family, humor, kids, life, memories, moments, photography

Sweet memories…

I once saw a Smith Family cartoon in the Sunday paper that was just perfect, I so wish I had saved it. It showed the little boy hurting his knee while out playing, and then you see all the places he stopped and played on his way home. But once he hit the door and saw his Mom he clutched his knee and started crying. This cartoon came to mind when my son burst through the door one day, and fell on the floor outside the kitchen door and rolled around clutching his knee. I was amused, he was too old for such dramatics, and I was thinking about how to react when he got up and stomped his way upstairs. Evidently his knee wasn’t that bad, I thought, so that was good. I continued with whatever I had been doing, and after a little bit I was surprised, and more than a little amused, when I heard him stomp his way back down again. He was still mad, obviously. He stood in the doorway, hands on his hips, and as indignantly as a 9 year old could manage he said, “If I joined the Army… and I got shot… and I called you up and told you about it… you’d probably tell me to rub it and it will feel better!”
When he got to the part where he called me I couldn’t help it, I started laughing, and he got madder, which made me laugh even more, and finally he couldn’t stand it and started laughing also. I wonder if he remembers that favorite moment of mine.  If I ever get dementia I hope that’s the last memory I lose. He was a fun kid to raise.
In the year that I knew her I told my raising-the-kids stories to Mary Ann, my friend and former nun, and she enjoyed a little glimpse into family life. Some of the stories I told her caused her to be glad she had never married, “So that’s what I missed”, she’d say. Talking with her brought back memories of things I hadn’t thought of in years, wonderful memories, and I wonder if they might have been lost forever if not for her. I told her that our becoming friends had done as much for me as it had for her, maybe more…

1-3in1972

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boats, fun, humor, life goes on, memories, moments, photography, sunset

Christmas Boat Parades…

In most circumstances a sunset photo is the grand finale of a photo shoot, but in this instance it was only the beginning.  I’ve been hearing announcements of boat parades being held in neighboring towns this week, and truth be told, I know they used to do them in Maryland also.  Now I wonder why I never went to one?  But I saw that members of the new photo group were going to the Dunedin boat parade on Saturday night, and I thought it was a good opportunity to join them.  And it’s a good thing I did because it took some finagling to get my camera set up to account for the lights, my lack of tripod, and the movement of the boats, so kudos and thanks to Kate for all her help.

There were lots of boats, large and small, and they paraded right in front of us for judging.  I was tickled by the crowd who cheered for them all no matter how simple or elaborate the decorations.  They even cheered for a guy on a paddle board with his dog, even though he wasn’t part of the parade.  And the police boat when it docked at it’s spot in the marina.  This is the exact area where we spent my son and daughter-in-law’s wedding weekend almost 20 years ago.  I could never have imagined where life would take me all these years later…

 

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coping, friends, healing, humor, photography, silliness, technology

Losing it…

I feel like I ought to call 911 and report a missing person. Siri is missing! I don’t know if it’s the fault of the new replacement phone, or the fact that I ran all the updates that I had previously ignored in order to set up the replacement phone, but Siri’s voice has changed, and I don’t like it one bit. There are days that go by that Siri is the only person who talks back to me when I talk to her. The dogs are the silent types, although Ozzie does his darnedest to tell me things at times. Usually that the water bowl is empty. I used to tell Siri to set my alarm and she would say, “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” This new one doesn’t sound as friendly, or caring, a lot less like a person… I’m tired of losing people…

1012siri2

blessings, coping, faith, home, humor, life, simple things

Sunny side up…

When you are a rosy glasses type of person, and always have been, it’s good to know that that’s how you are always going to be no matter what life may bring you.  Nothing can bring you down for long.  Each and every day brings a smile at something or someone, no matter how fleeting the moment may be. I do think that when I was young(er) I looked for those moments to be bigger, more significant, but in this quiet little life I’m leading now I’m just as happy to enjoy the moment, but return to my peaceful, familiar, routine. People call it looking on the bright side, but I think of it as living life sunny side up.sunnysideup

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dogs, home, home improvements, humor, silliness

The man of my dreams…

I know I already ranted over the idea of ‘dream’ houses, and ‘dream’ kitchens, mostly because the young gals I see on HGTV annoy the heck out of me by expecting to have these things without earning them first. Drives me nuts. But I also wonder if they realize that what constitutes your dream house, or your dream kitchen, won’t be the same your whole life.

Kind of like your dream man. Early on in my first marriage I realized that I wasn’t married to my dream man. No, my kids were little and I decided that it would be fantastic if I was married to a pediatrician. I have an aversion to going to the doctor whenever you are a little bit sick. I have a lot of respect for the body’s ability to fight off germ-y invaders, and a little temperature elevation is just your body doing it’s job. Which is okay when I’m talking about me, but I did feel slightly guilty over making these sorts of choices for my kids. But I did and guess what, they survived. But having a pediatrician in the family would have saved me a lot of angst along the way.

Once I got over my pediatrician phase the man of my dreams became a handy man. A jack of all trades Bob Vila type. I drove two not-particularly-handy husbands nuts by finishing a home improvement project and immediately announcing the next item on my wish list. “You’re never satisfied” was a phrase that I believe both husbands used. I did most of these projects myself, putting up wallpaper, painting, stenciling, taking down wallpaper. But my talents have limits. So when this sort of thing happens I’m up a creek.brokendoor

Charley wasn’t much of handyman but he would have jumped right on this particular repair and taken care of it. Probably with a lot of cussing, but at least it would be done. Or he would have called someone to do it for him.  He wanted this place locked up like Fort Knox at all times, so this would have driven him crazy.  I’m contemplating whether I ought to even attempt to change out the door lever or just call someone. As long as the door is locked I’m okay. The other French door is also stuck from humidity and I’m now afraid to yank on that handle for fear that it too will just come off in my hand.  I still have access to the back yard through my master bathroom. (It’s a Florida thing I think.)  But convincing Ozzie, the uncoordinated mastiff, that he ought to walk across the bathroom floor to go out that door took some doing. Roughly five feet of bathroom tile to traverse and the first time he attempted it his legs went right out from under him. But it leads to the same back yard the dogs always use, or I can let them out the front door also, but as soon as they come back in they stand at this door, ‘their’ door, and wait for me to let them out. Do they even pee out front, or are they determined to wait to use this door to go out and take care of business? Kind of like preferring to go home and use your own bathroom.

Several days of this brought me to the enough is enough stage. I picked up the lever and stuck it back on the remnants of the knob, and it worked! Opened the latch at least.  Allowed me let the dogs out ‘their’ door and make them happy.  Turn the latch and slam the door hard enough and it will close tightly enough that the lock will engage. Ha! And I thought I couldn’t fix it myself.

fixed

I see that the next man of my dreams ought to be a woodworker, that door looks terrible.  And the screens on the lanai need to be redone.  And if it ever stops raining the sprinklers need work…

chickens, Florida wildlife, home, humor, nature, on closer examination, photography, squirrels

Intruders…

There it was again, the rustling in the overgrown palmetto at the edge of the yard. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She should feel relieved,  if the dogs didn’t bark, it must be nothing, she thought to herself. Where were the dogs anyhow? She couldn’t see either one of them. She should walk around to the front of the house and see where they had gotten to, but she heard the noise again and was rooted to the spot. She had always been afraid of that overgrown tangle of Florida foliage. Always wondered what might be in there. Which partly accounted for why it was so overgrown, since she couldn’t bring herself to take even the long handled pruners out there to trim things up. She had turned toward the front to look for the dogs, but behind her she heard it again. Taking a deep breath she turned, and camouflaged so well against the tree that she could barely see it, was the intruder.chickenintruderBut there were more than just this one intruder…

 

Her four-legged bodyguards must have been asleep on the job… but wait!  That was written yesterday, but the bodyguards were on the ball today letting her know something was out there.  Now this really is an intruder.  armadilla