casino junky so you’re not surprised. The casino is 90,000 sq. ft. and obviously doing well because it is hiring 3650 dealers. Its sister casino is in Hollywood, FL. Best have lots of money if you visit this establishment. The lowest limit blackjack table I saw was $15. I saw some tables where patrons were plunking down $150 a hand or more. Most of the slots were connected to some sort of progressive jackpot that effected your bonus spins whether you played the progressive game or not. The bonuses didn’t result in much money most times. I played one machine for hours and never figured out how the progressive option worked (no instructions). A guy sitting next to me tried to explain, but I don’t think he had a handle on it either. I won $100 on the bandit, but put it and more back in. Our next casino visit will be on the Sun Cruz Line (a ship) in Port Richey. Hopefully, I’ll do better at sea.

The Snowbirds Have Landed

2009-01-05T20:45:00.012-05:00

Readers,

I said I would never have a journal-type blog, but I've changed my mind. I want to share with you our adventures here in Florida. We arrived on Jan. 1 with little difficulty compared to our other road trips. The car door didn't slam on my arm and give me a giant hematoma that lasted for months, we didn't have our room search by the police because my husband was seen walking the dog near a car theft, the dogs didn't lock us out of a motel room (see a previous posting for that story), and no one tried to scam an elderly couple staying next to us to open the door to him in the middle of the night so he could rob them. Max (our doxie) didn't upchuck his kibbles even once, thanks to Dramamine.

This year we arrived at two accidents on Interstate 95 before the police. They were of the multi-car variety where someone hits the breaks and eight cars behind him suddenly link up like roller coaster cars. No one appeared to be seriously injured, but there were many unhappy campers. Clemson fans on the way to their team's bowl game in Tampa and senior snowbirds headed for warmer parts don't mix well on an interstate with a 70 mph speed limit of which no one obeys.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief when we saw that the house I rented over the Internet truly existed. My sister kept voicing her concerns over the holidays that the ad was a ruse and the photos were bogus. I've rented a condo and three houses using the Internet over the last couple of years and haven't been disappointed or conned on any of them. She told me that I'm due for trouble and would spend three months living in the pick-up truck with my hubby and two (left one with my dad) dogs. The house is in a development two miles south of Hudson on the Gulf coast, about 30 minutes north of Clearwater/St. Pete. The community layout is such that each house faces the street, but the back faces a canal. It's so relaxing to have my AM coffee on the rear patio and look out over the water. Today, a dolphin surfaced at our seawall! I'm told that dolphins don't usually come up the canals so the sighting was special. The house is well-equipped and stocked. I've found 50 rolls of toilet paper and an equal number of rolls of paper towels. The house cleaner must have a germ phobia because there are five large tubs of disinfecting wipes and enough bottled water to hydrate 100 camels. The kitchen has all the gadgets so the half of my kitchen that hubby packed was unnecessary. He got carried away this year with his preparedness. The giveaway was when two life jackets appeared in the garage during unloading. It's comforting to know that if a tsunami blankets the area, we will be able to swim to higher ground wearing our preservers.

During our first couple of days we familiarized ourselves with the area by locating all the necessities: a Publix (hubby's grocery store of choice), a Wal-Mart, a manicure/pedicure shop, the giant flea market, a Beall's outlet, and the golf courses. We're set, now. Other establishments will be found as needed like the emergency room of a local hospital. Last year I pulled an ab muscle pushing a broken down golf cart (long story). The muscle began spasming so I had to go to an emergency room where I stood for three hours waiting to be seen by a doctor. The receptionist apologized later for the long wait because she forgot I was there. The waiting room emptied three times except for me! I was hard to miss since I flinched with every spasm and couldn't bend to sit.

Today we played golf. Hubby insisted going to the course early to hit practice balls. I don't like to waste any good shots I might have in me on the range. He swings, I watch. Then we go onto the course and I beat the snot out of him. Today, we played to see who had to do the supper dishes (no dishwasher). Tomorrow we play the same course so I'm going to up the ante to who does the laundry. I know where NOT to go on the course now.

Other highlights: Our mail is being forwarded. Last year it was lost for a month before anyone in the US Postal Service could find it.

We discovered that the sofa is actually two recliners separated by a cushion. Probably not a big deal for anyone whose dog hasn't claimed the only free-standing recliner and is willing to bite to keep it.

No-see-'ems are nasty, nearly microscopic insects that bite.

The "Goodie Bar" ice cream vendor works the neighborhood.

Stock Market Fantasy Fanatic

2008-12-11T17:10:00.001-05:00

A year ago on Halloween, I gave up gambling. Fitting because I was being "tricked" more than treated. The slot machines were robbing me and blackjack, my game of choice, hadn't been added to WV casinos yet. On the eve of my reformation, I wagered and lost enough money that even I had to question my ability to bet with my head, not over it . So, I quit.

While suffering from withdrawal, I played free slots on the web and from the casino games CD's I've collected over the years. The thrill just wasn't there. On day my husband said, "As much as you like to gamble and research on the Internet, why don't you try your luck on the stock market?" I've never had any interest in the market and weeks before I put my retirement money in fixed interest accounts to wait out the market's menopausal mood swings. I wasn't keen on risking my money to learn the hard way so I looked online for a place to practice stock trading.

The Wall Street Survivor fantasy game was my choice. It's free, fun, competitive, and educational. I set up an account and started a portfolio with $250,000 of the game's funny money. The basic workings are the same as my husband's Scottrade account except there are weekly, monthly, and grand money prizes for the traders that do the best job of increasing their portfolio's value. The site has several aids to help Survivors research and pick stocks. The Community forums put you in touch with other Survivors to have your questions answered, get terms clarified, discuss strategies, or just chat. The rating section is my favorite because you get to see where you stand in relation to the other 47,000+ players.

I've been a Survivor for less than a month, but I'm doing well for a newbie. There is no fear factor since I have no real money involved so I test my theories and play hunches. I've have discovered that dancing with the stock market is dominated by men, even though, I believe that women are much better prepared to trade. Don't we understand mood swings, adjusting and readjusting, tweaking, saving and buying? A fellow Survivor, wineandcheese, purposed some great ideas to make the market woman-friendly. "I honestly think the stock market should be run more like an online shopping mall. Open 24 hours with sales and clearance items, and weekly advertisements." She also suggests getting money-off coupons for stock prices as email bonuses for agreeing to receive the company's newsletter. Amen, sister! We'd give the economy a kick in the butt for sure.

Of course, there is a downside to my new-found pastime. It's an addiction far worse than a longing for the slots. To meet the one-armed bandits, I had to leave home. With stock trading, I can do it in my nightgown while sipping my morning coffee. If I'm making the bed and one of my stock picks soars to a new high, with a couple of keystrokes I sell for a profit. I have a computer on both floors of my house so I can check the market often. Playing the market has consumed much more of my time than I've spent in casinos. I research, buy, and sell stocks while my carpets need swept and my laundry piles breed. I can't help myself. Pitting my mind against other market players (real and fantasy) is challenging and stimulating. Gambling whether a stock value will rise or fall is every bit as addicting as spinning slot reels. My casino habit was kept in check by the amount of money I felt I could lose. In the Survivor game, I can borrow funds when I run short of cash. Luckily, I never asked a casino to float me a loan.

Am I ready to take some of my retirement savings and entrust it to the stock market? Nope, not yet. I don't know her well enough.

Ants, Bears, and Poopie Diapers

2008-10-11T12:29:00.007-04:00

You know the adage that claims when you think you have it bad, others have it worse? Recently, my daughter called and asked me to babysit. While I was checking my calendar, I was complaining about having ants on my sun porch. My daughter retorted, "You have ants. I had a bear on my porch."

Earlier in the day she ran errands and returned to find a black bear wandering around her yard. She and the grand kids started screaming while still loaded in the van. She composed herself enough to yell at the neighbor who was in his yard. For some unknown reason, he started running toward the bear who stood watching the drama unfold. The neighbor came to his senses and retreated to his house where he summoned his teenagers and their friends. Everyone trooped outside to take pictures of the beast with cell phones. Still, with all this commotion, the bear merely moseyed around as if to say, "You people need to get a grip." Finally, the it ambled into the woods.

The kids were in a panic by the time they entered the house. My daughter reassured them that the bear was gone. To ease the tension, she suggested they make cookies from scratch. Not a tension buster she learned from her mother! Personally, baking with the help of 5 kids all under age 10 would be more traumatic than facing the bear eyeball-to-eyeball. They're all at the kitchen table having a great time making cookies when the bear, after lumbering up on the deck, appeared at the sliding glass door next to the table. Children scattered like cockroaches, screaming all the way. Now, I've heard these kids scream. The baby has a high pitched squeal that would de-calcify your spine with prolonged exposure. I'm convinced this bear is hearing impaired. The kids headed for the second floor and watched the animal descend the deck stairs and leap the picket fence from an ambling pace. My daughter phoned the police who directed her to the game warden. He listened to the tale and replied, "You invaded his territory."

"He was on my porch! I wasn't on his," she answered. The warden stated that there was nothing he could do. He advised that she keep her garbage cans indoors until the last minute on collection day. She explained that it contained only a bag of poopie diapers.

"Oh, those will bring bears every time," he said. Now here is where I get confused. Why do poopie diapers attract bears? Should a hunter plant a pile in the woods or wear some around his neck as a lure? My daughter suggests that poop means someone's eaten and eating requires food. Therefore, zero in on the stench and you'll find food. This logic from a woman who thinks that baking cookies with a horde of children is calming. The warden did make another suggestion - put rags soaked in ammonia everywhere they didn't want the bear to go. She decided to put one in the garbage can outside. I can only imagine how a nose full of ammonia and stinky diapers at 5 AM would affect the rest of the collector's day. I thought a warning note was appropriate.

Bedtime was tricky. The kids had a solution. Since their father (an avid hunter who was sorry he missed the events) was away on business, all 5 of them would sleep in one bed. My daughter was to keep her cell phone, a mace container, and a gun handy. She opted for the phone and the mace. Nixing the gun because she sensed that with a whole night in one bed with four restless kids may make her trigger happy before daybreak. For added protection dish rags were placed at the front and back doors - soaked in ammonia, of course. Makes me glad I live 45 minutes away.

Things I Would Like

2008-09-17T19:16:00.005-04:00

I'm feeling prickly today so I'm going to write about some things I would like to have invented to take the place of their less than satisfactory predecessors.

1. Gum and gum wrappers that dissolve when they come in contact with laundry detergent.

2. Socks with a sewn-in GP system that allows them to find their mates and unite (magnetically, perhaps) in the dryer. Maybe later this feature could be made to work when the socks are under beds and/or inside pant legs.

3. Nail polish that completely dries in 5 minutes (all layers), lasts for longer that 3 days, and never sticks to the skin so messy painters (like me) can give themselves professional looking nails jobs.

4. A canister vacuum that "senses" when you are near and rolls out of the way so you don't fall over it. I think mine sneaks up behind me when I'm not looking. I wonder how many vacuum victims have be treated for injuries sustained while sweeping? And how about having an iRobot® to clean carpeted stairways?

5. A passenger car seat that flips back like a living room recliner, complete with footrest. I'm a terrible rider, but I think long trips wouldn't be so bad if they could be made in comfort.

6. A gas pump monitor that detects the driver who leaves his car parked at the pump while he shops in the convenience store. Those morons who order their MTO sandwiches, fuss over making to-go coffee, use the restroom, or any other time consuming acts should be identified for the people waiting in line for gas. A public announcement such as, "Will the inconsiderate man, who left the Dodge Dart parked at pump 3, move it immediately or be subject to the ire of the waiting motorists." I think threats and public humiliation are in order.

7. A perfect pair of panties. I would like a style that flattens the tummy; lifts the butt; doesn't roll at the waistband; is wedgie proof; lasts through hundreds of washings without fading, stretching, losing elasticity, or coming apart at the seams; is inexpensive; and, last but not least, is sexy. Have I missed any feature necessary to earn the rating of "perfect?"

8. A laser beam that would incinerate insects and spiders (webs, too) when they were shot with it, but not damage surrounding materials. Flyswatters are useless at a distance and these home invaders have become swatter-resistant over the years. I suck spiders up in the vac, but it sure would be more fun to zap them. Housework definitely needs some levity.

Golfing and Stuff

I apologize to my readers for not posting more frequently, but I'm working on lowering my golf handicap. I know a few guys I want to best, and I want to continue winning money in the swats we have at the club. Nothing is more satisfying than taking money from men during a game that has traditionally been considered a male-dominated sport.

I've also been working with an elderly man that got involved in one of those Internet "make money while you sleep" deals. He paid me to get him signed up as a program affiliate against my protests that his chances of making "easy" money are slim to none. Nevertheless, I have spent countless unreimbursed hours trying to help the man recoup his initial investment and my compensation because I would want someone to do the same if it were my father.

More Weird News

2008-08-25T20:17:00.006-04:00

Riding Bare-butt?

The "World Naked Bike Ride" took place in St. Louis recently. The ride ( a protest to society's dependence on oil) has been staged in 70 cities world-wide since 2004. St. Louis police guarded to ensure bicyclists wore the bare minimum - thongs, pasties, loin cloths, bathing suits, and body painting. One rider got away with wearing only a pink derby hat.

Hmmmm....... I can understand all the "bare minimums" except for the pasties and the body paint. I have visions of the riders ripping through the gears of their 10-speeds to attain a vigorous clip. Suddenly, pasties start flying off in all directions, mini Frisbees threatening to poke out eyes. Riders, caught in the pasty blizzard, zip and zag to avoid the crossfire. A massive pile-up ensues. Kissing the pavement nude would create a lot of bush burns. Oops! I mean brush burns, not to mention the injuries to dangling parts caught in spokes and gears.

Body paint. Now that camouflages body parts from youthful eyes. What are they thinking here? Painted twin soccer balls, peanut M&M's, Easter eggs, or a pair of bulging eyes? I picked large objects to illustrate my visions. I doubt small-busted women would have gone for duos of raisins, jack balls, or peas in a pod. How about the male frontal view. A banana tree, an aardvark, or a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey board (tail attached) for the guys? A creative artist would have a field day with these human canvasses!

When Ya Gotta Go......

Washington State Police cited a driver for spilling tons of dirt along a Seattle highway and backing up traffic for hours. His crime? "Driving with wheels off the road."

First, I didn't know you could be cited for not driving between the lines. Maybe it's only an offense in WA because senior citizens in PA do it all the time. Usually, they are more off the road than on.

Second, this driver had a real emergency. He needed a restroom badly and didn't know where he'd find one since he was unfamiliar with the area. Pulling off the road to do his business seemed like the only choice at the time. How was he to know his truck would slip down an embankment and dump 49 tons of river sediment? When ya gotta go, ya gotta go. If you're at that gut-bursting stage, you're not thinking clearly. We've all been there. I think the police should have shown some sympathy and waived the charges. The embarrassment of causing a dump trying to take a dump is enough punishment. I'm assuming the 27-year-old relieved himself before the cops came or they would have cited him for indecent exposure, too.

Just Not His Day

A Clinton, PA man swerved to avoid hitting a deer just before 2 a.m. recently. While doing so, an ash from a cigarette fell onto a newspaper lying on the passenger-side floor. The paper caught fire. The man tried to beat out the flames devouring the newspaper, but ran into a guardrail. He escaped from the car and watched while it was consumed by the fire.

Jeez... I can usually tell I'm going to have a bad day when my electric toothbrush gets caught in my hair first thing in the morning. It doesn't appear as if this poor dude had an omen or took one seriously or he would have found a hole to hide in until the next day. This has to be one of those events that people claim are really funny much later. If this were me, it would be a long time before I found the humor in auto-toasting. The irony is he was trying to avoid damage to his car by missing the deer! This story has the makings of a "life comes at you fast..." TV commercial.

Lauryn Williams

2008-08-07T21:02:00.022-04:00

I'm departing from my usual writing style today and getting serious. I want to introduce you to a former student of mine, Lauryn Williams. You may know her as the World's Fastest Woman or the two-time Olympian US track star that won a silver medal four years ago. Lauryn is in Beijing now preparing to go for the gold for a second time. I'm not going to list all her athletic accomplishments because they are numerous and you can Google her to discover them. I want you to know the Lauryn I know, the 5'3" dynamo with the huge heart and the infectious smile.

Lauryn grew up in tiny Rochester, PA, and went to a K-12, one building school. She was well liked by faculty and students alike. She and her long-time friend, Devan, have great stories to tell of their adventures together. Although, knowing those two, I doubt they'll share all of them! I think everyone suspected Lauryn was on a journey to greatness. Splitting her time between her divorced parents, mom in Detroit and dad in Rochester, was probably difficult at times, but Lauryn seems to thrive when the pressure is on.

After graduating from high school, Lauryn continued her education at the University of Miami, earning a major in finance in 3 1/2 years. All through her schooling, Lauryn set and broke track records at both competitive levels.

Living in Miami after turning pro, Lauryn volunteers her off-track time to hearing impaired students, the homeless, and at-risk kids. To those who know her, it's no surprise that she donates her time to help others. It's amazing to us that she can make the time given her busy schedule. She is also part of the USA Track and Field's "Be a Champion" community outreach program. The Lauryn Williams Dynamic Female Athlete Scholarship funds young women of academic and athletic excellence. In 2006, Lauryn was given the Visa Humanitarian Athlete of the Year Award.

Lauryn sports a Mickey Mouse tattoo, loves her Great Dane, and calls her best friend's dad "Poppy". For all her fame, she is totally unassuming and down-to-earth. She blogs to keep her fans informed and involved in her life. For as long as I've known Lauryn, she has been focused and up-beat. She finds humor in life experiences and willingly shares it with others.

What's important to Lauryn? Family, friends, education, and community service. What makes Lauryn Lauryn? Hard work, integrity, and humility. How do I know these things? As part of the saying goes....she "walks the walk" everyday.

Many of my former students have become successful in all walks of life, but Lauryn is a standout. I'll be screaming my head off for her when she runs the 100 meters in China. Not because I care if the US wins a medal, but because Lauryn will have achieved another of her goals through dedication and determination. If she wins another medal, all the better. She deserves it. But, over time, the memory of who wins what fades. People remember those who have touched their lives in special ways. Win or lose, she will still be a "gold medal" role model and humanitarian. That will be her legacy of importance.

Sunday, August 24

I'm sure some of you know by now that Lauryn did not do well in the Olympics. In her individual event (100m sprint), she finished 4th behind the three Jamaicans who swept the race. It looked like she was 3rd, but it was not to be. We've heard it, seen it, and read it. Lauryn didn't get the hand-off in the 4 X 100m relay and the team was disqualified. The criticism will blanket her like Beijing smog, and the media will choke us to death with it. The incident was disappointing, but Lauryn and the American team will live through it. Hopefully, US citizens will be forgiving in light of Lauryn's other accomplishment.

Greatly through Lauryn's efforts, the reputation of America's track athletes has been improved, confidence has been restored. She's welcomed people through the media into her life and even into her Miami home. She's proven she has nothing to hide. No one could have done a better job, mainly because of the person Lauryn is on and off the track. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps that's more important than winning a medal. Finishing the relay with her "never quit" attitude and her way of handling the criticism speaks volumes about the strong, mature person she is.

We should thank Lauryn for her hard work and dedication in representing the USA at the Olympics and in meets around the world. Rest assured that even through failure, she will gain insight from the experience, capitalize on what she's learned, and make herself a better person. We should be proud of her and wish her continued health and success

In the News

2008-07-26T11:38:00.011-04:00

Groom Assaulted!

Police were called to a local Veterans of Foreign Wars post at 1 a.m., where the found a man bloodied, bruised and sitting on the ground outside the hall. The groom reported that he was assaulted during his wedding reception by his best man. He was taken to a local hospital for treatment. The best man admitted to the assault.

Obviously, the groom should have chosen a better man for the ceremony. Let's hope he had better taste in women.

Who Needs In-flight Action Movies!

A domestic flight was diverted after a passenger stripped nude and later tried to open an emergency exit door before being subdued by the members of a professional soccer team and others. Tie wraps were placed on the man until he was taken into custody in Oklahoma City.

Now, that's what I call entertainment! I've been on plenty of flights that could have used a little action to spice things up. Since some airlines have discontinued movies, maybe they should think Reality TV skits. The most fun I've had on a flight was watching cheap, old people filch bags of nuts off the flight attendant's cart while she wasn't looking. Ooh, that was before the airlines snatched the gratis goodies from on board to save money. Then they started charging for baggage so we couldn't bring our own case of nuts for free.

Reverend Needs His Own Revival

A pastor brought out a dirt bike during a church service to demonstrate the concept of unity, showing how the rider would become one with the bike. Somehow, the machine got away from him and in unity, of course, they drove off a 5-foot platform into the first row of seats. The pastor sustained a broken wrist. No report on the injuries to the bike.

I'll bet that awoke the sermon sleepers! Revival preachers used to be Bible-thumper's, but I guess this younger generation needs more to hold its attention. Nothing like a man-of-the-cloth doing a modern day impression of a winging angel to accomplish that. His wife reported that her husband's pride was bruised. I'll bet there's more than that black and blue under his robe.

Clipper Killing

A Milwaukee County man is accused of shooting his lawn mower because it wouldn't start. A criminal complaint was filed against him. He told the police, "I can do that. It's my lawn mower and my yard, so I can shoot it if I want."

Right on, brother! I had a mower that won't start pull after pull. It's frustrating because, by the time you get the dang thing going, you're too tired to cut the grass. I cussed at it, kicked it, and threw things at it, but I never thought of shooting it. At least he knows why it won't start now. I say the man should be allowed to get away with "mowder."

On a Serious Note...

Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon University computer scientist, died yesterday. Randy's "last lecture"about facing terminal cancer became an Internet sensation and a best-selling book. He was 47 and left a wife and three children.

With a heavy heart, I read the obit in our local paper this morning. I only got to know Randy through the media like many of you. Even so, he and I had some things in common which are the reasons I think made me so sad as I read. We were both teachers, always hoping our students would find value in what we said to them about life and living. Carnegie Mellon is 30 miles south of where I live and near the university where I did my graduate work. Randy loved to laugh and valued a good sense of humor. I do, too. Randy was a writer and a blogger like I am. I know I am not and never will be the person Randy was to his family, friends, students, and even strangers. I don't share with you our similarities for comparison. I guess I'm trying to explain to myself why the death of a person I had never met affected like it did. Randy touched millions souls by living courageously and dying humbly. Thanks for the lecture, Randy.

Beginning Writers

2008-07-07T14:05:00.002-04:00

Beginning writers are the Rodney Dangerfields of the literary world. They get no respect. When I first took pen and paper in hand, my family and friends reacted with mixed emotions. Many of them believed I was going through a stage of sorts like thumb sucking or bed wetting. Given time I would outgrow it.

My husband decided to humor me. "You're a wife, mother, teacher, and landlady. You don't have much time left for that kind of stuff, but take your best shot."

Indifference was a reaction, too. "I hear you're doing some writing," remarked my mother-in-law.

"Yes, I'm working on..."

"Have you seen the price of cantaloupes? It's outrageous."

A few people took my new interest seriously. Tom, a good friend and avid reader, was encouraging. I suppose it's his love for the written word and his secret desire to write that makes him different.

I started my writing venture as slowly and cautiously as a baby tests his wobbly legs for that first step. I enrolled in a writing course that offered one to one instruction. Knowing my work had to please only one person, gave me the courage I needed to begin. It was a valuable experience. I received the gentle prodding and endless encouragement needed in those early days. I also learned to handle rejection and criticism which I later found to be a large part of the writing business.

I wrote our school/community newsletter and edited one for a businessman whose products were records (yeah, that long ago!) and tropical fish. He "paid" me in LP's and black mollies. Friends asked me to compose complaint letters, thank-you notes, job proposals, PR material, and college composition assignments - all gratis work. They thought "freelance" had something to do with the compensation I was to receive at that point in my career.

As the months passed, more and more people discovered that I was writing or at least trying. It was a discouraging time because they asked questions like, "What have you sold? How much money have you made?" I regarded them as personal as, "What are your measurements?" Since I hadn't sold anything at that point, I'd ardently explain how difficult it is for a neophyte to break into print. From their facial expressions, it was evident they translated my explanations to, "I'm not published because my writing stinks." I rationalized that my first sale would change their attitudes so I wrote and submitted more material.

As so often happens with writers, I read a story in a children's magazine and thought, "I can write a story like that." I did and submitted it. Weeks went by and then came a reply. "We are holding your manuscript for future publication."

A year later I had my first byline and check. It's impossible to explain the thrill and satisfaction a writer feels the first time he sees his name and work in print. The success was doubly sweet for me because I hadn't finished my writing course and my instructor hadn't read the manuscript. I had done it all on my own.

At first I tried to keep the sale quiet, telling only my husband and a few close friends. I really didn't want to answer the questions I anticipated. The check's amount was the same size as one of my measurements and not the largest one at that. In time I used half of the money to buy extra copies of the magazine.

In my naivety, I thought people would finally accept me as a writer and not as a teacher, mother, or landlady that writes stuff. It was not to be. A teacher friend said, "Eleven more and you'll be a writer."

"What do you mean 'eleven more'?" I inquired.

"Oh, a person isn't really a writer until he's been published a dozen times."

To this day, I haven't determined how the occupation can be related to the selling units of donuts and eggs. Could it be that it takes twelve sales in order to realize a profit large enough to purchase a dozen of either?

Tom had flowers delivered to the school instead of my home. The attached card read, "I always thought you were good. Love Tom." Since most of the staff was unaware of the sale, the gift stirred the gossip pot. Instead of being described as talented and creative, the adjectives I longed to hear, I was labeled terribly indiscreet.

I couldn't even squeeze a little respect from the bank teller that cashed my check. "This is payment for my first magazine article," I said.

"Oh, how nice," she replied. "What magazine was it?"

"Playmate. It's a national publication," I added.

She wrinkled her nose then completed the transaction in silence. I imagined she was awe-struck that living, breathing writer stood at her window. As I left I heard her say to a co-worker, "She writes for a men's girlie magazine."

My children were impressed with my publication, but it didn't take much to excite them. I'd dazzle them all the time with my nickle-behind-the-ear magic. When my article was reprinted in a high caliber Australian magazine, my eight-year-old remarked, "That's really good, Mom. Little kids are reading my mom's story and I don't even know what state Australia is in!"

Ironically, the only people that respected me for what I was doing were editors. Nearly every rejection slip's greeting was "Dear Author."

I've checked the dictionary and the definition of "writer" is simply "a person who writes." There's no mention of money, a dozen articles, or a required number of books. I do think it should say something about attitude and guts, though. Using clips and income to determine a writer's success is fair, but they shouldn't be used to judge whether he is or isn't one.

I don't make much money, have a fat file of clips, or a bestseller on the lists. I do query, research, write, and edit. I study the market, read sample copies, and send for guidelines. I sit on a pile of rejected manuscripts instead of a desk chair and have "SASE" tattooed on my forearm. I AM A WRITER!

My New Diet Plan

2008-06-25T20:27:00.006-04:00

I have 30 pounds I'd like to lose so I've devised an ingenious plan to shed them. There are some ground rules I've laid for myself. First, I will not use appetite suppressors or fat burners, etc. I put enough chemicals into my body just ingesting my daily meds.

Second, I will not exercise. I believe that exercise is detrimental. For example, my neighbor used to walk every day. One morning she tramped into a pothole, fell, and broke her leg. She also had to wield a big stick to fend off aggressive dogs.

My friend, Bill, is the CEO of the local YMCA. He worked out daily until he needed four stents put into his heart. If the CEO of a "Y" can't stay healthy by exercising, I suspect there is some flawed logic behind the hype of daily physical exertion. Is exercise worth the risk involved? I think not.

I've tried various cardio and aerobic routines and haven't found any that suit me, I used to weight train, but a gym full of ripped, half-naked men grunting and groaning created an environment that was far too sexually charged for me so I quit. Besides, inviting muscle strains, sprains, and pulls isn't my idea of a good time.

A treadmill was my next try. However, if I'm going to expend that much energy walking for 45 minutes, I want changes of scenery and a Dairy Queen at the end of the trail. I need immediate gratification.

Step-aerobics was a consideration, but with my lack of coordination, I nixed the idea. I fall up stairs so the idea of trying to get up and down on a little box to the beat of music seemed somewhat foolhardy.

When land exercising wasn't for me, I took to the water - water walking and aerobics. The drawback was that I hate being wet. I believe the feeling is a manifestation of a post traumatic stress disorder stemming from a bad, in-utero experience.

Don't get me wrong. I do get exercise when golfing. I walk onto the greens on all 18 holes because I'm not allowed to drive the riding cart on them. I've worked up a sweat many times, too. Usually, when I'm running low on money and a slot machine hasn't hit a jackpot to give me more playing time.

Since pills, herbs, and exercise aren't part of the blueprint to a skinnier me, I plan to eat and drink my way to a size 6. Not every diet is right for every person so I'm going to try several. And since diets only work for me during the initial period, I'm going to switch often. Ingenious, right?

First, I'm going with the Fruit Flush plan. Day 1 starts with high protein shakes to trick my body into burning its own fat for energy. Days 2 and 3 are the cleansing phase where I'll eat seasonal fruit every two hours. For dinner I'll have a protein smoothie, 6 cups of raw-veggie salad and 1/2 an avocado. It's estimated that I'll lose 10 pounds over the three days. That's 1/3 of my goal! I'll probably add several handfuls of Jelly Belly jelly beans for good measure because they contain the filling, fat-flushing fiber pectin.

Day 4 I'll begin the Ice Cream Diet. I'm sure this will be my favorite. If a body doesn't get enough calcium, fat cells are triggered to store more fat. To stop those rascals from multiplying, I'll have to eat ice cream every day for three days. Reduced calorie choices, of course. There was some fine print connected with this regiment, but I couldn't read it due to it's small size. The info must not have been that important or the publisher would have used larger type. I suspect some of you are a little skeptical of this plan, but rest assured that I'll be drinking plenty of Wu Yi tea with my rocky-road ice cream. Wu Yi is a 400-year-old Chinese weight loss solution! The ice cream and tea combination should produce a net loss of 10 pounds. That's a conservative guess based on research, but I could probably lose more if I doubled the ice cream servings.

O.K. 20 pounds lost in 6 days. Time to switch to the Blood Type Diet. Dr. Peter J. Adamo states that we should look at our blood type to determine which foods we should be eating. His premise is that a person (that's me) with type A blood had ancestors that were farmers, therefore I should be vegetarian and avoid meat and dairy products. For weight loss, I should also shun kidney and lima beans and wheat. Soy foods and pineapple will be my staples and there is no portion control. Mmmmm. I'll lose 9 pound in 11 days.

I'll only have 1 pound more to lose after 17 days, but I'm going with the Moon Diet as a chaser. I must begin the diet at a specific time when the moon enters a new phase. Within the next 24 hours I'll only drink water and juice (freshly squeezed). I'll be shooting for 6-8 pints of liquid to trickle through my body. Simply, the gravity of the moon not only influences the oceans and rivers, but it makes your body let go of its excess fluids. I guess this is when I surrender all those cups of Wu Yi tea. One day sheds 6 pounds so my 30 pound goal is met with flab to spare in only 18 days. Since the moon cycle changes once weekly, if I practice this diet every week, I can lose 24 pounds a month!

There is a slight chance that I may not lose the weight I want, but all is not lost. My belly fat can be of scientific value to the world. Really! Fat burns quicker and hotter than meat (muscle). Throw a fatty steak on a hot grill to test that theory. So, when I'm cremated my fatty body will burn quicker and hotter using less of the fossil fuel to heat the oven. The less fossil fuel burned translates to fewer greenhouse gases produced that rise into the atmosphere. Fewer gasses means less global warming. Keeping my fat benefits the world!

The Dogs Locked Us Out!

2008-06-06T14:59:00.003-04:00

Traveling with three dogs is much like traveling with children. We have the one that gets motion sickness and has to be medicated. We have one that insists on having a window seat, and one that won't calm down and enjoy the ride until we are miles from home. Unlike children, though, our dogs can be left in a motel room while we relax in a restaurant.

On a recent trip, my husband unlocked the motel room door after we returned from dinner. As he pushed it open, the swing bar door guard engaged with a sickening "whap." "The dogs locked us out," Hank said along with a few obscenities. I'm stunned into imaging how three lap dogs could manage to swing a bar that's almost five feet off the floor. Did they erect a canine column by standing on hind legs on each others' shoulders? Top dog flips the guard bar as payback for being left behind?

"Max probably did it by jumping off the back of the chair, " Hank said. Max, a wire-haired dachshund, is mischievous and resourceful, but surely flying is beyond his abilities. Max leaped off the back of the chair toward the door with the intent of flipping the bar at the apex of his free-fall? Now, I know a rational person would disbelieve either scenario, but who is rational when discovering they've been locked out of their room by a mini-kennel of canine midgets?

We tried several ways to release the bar with the tools we carry with us, but nothing worked. Rest assured that those door guards will stop a would-be intruder.

Hank discussed the problem with a very confused desk clerk who deferred the situation to the hotel manager. Via cell phone, Hank repeatedly explained our predicament to the proprietor who had a limited understanding of the English language. Finally the manager said, "Ahh, but that cannot happen." Hank assured him that it did and asked if there was some tool-of-the-trade that would open the door. "No, because that cannot happen," he replied. "We give you another room."

My husband pointed out that for many unpleasant reasons that wasn't a good solution. Finally, the manager asked for suggestions. "I can break into the room, but I'll have to damage the guard," Hank said. The manager agreed and apologised profusely for and event he didn't believe could happen and certainly one over which he had no control.

Using a cutting tool we had, Hank proceeded to gnaw through the metal bar. The dogs barked and raced around the room upon seeing their masters through the narrow opening around the door. Meanwhile, other guests returned and arrived for the evening. They watch curiously as we broke into a room in broad daylight. I was surprised no one called the police.

Once inside, we solved the mystery of how the door guard got engaged. The screws in the bracket that held the sideways "U" bar of the guard were loose causing the bar to move slightly toward the bolt with every vibration. A combination of guests banging their doors shut and the dogs jumping on our door when they heard someone outside caused enough movement in the bar that it eventually crept over the securing bolt. Hank pushing open the door was all it took to put us on the outside looking in. Our furry kids were absolved.

In the middle of that same night, a man used a ruse to try to get the guests in the room next to us to open their door and give him money. Would-be thieves targeted motels near the interstate at which to rob travelers who were fooled into opening doors for them. When we learned of the incident the next morning, it was unsettling to know that our security door guard had been mangled in our own break-in attempt.

It Doesn't Make Sense!

2008-05-26T11:00:00.012-04:00

I don't profess to be the brightest crayon in the box, but I do have a masters degree and various education-related certificates. I'm a logical thinker, but there are some things that just don't make sense to me. Some of them should be of national concern and some are just annoyingly nonsensical.

Nay, I say...recently 35 Senators (Clinton and Obama included) voted against making English our country's official language. The Constitution and Bill of Rights were written in English, right? I'd say that argues that English was and is our national language...law or no law.

Fly the friendly skies...airline tickets prices continue to rise, there are fewer flights and available seats, "on-time" statistics are low, and customer service is questionable. A passengers' bill of rights? Now the airlines are going to charge $25 or higher for your first piece of baggage. The industry reports a drop in reservation numbers. Dah! If you want someone to be your customer, you don't screw them six ways from Sunday.

The revolving door... 40% (or higher) of the prisoners released from facilities are back in jail within two to three years. Obviously, any jail term less than "life" is not a deterrent for some. So...give'em life. Use the money that would have been spent on trials, jail in and out processing, transportation, etc. and build more prisons. I like the "three strikes, you're out..." I mean you're 'in.'

Treading water for years...colleges and universities should hand out life preservers instead of diplomas because many graduates are way over their heads in debt. The rich can afford to buy the sheepskin, and the poor get nearly a free ride with need-dependent aid. But, the middle class student wades deeper and deeper into debt each year or decides against higher education because of cost. The average school loan debt is around $20,000 and takes years to satisfy. Parents aren't saving enough for their children's educations because they're still paying for their own!

Hide the dummy...heterogeneous grouping in schools is common and mountains of data supporting both pros and cons of the issue can be found. After 34 years experience teaching in a public school, I can tell you the real results of such a practice. The teacher designs a lesson geared to reach the "middle." The more intellectual children aren't challenged, and the bottom students are dragged along or left in the dust. The top students get lazy and the bottom get discouraged. It's nearly impossible to meet the needs of all the students during a 40 minute class. School's really group kids this way because it's cheaper, easier to schedule, and they don't want the parental flack generated when the slower learners are exposed.

Retro-man...an 85-year-old man's obituary is topped with a photo of him as a newly enlisted sailor, fresh out of high school. Now, come on. Anyone who would have known his looks back then probably has Alzheimer's now or is dead, too! I think I'm going to have my first baby photo published with my obit. The one of me in the frayed, nursery-issue T-shirt and knit beanie cap.

First in line...I'm driving down the road with no one in front or behind me. I see a car ahead waiting to enter the roadway. When I'm almost on top of it, the driver pulls out and causes me to brake. The car continues at a sped slower than what I was cruising originally and below the posted speed limit. Now, why didn't the driver just wait until I passed to pull out? There should be a law that you can legally ram someone that does that. "Cow catchers" should be made standard equipment on the family minivan.

If something doesn't make sense to you, email me your thoughts. I'll publish them on this blog. If you can make some sense out of any of the above, email the logic to me. I'll spend less sleepless nights, if you do.