It's A New Day

The New Routine

To say I am not a morning person is an understatement. Left on my own, I'm still sleeping soundly at 8am, an hour when most of the world is moving and groving. What can I say...my body clock is set for a different time zone. Oh, I managed to drag myself out of bed and be at work/school all those years when I had to but then there was no other choice. Retirement, however, is full of choices...and I choose not to get up early.

That's how it has been anyway; now it seems there's a new routine.

My feet have been hitting the floor before 7am on Tuesdays and Thursdays since early this year in order to dress, eat and make the short drive to the gym for yoga. While I'd prefer something other than an 8:00am class, it's the only choice in my area and I enjoy yoga enough I'm willing to make that sacrifice two days a week. It worked out especially good that I was up at 7am this morning as Wayne needed a ride to the golf course when the battery on his truck decided to play dead.

And the last two weeks I've just stayed at the gym after yoga to get in my miles. We've had record-breaking heat lately so walking in air conditioning seems like a really good idea, and since I'm there already, I'll just walk at 9am and be done with it for the day. It's a different kind of workout on the treadmill instead of the street so I'm enjoying that change.

Shocking as it may be (at least to Dr. Dale), I've also been up before my usual lazy hour to walk in the neighborhood two days a week. We eat out with friends on two evenings, making it impossible to walk after dinner...well, safely anyway. We've had record-setting heat here these past two weeks so afternoon walks are a thing of the past, at least until fall. There seems to be no choice but to walk in the morning on the nights we're going to eat out as I know I'll get bored if every walk is on the treadmill.

So that means ol' dead-head me is now crawling out from under the covers bright and early four days out of every seven. Don't worry...it's only temporary; a leopard can't change his spots.

A Memorable Day

Memorial Day always seems to conjure up images of family gatherings, outdoor barbecue and some sort of water fun to kick off the unofficial start of summer. We managed to fit in all three in a way that was untraditional for us but certainly memorable.

Kayla is down in Biloxi visiting Brad for a few days now that school is out for her and while he's off most of the time she's there, he did have to work today so we headed over to spend the day with her. Here was one of our stops on the day's activities:

Now if we'd just been driving down the highway and saw the gator farm, we'd have never stopped but Wayne was checking area attractions on the Internet and it was the airboat tour that caught his eye. Both of us have always wanted to ride in an airboat and when we asked Kayla if she'd be up for it, we got an enthusiastic yes. She was, however, far less interested in holding the baby alligator, even with a rubber band around his snout.  Believe it or not, that one is about two years old and he was probably about 18" long from his nose to the tip of his tale.

There were about a dozen of us in the airboat which headed out into the swamp. We've had several days of record-setting heat so it felt good to be skimming along the top of the water with the temperatures in the mid-90's again today. Narrow waterways like the one above opened up into small lake-like areas and then we'd take another water-path through the trees to the next open space, all the while looking for gators.

They weren't hard to find. This one, in fact, came crawling out of the reeds when called. She answers to the name "Stumpy"...I didn't ask if that referred to her physique or to the fact that she chomped off some poor unsuspecting tourist's arm when it was dangled too close to the water. Actually, she came looking for her favorite treat...marshmallows. It seems the airboat drivers were in the habit of tossing them to the gators up until a few weeks ago when the state game people told them to stop. Now the gators are going through sugar withdrawal.

Those ripples in the water are another gator swimming toward the boat. When the driver imitated the sound of a baby gator and splashed his hand in the water, the gator made a bee-line for the boat thinking there was a baby in distress. He wasn't coming to rescue it; he was looking for dinner.

Only about 1% of the gators born in the wild survive with the other 99% being part of the food chain for other animals, including larger gators. So while it would be easy to criticize this outfitter for feeding marshmallows to wild alligators, they're also collecting eggs from the nests then hatching and caring for the young gators until they're big enough to return to the swamp. There were a dozen or so 4'-5' gators in a concrete enclosure the airboat driver said would be released in another few weeks. Even they would be just snack size for the really big fella we saw. Well, technically we only saw part of him as there was a lot still submerged but they estimated he weighed close to 1,000 pounds. The area lost so many gators during Katrina, they're working hard to restore the alligator population.

It wasn't all narrow waterways...we had a few wide-open spaces where the guide got the boat moving at a good clip. We skimmed over grass just like you see on CSI: Miami and, of course, he managed to splash some water up on us too. I think Miss Kayla would have made a much more careful driver.

What better way to end the day than with a cook-out...we just let someone else do the work. In this case, it was the folks at The Shed. The decor is intentionally backwoods...where else would you find a fire pit made from an old cast iron bathtub...but the barbecue is pretty darn good.

And just like that the day was done. Close the book on Memorial Day 2012...it was fun and different and memorable. Best of all, it was spent with family, and that's how it should be.

A Day of Remembrance

I grew up in the middle of the Vietnam War. While we sat in our high school government class and debated the pros and cons of whether our country should be fighting a battle to stop Communism on foreign soil, the sad reality was that the male portion of the students seated there were likely to be drafted, and thus in the middle of that war, when their education came to an end. Many from my class served. Some sustained injuries; one gave his life.

I suppose that's why I found the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington, D.C., so moving when I first saw it...and each subsequent time as well. All those names. Brothers, sons, fathers, friends. The black marble seemed to stretch forever but then it must in order to hold more than 58,000 names. With the flag in the foreground and the reflection of the Washington monument framed in clouds in the background, one could almost get lost in the beauty of it. Almost...but there's nothing beautiful about losing so many young lives.

For my generation it was Vietnam but for my parent's it was World War II and Korea. And for my children it was the Gulf War, Iraq and now Afghanistan. Sadly, there seems no shortage of conflicts where the brave men and women who serve our country must risk their lives to protect our freedom. And yet they go. 

Whatever and wherever the conflict, the message to our fallen heroes is still the same: We will honor and remember your sacrifice with gratitude and respect.

Memorial Day 2012

Song and Dance Fan

I'm a sucker for a good musical. Give me a story where people break into a song to make it more interesting and I'm a fan...even better when it's got great choreography. That's why shows like The Voice, Glee and Smash are don't-miss TV in my book. Yes, I know...at first glance The Voice doesn't seem to fit  with the other two. There's not much choreography and it's a singing contest where the other two are scripted shows. But there's a story in there even if it's just what the singers have been through to get there and whether or not they will move on to the next round. And Smash...it's my new favorite show behind Person of Interest. If you haven't watched, summer reruns would be a great time to start...but I digress.

And I suppose that love for a good song and dance is what compelled me to click on a link to a YouTube video when I saw it on a friend's page on Facebook. I don't do that often but show me a video of a good flash mob that involves music and dancing and I'll click every time. Turns out this one wasn't a flash mob per se but you couldn't tell that from the preview. In fact, you couldn't tell much of anything from the preview. It is, however, charming and romantic and sweet...and probably a whole lot of other things too. I can't imagine the time and effort that went into this but the end result left me with a smile on my face and a tear in my eye.

So if you're not on Facebook and haven't seen it (although I hear CBS was promoting it as a story on their Evening News), it's worth the time. A real feel-good moment that proves love is alive and well. Enjoy!

 

P.S. Did you catch the fact that the people on the screens of the laptops are friends/family participating via Skype? Too cute. I'm telling Kayla she can only say "yes" to a guy who tops this proposal...in ten years or so, of course.

It's A Pepper-Palooza

Peter Piper better plan a path to Pace because he's going to have a passel of peppers to pick. We're having a pepper-palooza.

We didn't set out with that in mind but it seems to have become that.

First, we had one pepper plant Dr. Dale had given us that was still growing from last year. He starts a number of varieties from seed and always fixes us up with a couple. He couldn't get the Wild Dynamo seeds he'd raised before but it was something close to it. Ours was a real slow starter and we hardly got any peppers from it but it was looking pretty good by the time cold weather rolled around so since it was in a pot anyway, I just moved it to a protected location on the nights the temperatures dipped too low. When spring arrived, I cut it back and put it in the ground. Now it's covered with blooms and little green peppers.

Then we enjoyed our jalapenos so much last year so we bought another plant. It's still a dwarf compared to the Wild Dynamo look-alike but it does have three or four little peppers already setting on. They're only about an inch long at this point but I see poppers in our future.

And, on a lark, we picked up a bell pepper plant when we bought the jalapeno. I'll admit I was attracted by the pretty picture of the red bell pepper stuck in it as I like them much better than the green ones. We'll see if it's a matter of simply leaving them on the plant to ripen produces something as eye-appealing as the graphic that came with it. It should be fun to watch anyway. When I looked this evening, I could just see the beginnings of peppers on two blooms.

Dr. Dale broadened his pepper horizons this year and bestowed upon us a poblano pepper plant as well a cowhorn pepperplant. I'm excited about the first but I have the feeling that last one is going to be hotter than I like. Last year he told me I'd like the lemon peppers from the plant he gave me because they had a slight lemon flavor. Their yellow color was pretty as it grew but I never got the lemon taste; it was TOO HOT! And if the cowhorns are too, well no matter...we'll save them for the Doc. They'll be fun to watch grow. They're just starting to bloom.

Peppers here and peppers there. The flowers in the garden need a little excitement in their midst.

Thanks A Lot, Dad

My dad is an amazing guy. Never mind that he's on the downhill side of 88, he's far too busy to be old. There's his cronies to meet for breakfast most weekday mornings and separate circles of friends to hang out with at two different bowling alleys, not to mention his weekly league obligations where he wrapped up the winter league with an average just shy of 200. He takes his recently-widowed sister-in-law out every week or so, "to keep her from getting lonely," he says and he loves to go target practicing out in the desert outside El Paso. Oh, he has his recliner time too, cheering his hapless Cubs in what is sure to be another heart-breaker of a season but he loves them nevertheless. In short, he's active and engaged in life and I couldn't be happier for him. I often say I hope I inherited those genes.

My doctor, however, has reminded me of some other genes I clearly have inherited from him...those that keep my cholesterol readings in a range higher than I, and my doctor, would like. As the guy in the white coat observed, my diet and exercise efforts are all well and good but the bottom line is that my numbers are barely making the grade. Medication is inevitable, he says; might as well start it sooner rather than later.

So I'll join my older brother who's been chugging down the cholesterol-lowering pills for several years now and take some myself. It could be worse; my daily routine up to this point has only involved vitamins, calcium supplements and a baby aspirin so a tiny pill here and there isn't any big deal. Some people need those weekly cases to help keep track of all the medicine they have to take.

I called Dad this evening to "thank" him for the "gift" he bestowed upon me. He chuckled and then rattled off a few more maladies from which he suffers. Did I want them too, he asked. No thanks, Dad; this one's enough. And I'm holding him to those long-and-active-life genes being mine too. Gotta be some trade-off, don't you think?

Climbing Out Of The Rut

We've been in a food rut lately. You know, where it seems like it's the same thing for dinner all the time. Well, not literally all the time...just every other week or so. In cold weather it's easy to add a little variety by throwing a pot of soup into the mix and there are so many kinds we like that the menu feels different from week to week. And we're just about to get to prime fresh vegetable time and that will help too. Maybe it's boredom with the offerings right now but we needed a change.

So we brainstormed a little on the way to the store Saturday, coming up with a few things we like but hadn't fixed in a while and I must say, dinner has been much better as a result. There was pork tenderloin on Saturday with an Asian BBQ sauce. Yum. And last night we did Orange Beef in the wok. It's been months since we made that...maybe so long that we forgot how many chile peppers to put in it. It was HOT but it sure was good.

Tonight's choice was Spinach Lasagna. We try to do one vegetarian meal a week and it just turned out to be a Meatless Monday. True story: As I was putting it together, I was thinking about how much I was going to like all that spinach and ricotta cheese but how our oldest son would hate it. Then he called about the time it was ready to come out of the oven and declared those ingredients gross. It wasn't, however; it was quite tasty. Note to self: Use a deeper pan next time.

And speaking of that pan, I know you're coveting the avocado/orange/harvest gold color scheme of my 70's era dish. I think all the rest of the set went to that same spinach and ricotta-hating son but I held onto this piece because it's such a good size...probably 7.5x12. It's also proof that if you hold onto things long enough, they'll be popular again as these retro colors are making a comeback. But not in my house, except for this dish.

On tap for tomorrow...creamed peas and new potatoes. My mouth is watering at the thought of them. I'm liking being out of the rut.

A New Meaning To "Dropped Calls"

We have plenty of friends and family members for whom life revolves around their cellphone. They've heard the phone company's "reach out and touch" message loud and clear as it seems they're making calls, checking for texts and updating their social media status with great regularity. I know it isn't the case but it almost seems like the cellphone is an extension of their hand.

That would not be Wayne. In fact, I often tell people that if they really want to talk to him, don't bother to call his cellphone; it's rarely on.

So when the home phone rang this morning and I heard him respond with a Hi, bud, I figured it was one of his caching cronies looking for a little help. His conversation, however, was short...a few oh, yeah's and a not too much. Not at all like most caching conversations, in part because if he knows them well enough for them to call him, he usually has to give them a little harassment before he offers the help they're seeking. That's OK; they do the same thing to him.

When he finished, he turned to me with a sheepish look on his face. It wasn't a caching call at all but one from J.J., the manager up at the golf course, who was calling to let Wayne know they had his cellphone. That was a surprise as Wayne didn't know it was missing. Even worse, he hadn't been at the golf course since Friday so the cellphone had been AWOL for two days. Who knows how long it might have been before he went to look for it. He was forced to admit to J.J. that he doesn't use it very often.

There's another funny twist to the story. Wayne's purpose at being at the golf course on Friday was baseball, not golf. He and several others were huddled around a laptop computer in J.J.'s office watching the feed from the State high school baseball championships. Pace was in the finals and the guys, who've attended most of the local games, were cheering them on via long distance. Unfortunately, Pace came up one run short of the title but still had an amazing season.

Wayne's phone had slipped out of his pocket as he watched the game and ended up on the floor. It's a little dark-colored flip-phone...nothing fancy. But J.J. is color blind. I mean, seriously color-blind. And apparently the phone and the carpet were hues he has trouble distinguishing so even though the phone is right there in plain sight, he couldn't see it. Fast forward to today...when the battery got low, someone started looking for the source of the strange beeping noise and found the phone.

It kinda gives a new meaning to the term "dropped calls," doesn't it.

Tales From The Tree

I'm still trying to squeeze in some time for family history research in between all the other things I need to be doing. Well...lately, it would be more like I'm trying to squeeze some of the other things I need to be doing in between the family history research but that's because I've hit a bonanza of information.

When you find one ancestor who came to New England in the 1630s, the chances are very good you're going to find a whole lot more because they had to marry into another family. I think I'm on the fourth or fifth. And because our country was so new at that time, these ancestors are the founding fathers of several small towns in Massachusetts. That means somewhere along the line someone wrote a book detailing the history of that community, giving me a picture of their life names and dates just can't provide...and you know how I love that.

Among the many stories I've uncovered these last few days is the one involving the family of John Rogers, my eighth great grandfather, who along with his father helped found Billerica, Massachusetts. [For those for whom a scorecard is meaningful, the relationship goes like this: Zora Steele > Adda Riggs (m. William Newton Steele) > Sara Agnes Hubbard (m. Marion Riggs) > Willard Hubbard (m. Nancy Ann Burns) > Sara Agnes Marshall (m. Daniel Hubbard) > Abel Marshall (m. Lydia Dryden) > William Marshall (m. Elizabeth Richardson) > Eunice Rogers (m. John Marshall Jr.) > John Rogers (m. Mary Shed)]

Billerica had a somewhat checkered relationship with the Indians in the late 1600s, being somewhat on the edge of the Massachusetts frontier. They had long periods when each looked out for the other interrupted by some attacks leading to burned homes/wigwams and murders on both sides. Two entire families were killed in August 1692, including Zachary Shed, his wife and five children. He was the brother to Mary Shed, wife of John Rogers. Mary had died in 1688 and John remarried, needing a mother for his five children still at home. One of those children was Eunice, my seventh great grandmother.

There's something in the phrasing and descriptive word choices I love for the story of August 5, 1695, as told in The History of Billerica, even if the event itself is tragic so I'm just going to quote part of it:

The Indians came suddenly upon them in the day time. They entered the house of John Rogers, son of one of the early settlers, about noon, and while from the fatigues of the day he was enjoying repose upon his bed, they discharged one of their arrows, which entered his neck and pierced the jugular vein. Awakened with this sudden and unexpected attack, he started up, seized the arrow, which he forcibly withdrew, and expired with the instrument of death in his hand. A woman being in the chamber threw herself out of the window and, though severely wounded, effected her escape by concealing herself among some flags. A young woman was scalped and left for dead, but survived the painful operation and lived for many years afterwards. A son and a daughter of Mr. Rogers were taken prisoners.

I'm still amazed to have this much detail about an ancestor who died more than 300 years ago. While I might have expected a "killed by Indians" footnote, I never expected a play-by-play of the circumstances surrounding that death. The book goes on to describe the effort to catch the Indians which failed, in part, because the Indians tied the mouths of their dogs "with wampum" so they couldn't bark and give away the direction they'd taken. In all, fifteen people were killed or kidnapped in the attack, including John's brother Thomas and his oldest son. I do, however, wonder if Eunice was the woman in the chamber who threw herself out the window...or maybe the young woman who was scalped. Perhaps I'll find the answer to that yet.

The volume of information I've uncovered is a little overwhelming in some respects but I'm thrilled with all the new branches now hanging from my tree.

Texting With The Teen

Kayla:     Hey, Grandma, I've been thinking... I think your car is way beneath you and I should take that piece of junk off your hands. : )

Me:        Oh, you are your father's daughter...always an angle. Grandpa says you can have his pickup in another 20 years.

Kayla:    Well, it'll probably be twenty years before I can afford my own car so I may take him up on that!

Observations

Just a few thoughts from the last several days:

1. One should not choose the day before a yoga class to challenge oneself with a new elevation on the treadmill, producing a strenuous workout clearly felt in the legs and buttocks. Murphy's Law says the yoga instructor will chose the class immediately following said workout to focus on those same legs and buttocks. It took three days to be able to move without my gluteus maximus screaming in protest.

2. One thing that helped work out some of that soreness was my daily walk. More of those walks are taking place after dinner when it's cooler. There's a whole different feel to the neighborhood in the early evening and I'm enjoying that...and seeing the sky change colors as night begins to settle in.

3. When I headed out to walk this evening, there was a bunny in my neighbor's yard to the west and another one in the yard on the other side of our house. Hmmm, I wonder how long it will be before we see little bunnies. And on my walk last night, I saw one of the foxes. Good thing the foxes "live" on the other side of the neighborhood or those cute little bunnies might be Mrs. Fox's future dinner.

4. And while we're talking animals, we caught sight of some deer in the backyard as we returned home the other night. They froze momentarily in the headlights then meandered on off. We haven't seen them in a while so it's nice to know they haven't gone too far a way.

5. Heavy rains and strong winds don't make nice playmates for six-foot-tall flowers. I woke up to find many of the Cosmos plants more horizontal and vertical and had to scramble around for some stakes to restore them to their upright position.

6. And that lecture I gave those Cosmos some weeks back where I threatened to yank them from the ground if they didn't bloom...I think the hydrangea must have overheard it as it's covered with blooms like this:

Well, actually some of them are pinker than this pretty flower. This is a plant that blooms about once every five or six years and then usually with only one or two flowers. It has a lot this time. I'm wondering if the absence of sprayed chemicals (since we're doing the fertilizer/pest control in the lawn ourselves now) has something to do with it. Whatever it is, I'm enjoying them.

7. The Voice was perfect entertainment for ironing. Who knows when the weekly ironing will get done now that it's over.

Spike It Up

As we were sitting at the Crawfish Festival a few days back, I was watching one couple in particular as they made their way around the dance floor. Well, really I was watching the guy. He was about our age and a good enough dancer but that wasn't what caught my eye...it was his hair. It was mostly gray and spiked up on top as it came out of the navy blue visor he had on. My thought process was that it was a rather hip hair-do for an old guy a mature fellow but we have a friend who wears his hair in that style so I didn't dwell on it. Actually, I think this friend spikes his up in an effort to conceal that there's less hair than there used to be but that's neither here nor there.

A few songs later I saw another guy dance by with similarly spiked hair on top. Hmmm, I thought, perhaps that's the "in" style in Cajun country. Then as he swung his partner around, I noticed a long braid trailing out of the back of his visor. I was puzzled. What kind of haircut did he have that gave him short spiked hair on top, a long braid and was closely cropped at the neck?

I was still trying to visualize what he must look like with his hat off and/or his braid unbraided when a guy in the aisle tossed something fuzzy at his buddy a few chairs over from us. That's one of those hair hats, Wayne said. They're selling them at one of the booths over there. Some of them even have a braid. And just like that, the picture was perfectly clear.

As the guy nearby pulled his newly-acquired hat onto his bald head, everyone in the area broke into a grin. Oh, you HAVE to have one of those, I told Wayne. They are just too much fun. He resisted...but only for a minute. Next thing I knew he was off to the vendors area and soon returned with his own hair hat.

It looks good on him, don't you think? While the "hair" looks pretty white in this photo because it was in the sunshine, it's actually a shade of gray pretty close to Wayne's natural hair color. When you get close, you can tell it looks a lot like a stuffed animal but with a quick glance, it passes for hair. I told him if he likes the look, I have some styling gel and we can duplicate this look with his real locks. So far he hasn't taken me up on that offer but I'm still holding out hope.

Just seeing him with this hair hat on makes me laugh...and it makes him laugh too. He's planning to wear it to play golf with the Cokettes. They all kid and cut up so I'm sure they will get a kick out of the hat. And I can think of a few of those guys I'd love to see trying it on, something I feel sure will happen.

So why have I waited this long to write about the hair hat? Because Wayne didn't buy just one; he bought a second one to send to his buddy, Dr. Dale who's off in Ohio already. And we wanted to wait until it arrived so the hat would be a surprise. The package arrived today and Dale sent this photo:

You should know that Dr. Dale is tress-challenged so to see him with this shock of black and gray hair on top is definitely amusing. We knew it would be a great gift...after all, hair is something he has always wanted! There's a reason he and Wayne are such good friends...Dale can't wait to wear it out with his Ohio friends and get a laugh out of them.

It doesn't take much to entertain the bunch of us.

Such Clever People

Mother's Day greetings are popping up everywhere right now. One of my favorites is by a local grocery store with just a nice love-your-momma message that you can't recognize as a commercial until the name of the store shows up on the television screen at the very end. Far more subtle (and therefore more appealing too, in my opinion) than the inserts in the paper urging readers not to forget Mom on Mother's Day when what they really mean is come in and buy kitchen appliances or jewelry.

So it really shouldn't have come as a surprise when I went to Google something late this evening and the newest Google Doodle is honoring Moms around the world. It's cute. If you haven't seen it, you'll find it here.

Those Google people are clever, aren't they. They're amazing to begin with, what with putting the answer to my every question right at my fingertips in a fraction of a second. I still haven't figured out how they do that but I'm happy to take advantage of it. And it seems I do, often multiple times a day. The clever illustrations add a bit of fun and I regularly scroll over them to find out what occasion is being celebrated in the design. And then sometimes...like Mother's Day...it's pretty obvious.

Ever wonder how those doodles came about? You can find the story of them here. Scroll down to the bottom and you'll find a link to all their past doodles. If nothing more, they're interesting because some are run in other parts of the world and not the USA. And if you're a fan of the animated doodles, Technorati rated the eleven best for 2011 in this article with links to each one. Go ahead...play with them. You know you want to.

I'm not nearly as clever as the Google people but I do want to offer up Mother's Day greetings to all the Moms out there. Enjoy your day!

Threats Work

Remember when I had a heart-to-heart talk with the tall and lacy plants in my flower bed in this post? Well, it wasn't quite as friendly as a heart-to-heart talk; it was more a do-it-or-else warning. As in bloom or I'll yank you out of the ground.

And it worked!

They're pretty, too...deep red, almost burgundy with a bright yellow center. The plants themselves are thin and tall so the flowers bob around in the breezes we've been having. There are blooms or buds on four or five of the plants, including the really tall one which must exceed six feet now. I'll never see the flowers at the top of that one...except from the underside! I'd rather it wasn't quite so tall but it's so lacy that you can see right through it.

Now that we have blooms, I can figure out what they are...cosmos. And since they survived last winter, I guess that means they'll be in my garden for a while. That's OK; now that my threats have worked, they can stay.

More Louisiana

Just a few more memories of our time in Louisiana to document...because I'll forget them if I don't. : )

Since the Festival didn't open until late afternoon, we spent part of Friday enjoying the sights and tastes of Avery Island. For such a small island, it has a big personality. For instance, it's home to the Tabasco Company and its acres of pepper plants...but more about that later. There's also a salt mine because the island sits at the top of a huge salt dome estimated to be higher than Mt. Everest. And then there's the Jungle Garden which really isn't much jungle at all but stately oaks draped with Spanish moss.

There are plenty of bayous and lagoons too which are home to some of these fellows:

They kept an eye on us and we kept an eye on them. We probably saw 8-10 alligators without really trying, the majority of which were all in one lagoon. Most were 5'-6' long and happy to be in the water on a hot afternoon. Thank goodness for good telephoto lenses.

The gardens are full of azaleas, camellias, and other plants found in traditional Southern landscapes so this pagoda and buddha seem a little out of place but they are picturesque. It all sits at the edge of a small lagoon which also had an alligator lurking in the algae-covered water.

There's just something peaceful about all those big old trees though. We set up the chairs we'd brought with us and had lunch under their spreading branches.

One of the most interesting parts of the garden is an area called Bird City. It's another algae-covered lagoon on which they've built platforms for the egrets to nest. Well, it's egrets on the platforms and in the surrounding trees as well but there are other species of birds that nest in the area, including the Roseate Spoonbill. We saw some of them as well but never close enough to get a good photo even with the telephoto lens.

There's a nice observation deck that's elevated so you have a good view of the lagoon and visitors don't seem to bother the birds one bit. It was a noisy...and smelly...place but interesting nonetheless.

There were still chicks in the nest but we were guessing it won't be long before the birds all begin their migration north only to return again for nesting season next year.

The fields of pepper plants are off limits but you can tour the factory which we did...and we learned a lot in the process. Like that this plant produces all the Tabasco sauce that's distributed world-wide. That takes a whole lot of peppers, all of which are grown from seed every year and picked by hand. Then they're ground up, seasoned with salt mined right there on the island and put in used Jack Daniels barrels to age for three years before they become Tabasco sauce.

After the factory tour we headed over to the Tabasco store to look around and try a few of the samples. Hands down the best one was ice cream made with the Raspberry Chipotle Tabasco sauce. It was cold and sweet with a subtle heat...yum!

Despite the fact that it is home to all that industry and has plenty of visitors, the island has its own sense of serenity. And that was just what we needed before heading off to mingle with the masses.

The Test

Q. If Susy falls asleep on the couch three times between 8:30pm and midnight, it is because:
       (a) Susy stayed up too late too many nights in a row.
       (b) Susy got up earlier than usual too many mornings in a row.
       (c) Susy spent more days in the heat and sunshine than usual and it's finally caught up with her.
       (d) All of the above.

A. The reason doesn't matter; the correct answer is that Susy should just go to bed.

Fais Do-do

That's pronounced Fay' dough-dough if, like me, Cajun-speak is truly foreign to you. There's the strict definition: fais means dance and do-do means to make sleep; then there's the Cajun definition: the liveliest of occasions with food, Cajun music and plenty of dancing. That's just what we enjoyed this weekend...and a little lagniappe (pronounced lan-yap) or something extra to boot.

If there's such a thing as professional partiers, the Cajun people fit the description as they certainly know how to have a good time but you couldn't ask for a friendlier and more welcoming group that we encountered this weekend. The event was well-organized and everywhere we went, someone was asking us where we were from or wishing us a good time, all with an accent that by itself made me smile. Believe me, those wishes came true.

From Friday through Sunday we spent many an hour on the festival grounds. We caught throws (i.e., beads and candy) at the Mardi Gras-like parade, strolled through the craft booths, watched the Cajun and Zydeco dance lessons and cheered on the dance contestants. The only area we didn't explore was the midway but we weren't there for the carnival. And, of course, we dined on these creatures of the swamp:

Well, the one's I ate didn't exactly look like that; in my opinion, peeling them is entirely too much work for the meat you get and I'm certainly NOT going to be sucking any heads like the natives do. But the meat itself is good...a little like lobster only not quite as rich. I had some in etoufee (pronounced ay-too-fay, a tomato/vegetable/crawfish stew served over rice), some fried and some mixed with a creamy spinach concoction served in a bread bowl. The spinach dish was my healthy choice to offset the one that was fried. And I strayed off the crawfish path for a little red beans and rice too. Wayne put away some gumbo, fried alligator and Cajun sausage as well as some etoufee. It was all delicious...and full of Cajun spice too.

Crawfish are a big deal in Louisiana. They're abundant in the local swamps and were a favorite food of the Native Americans and early settlers in the area. They're still harvested from the natural wetlands there, mostly from the Atchafalaya Basin and Breaux Bridge is right in the heart of it. If you've ever driven Interstate 10 and remember the really long bridge over the swamp, that's that Atchafalaya. Now, though, there are 111,000 acres of freshwater crawfish farms and the area produces 75 million to 105 million pounds of the little crustaceans annually. That's more than 90% of the domestic supply of what some refer to as "mud bugs." And with spring being the peak of the season, it's a fine excuse for a party...as if Cajuns needed a reason to eat, dance and have a good time.

While the food was terrific, the music was even better. Let me just say I wouldn't have been able to name a single Cajun or Zydeco song before we arrived and it's questionable whether I could even now but I loved every minute of all that we heard. You'd think that after three days it would get old but it didn't.

There were two stages, each with its own dance floor, and they were busy even when the temperature hovered around 90 degrees in the middle of the afternoon. Those bright colors in the foreground are umbrellas the spectators put up for shade because there was precious little otherwise until the sun began to slip behind the trees about 6pm. We'd listen and watch for a while then disappear to find somewhere that did have shade. That's how I now know how to tell when the dancers are doing Cajun or Zydeco dance moves...I watched the dance lessons from a grassy spot under a big old oak. We left our chairs right where they were next to the dance floor (like everyone else did) and they were right there when we came back. No matter where you went on the festival grounds you could still hear the music.

Just like the dances, there's a difference between Cajun music and Zydeco music too. Cajun music has its roots in the French-speaking Catholics who relocated to Louisiana from Acadiana in Canada. It was originally based on the fiddle but the accordion played a bigger and bigger role as it evolved. Zydeco is the music of the Creoles, the French-speaking people of color in Louisiana. It started out as Cajun but after WWII it was influenced more by blues and rock and roll so it has a driving rhythm. The accordion is still there but the most distinctive musical instruction of Zydeco is the corrugated metal rubboard called a frottier.

Even within these two genres are more variations. Country, soul, 50's rock and even heavy metal influences were all heard over the course of the weekend. You've never really heard Chubby Checkers' The Twist until you've heard it by a Zydeco band. And the headliner band Saturday night (ten members or so, including a trumpet, saxaphone and keyboard) went from Mustang Sally to Glenn Miller's In The Mood to some Cajun waltz with lyrics in French. There was far too much variety to be bored and if you didn't like the group playing at one stage, you could hear something different at the other.

The musicians all had a workout, playing two-hour sets without a break and often a new song would start directly from the end of the one they were finishing. The guy on the rubboard, however, danced the whole time in addition to playing so he had to be spent when it was time for a new band to take the stage. And while these bands were unknown to me, they were a huge draw for most of those attending the festival. One band had won a Grammy and had three other Grammy nominations, including one this year. Our vote for the best musician at the festival, however, went to Jason Bergeron. He was the accordion player in the High Performance clip I posted Friday. He was absolutely amazing, especially for such a young guy.

And I think that's where the lagniappe comes in. We expected good music and good food...and maybe even to learn something about the Cajun culture. I'm not sure we expected to come away with an appreciation for the effort of the younger generation to preserve and carry it on. There were a lot of young people involved...young people performing traditional songs and writing new ones, many of which are sung in French. And young people on the dance floor, doing traditional Cajun and Zydeco dances and singing along with those French lyrics. I may not be Cajun but I am an appreciator of history and ancestors and honoring your past so seeing that hit home with me and with Wayne too.

This whole trip came about as a fluke when Wayne and I both happened to watch the King Crawfish documentary independent of one another and came away wanting to attend the festival. If you get the Documentary Channel, you can watch it too. Maybe then you'll want to join us at next year's Crawfish Festival because I have a feeling we'll be going back.

Weekend Get-Away

We've packed our bags and escaped for a few days to enjoy a little of this:

 

and some of this:

 

while we soak up a little Cajun culture at this. Spice food and toe-tapping music...sounds like an awesome get-away.

It's All Relative

It was a small class at yoga this morning...only three of us plus the instructor. Perhaps the rain gave the rest an excuse to sleep in. Whatever the reason, it was nice to have plenty of room and not have to worry around where the person next to you was when you started swinging your arms and legs.

The down side, however (and there always is one, isn't there?), was that the other two students are younger and have been doing yoga much longer than I have. Translate that as they are stronger and more flexible. I know it's not a competition but I was feeling a little inadequate. While I struggled to maintain my balance, they seemed to move effortlessly from Warrior III to what the instructor called a kite pose (swing one arm down and the other up, rotating the chest out and still remaining on the one leg) and finally to a Standing Split and back to Warrior III. No one in our class looks as good as the professional in the last link, believe me. Where was the gal with whom I usually exchange eye rolls at moves like this because she has a harder time with them than I do? But I kept on plugging away, challenging myself even if it wasn't at the same level as my classmates.

Afterwards, I headed for the treadmill, figuring I might as well rack up my miles with one trip to the gym rather than come back later if it was going to continue to rain. Mornings in the gym have an entirely different vibe than late afternoons; lots more seniors than the young college and military guys I see when I go at 3pm or 4pm. It doesn't matter either way...I plug in my iPod and tune them all out.

I was about 1.75 miles in when a guy about my age climbed on the treadmill next to me. We exchanged a smile and a nod but both of us stuck to our own routine. His pace was slower and he only stayed on the machine for maybe 15-20 minutes then he was gone.

When I came off the machine, he was in the back of the room again, this time on a stationary bike. How far did you go? he inquired, and I told him four miles. And you raise the elevation too? he asked. Just to 2, I replied, and in increments. He shook his head as if amazed by this information. I'm impressed, he said.

I couldn't help but think back to my feelings of inadequacy in the class earlier. Who knew I was going to be looked at with envy just a short time later. It was a good reminder that we all have our levels of fitness we're striving to achieve. The important thing is that we're out there trying.

But I Don't Have To Like It

When we designed this house, we purposely filled the back side with lots of windows. There are bay windows in the breakfast room, a triple window in the family room and three sets of sliding glass doors...two with three doors and one with four. I wanted it to feel like we were part of the outdoors and I think we succeeded.

Starting now, however, some of those views look like this:

The temperature topped 90 degrees yesterday so I was keenly aware of how frequently the air conditioner cycled on an off. And when that happens, it's time to sacrifice some of those prized outdoor views for a lower energy bill.

The window coverings on the east side of the house are closed now and they won't reopen until cool weather returns in the fall. That's no great loss; those windows all face the house that's in foreclosure. At least the bank is sending someone by to mow it regularly so the view's improving but it's not something I'll miss seeing.

The west side is a compromise. I close them all at lunch time and reopen them when the sun sets so I can see out when I get up in the morning. We'll call it a mental health thing...I need my daylight. And that's exactly why the drapes are never drawn over the two sliding glass doors in the living area. At least there's a large overhang on the back porch so they're protected from direct sunlight.

It hardly seems fair when you think about it, does it. When the yard is drab and the skies are more likely dull and gray, I'm free to see outside all day every day. And now that things are green and blooming and the skies are a brilliant blue, I'm forced to close it all off. But blocking the sun's rays makes a big difference in the temperature inside the house and while my aesthetic side would rather have the view, my practical side would prefer to have the money in my pocket. So the blinds are closed...but I don't have to like it.

The Latest Installment

If the question is Am I smarter than a squirrel?, the answer is Not yet. But I'm working on it.

Bonnie's live trap has been living in one of our flower beds for two weeks now and has yet to capture one of those furry pests who seem intent on wreaking havoc in my yard. During the first week nary a squirrel was seen but that didn't last. One morning I looked out and there were three of them scampering around the yard, digging little holes and totally ignoring the delicious aroma of chunky peanut butter that baited the trap.

You need some bird feedin it was the advice. So I bought bird feed, cleaned out the lid that holds the bait and refilled it with more peanut butter with bird feed on top. Back into the flower bed near where I always see the squirrels it went. The result? Nada. I can see the trap from inside the house and the unsprung door taunted me every morning.

Then as we were mowing yesterday I realized that the lid holding the bait was empty. Not just empty, it was clean as a whistle...and clear up against the edge of the trap rather than in the middle where I had placed it. Those pesky little rodents had reached through the side and pulled it over to where they could reach the food without entering the trap. I'll give them this...they're clever.

But I'm clever-er...at least I hope so. The lid now has two holes in it and a wire running through those holes to fasten it to the center of the trap. They can't move it and they can't get to it without entering the trap. Let's see what those fuzzy-tailed nuisances do about that!

Bring on the Yaks

That shiny new coffee maker my brother Jerry delivered to my door seems to have found a home on my kitchen cabinet despite the fact that there are no coffee drinkers in the house once company goes home. The old Mr. Coffee was quickly banished to the back reaches of a lower cabinet only to see the light of day again when the next round of company arrived. The new Keurig, however, seems to be right at home there in the open.

And that's because I've continued to enjoy a cup of hot tea here and there. The Timothy's Orange Indulgence White Tea was particularly tasty but I've pretty much liked everything I've tried so far from the variety pack Jerry provided with the Keurig. But I'm about to run out so I thought I'd check out the selection at Walmart when we made our grocery run this morning. I knew right where it was as I have to maneuver around the big display of k-cups every week; it's right in the middle of the aisle.

Reading the descriptions on the boxes, the Tazo Zen tea sounded interesting:

A foundation of green tea supports the cleansing notes of refreshing spearmint and aromatic lemongrass in this bright and clean elixir. This blend is, in a single word, invigorating.

Lemon, mint, healthy green tea...works for me. I kept reading.

It is little wonder then that Tazo Zen is so frequently enjoyed before sessions of yoga, Pilates, or yak herding.

Yak herding? The yoga and Pilates I've got covered but if you've got any yaks that need herding, I'll be qualified...after I've had my cup of tea, of course.

Shaking the Tree

I'm related to Calvin Coolidge. Yes, that Calvin Coolidge. And to Elias Howe. We'll see how well you remember your American History...what did he invent? And to Laura Ingalls Wilder and the author who created Tarzan as well. All of us, along with probably 4 million other people, can trace our family trees back to Edmund Rice, a Puritan who came to America in 1638.

Old Edmund has been hanging around on my tree for years without me knowing that he was kind of famous. Not quite Mayflower famous but being part of the Massachusetts Bay Colony and the founding father of two new cities in that state does entitle him to a little notoriety. That and the fact that he had a ton of children who each had their own ton of children who each...well, you get the idea. I think Edmund and his progeny single-handedly populated the state of Massachusetts. There's even an entire association devoted to preserving his story and documenting his many descendants. That is a very good thing because not only does it contain all the birth/marriage/children/death information family history buffs like me are looking for (footnoted to records, no less) but there are also stories. And you know me, I'm all about the stories.

Like the one about Mary Rice, my fifth great-grandmother and Edmund's great-great granddaughter. Mary may have been a Puritan but she wasn't exactly pure. She and her lover were convicted of adultery and each received 25 lashes; and then her husband divorced her. I'm thinking divorces were probably pretty rare in 1787 but at least she went on to marry her lover. Makes you think of The Scarlet Letter, doesn't it.

There's another story too although it won't be found on the pages of the Edmund Rice (1638) Association. It's that my father and my mother were related before they were related.

Let me explain.

Edmund had twelve children, among whom were three boys: Thomas, Edward and Samuel. The son of Thomas married the daughter of Edward. Yes, I know...they're first cousins, but it is Colonial America after all and the whole family had gone off and established a new town so there probably weren't a lot of choices. In the late 1600's it wasn't that uncommon for cousins to marry. That line descends down (through Mary the harlot) to my mother. Samuel had a daughter, and if you follow her line down it leads to my dad.

Weird, huh? I was really surprised when I found it and I can guarantee you neither side of the family knew it. But not only can I document the connection through the Rice family association but also through two separate books written by different people about the families these Rice women married into. I can't begin to calculate the distant relationship my parents would have had...probably something akin to sixth cousins twenty times removed or something equally bizarre.

Kinda like me and Calvin Coolidge.

For Your Listening Pleasure

All the years I was growing up, my mother played in a small dance band. That's her seated at the piano with the Rhythmaires, the band she played with for most of that time. Almost every Saturday night they would head off to a nearby Moose Lodge or Elks Club for an evening of the latest dance tunes and old standards for those who liked to foxtrot or jitterbug. Meanwhile, my little brother and I were being spoiled enjoying a sleepover at Grandma's house.

Music was a big part of life at our house. Piano students arrived after school a couple of days a week to learn all about flats and sharps, and Mother could often be found at the piano tinkering around with some new song she'd heard on the radio. She didn't need the music; she could pick up the tune by ear. It was only after she was gone that we found a dozen or so original songs that she had written.

The Rhythmaires would show up to practice in our living room sometimes too. Now we didn't have a big house or any big rooms for that matter but still it was a fun experience when they all crowded into the living room and filled the whole house with their sounds. Not everyone gets to drift off to sleep to live music from the 40's and 50's but I did. 

Mother could play anything from church hymns to boogie woogie but I don't remember every hearing her sing. Oh, she might have joined in the chorus of Happy Birthday or some Christmas carols but was an accompanist, not a vocalist. That was why it was a surprise when, upon cleaning out the house after her death, we found a whole bunch of records that included her singing.

Yes, records...vinyl records just like the ones you'd buy in the store. They had rented or maybe borrowed a machine to cut your own records and there must be two dozen or more of them. I think the band might have been the motivation behind cutting the records but most of the ones we found in Mother's house are various family members singing while Mother plays the piano.

They're a challenge to play because they're recorded at all different speeds. The first track might be 78 and the next one 33-1/3 but they're priceless. And for a number of years I've tried to find a way to convert the records to a digital format so they could be saved and shared. I was reluctant to ship them off and couldn't find anyone locally so the records have stayed in a drawer. By pure coincidence, I discovered my older brother Jerry had the means to digitize the song when we were visiting him in Illinois last fall and when he was here earlier this month, he took a few back to experiment with.

They.are.a.hoot! Well, the few that he's converted and sent to me so far are anyway. Two are my step-dad singing with Mother playing the piano and occasionally singing harmony that is...shall we say, not always harmonious. And perhaps they're made even funnier by the fact that Daddy wasn't exactly the life of the party. He was kind of quiet actually, content to sit on the sidelines and let Mother be the entertainer. If I were guessing, I'd say there might have been a little John Barleycorn consumed at the recording sessions. And that's just part of what makes them a treasure.

It's cool to hear Mother tickle the ivories and see in my mind's eye Daddy's wry smile that I'm sure was on his face as he was singing this silly tune more than 60 years ago. Better still, I know there are more. Mother playing some of the original songs she wrote as well as the boogie woogies she was so good at; aunts and uncles singing off-key but clearly enjoying it; grandparents offering up birthday wishes; and even me as a toddler, singing with a little prodding when I forgot the words. Buttons and Bows, anyone? It's a precious gift to be able to hear all those voices saved at a time when there weren't many options for recording. And I couldn't be more grateful to Jerry for putting these into a form to share.

So, without further adieu, I bring you the evening's featured vocalist, Frank a/k/a Jr., with Lorene on the piano. The year is 1949 (although the following photo is later) and the tune is Wahoo. The words are at the end in case you want to sing along.

Wahoo MP3

OH! gimme a horse, a great big horse, and gimme a buckaroo
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
OH! gimme a ranch, a big pair of pants, and gimme a stetson too,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
Give me the wide o-pen spaces...
For I'm just like a prairie flower,
Growing wilder by the hour.
OH! gimme a moon, a prairie moon, and gimme a gal what's true,
And let me Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

OH! I never could sing a high class thing, good music I never knew,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
OH! I never could dance, 'cause when I dance I ruin the lady's shoe,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!
It's just a gift from the prairie...
You shout it when a bad man jigs,
And it's very good for calling pigs.
I never could speak a word of Greek, I never could poop-poop-a-do,
But I can Wah-Hoo! Wah-Hoo! WAH-HOO!

A Level-Headed Beauty

It's prom season, and I was thrilled to receive this photo of Kayla and her boyfriend Stephen as they were ready to head to theirs.

Sigh...she looks so grown up. And pretty too.

So I called to get all the details and she was happy to share them. It was a fun evening, she reported. Dinner out beforehand with a group of friends, lots more photos she'd show me at the next visit, a fun evening...overall a positive prom-night experience.

When I asked her about shopping for her dress, she was even more excited. It was the first one she tried on, she giddily told me. Oh, she didn't buy it at that point...after all, she was on her way to Atlanta with a friend for the sole purpose of dress-shopping. But she was smart enough to ask the store to hold the dress for her as a bit of insurance. She looked and shopped and tried on and shopped some more but nothing she saw measured up to the first dress so back she went to buy it. And as an added bonus, it was on sale. Kayla loves shopping but she loves finding a good bargain even more.

I quizzed her about her pre-prom preparations and she was quick to tell me she did her own hair. She saw no reason to spend money to have her hair professionally styled not knowing if she would like the result. A girl after my own heart. She did splurge on a manicure but otherwise she put herself in charge of her own pre-prom preparations.

Just a few days ago I read that the average cost for prom in 2012 is $1,078 according to Visa...and they should know. That's up from $807 last year, due primarily to the tendency to be more elaborate and more outrageous than prom-goers in previous years. I'm happy to know I have such a practical and level-headed granddaughter who looked just a beautiful as those who spent far more.

Picture Yourself in a National Park

It's National Parks Week...and that means from April 21-29 you can get in to all 397 National Parks for free. There's at least one in every state except Delaware, you know, so it's not like you have to drive halfway across the country to take advantage of this.

But if I were driving across the country, I'd go to Bryce Canyon in Utah. Even though we've been twice already, I'd go again in a heartbeat. There are still trails we haven't explored and the scenery is spectacular and so unique...but then the same can be said of most every National Park. Of all we've visited, I've only been to one I wasn't fond of but I'd even give it another shot. There's still plenty of names on my parks-to-visit list first though.

Yep, I can picture myself in a National Park...where millions of stars light up the dark night, natural wonders await around every curve in the road or trail, and the ghosts of soldiers help keep history alive. What are you waiting for...you've got all week. And if that doesn't work for you, mark your calendars for June 9 (Get Outdoors Day), September 29 (National Public Lands Day) and November 10-12 (Veterans Day) when admission fees are waived again. The parks are a bargain even when you have to pay an entrance fee but they're especially attractive when they're free.

A Blast From The Past

A box arrived on the front step this afternoon. The big brown truck used to make regular stops in front of my house, leaving layouts on their return trip home, the latest scrapbooking products to take for a test spin or the newest CK idea book to get lost in. But that was another life. That's a fact, not a regret; I'm free to create what I want and when I want and I'm perfectly happy with that. Nowadays I just wave at Brown as he rolls right on by.

But not today. As if to some throwback to yesterday the little guy in the brown shorts stopped and ran up to my door with a box. And inside was a blast from the past...this layout from 2003:

It was one of 50 or so made for Hot Looks for Scrapbooks released in early 2004. Originally it was going to be one of several layouts appearing on the cover but as often is the case in publishing, a better idea came along and the cover was redesigned. By then the rest of the content was set and this layout was never published. Somehow it got buried. I knew it wasn't lost...they never lost any of my pages but it took a while for the right person to come across it and say we should send this back to Brenda. 

It was fun to see it again. It's one of the first pages I made with a 12" photo on it, and doing something digitally (adding text directly to the photo) was pretty far out there at the time. But the vellum and metal word embellishment definitely say "2003."  Had this page never been returned, I could have created a new one...the photos were digital, after all. But I like having this one back and seeing how my style has changed or stayed the same.

The big brown truck brought more than a simple cardboard box today. It brought me a smile.

Trip of a Lifetime

On Sunday nights you're likely to find us sitting side by side on the couch watching The Amazing Race. Teams of two people race literally around the world, performing tasks and challenges at each of the scheduled stops, and the last team to arrive at a designated checkpoint is eliminated. Yes...it's reality TV with the requisite amount of bickering and drama that goes with it but we love seeing the different places and learning a little something about the local culture. I think we've watched every season.

This one, however, might be our favorite. Not because of the contestants (the whining and arguing does get old) but because of the location; they've gone to Tanzania.

We were lucky enough to visit Tanzania ourselves in 2003. It was, without a doubt, the most amazing experience. And it's so cool to relive that trip as we watch the contestants do many of the same things we did when we were there. As the participants move from one location to another, we've turned to each other and said We've been there!

We rode in open-top safari vehicles down dusty roads right among the animals. It was nothing to stop and wait for elephants, baboons, or zebras to cross ahead of us. It was a rare privilege to be so close to so many different kinds of animals but zoos will never be the same after seeing them in the wild.

We visited a Maasai village where everyone sang and the men danced for us. Well, their style of dancing is jumping up and down but you'd be amazed at how high they jump and for how long. I didn't realize until we saw them do it on The Amazing Race that it's a courtship dance.

And we rode down into the Ngorongoro Crater, often called "Africa's Eden" and the 8th Natural Wonder of the World. It was beautiful and diverse and filled with more animals than you can imagine. We saw our first lions here and hippos and even rhinos although they were quite some distance away.

The checkpoint for Sunday's show was Lake Manyara. I'm not sure what the contestants will do there other than a mandatory rest break but we'd highly recommend a canoe trip on the serene waters. They're home to thousands of flamingos who will let you get tantalizingly close before they take flight.

And we'd also encourage the winners to spend some of their prize money to return to Tanzania during the migration across the Serengeti. The endless stream of animals moving from one location to another in search of food and water is absolutely awe-inspiring. Literally millions of animals make this trek twice a year and we were lucky enough to witness some of it.

Six teams were still competing in the two episodes based in Tanzania and every one of them described that portion of the race as a trip of a lifetime. I couldn't agree more.

Keeping My Eyes Peeled

I knew the gist of conversation before it ever took place when I saw our next door neighbor standing at the edge of his yard. He was waiting patiently for Wayne to reach him as he and the mower he was on made their way up the side of our yard. The mower fell silent and they fell into their conversation. Even though I was inside, I knew what they were discussing.

There was lots of head shaking then both looked over into Wynn's yard as he pointed in that direction. And it wasn't long before he extended both arms with more head shaking. If there had been any doubt before about the topic, it was gone now.

They didn't talk long and Wayne had reached the driveway when I walked out through the garage. As he shut off the mower, I had only one question: How big and what kind?

I knew Wynn had come out to tell him he'd killed a snake in his yard Sunday morning. No, I don't have ESP but I do have ears and I heard the gunshot...I just didn't know where it was. It sounded to close to be on the golf course where they're known to shoot snakes on the creek just a hole or two away. So when I saw Wynn standing out waiting to talk to Wayne, I knew it was right next door.

The answer to my question? Five feet and a moccasin. And bigger around than my arm. It was just slithering across his yard when he saw it.

You can bet your bottom dollar I'll be keeping my eyes peeled every time I'm outside now.

It's Working...Sorta

Ka-bunk! A-bunk. A-bunkity-bunk. And with that the cozy comfort of my not-quite-awake-yet Saturday morning was gone. I knew what it was...a golf ball hitting the roof. It happens but not often. There's no need to be upset about it; I know it wasn't intentional. Heck, I played golf on Friday with someone who hit a house off the first tee. Maybe it's just karma.

But what I saw when I got out of bed and went to the door made me mad. Very mad. There, coming across the roof of the screened enclosure, was a squirrel. Throwing the door open (and ignoring the fact that I was still in my pajamas), I started clapping my hands and yelling at him. You get out of here! I hollered. There was no way the golfer who hit that errant shot was coming anywhere near our house at that point. Fact is, I probably frightened him more than I did the squirrel as he wasn't exactly beating a hasty retreat. So I clapped and yelled some more until he finally ran off the far side and up a nearby tree.

That would have been bad enough but when I returned to the back windows a few minutes later, he was on the screen again. It was the last straw. Wayne had chased a squirrel off the roof the afternoon before when I heard it gnawing on the cover of the vent pipe, and he'd hardly gotten back inside the house when I heard it again. It had cost us over $200 in repairs the last time the stupid varmints had taken a fancy to the covers on the other side of the house; I had no intention of dealing with that again. One way or another, those squirrels had to go.

So I borrowed my friend Bonnie's trap, sprayed all the moving parts with some WD-40 per Hiram's instructions and set it out in one of the flower beds with some peanut butter as bait. Figuring out which flower bed should house the trap was tough...there were three fuzzy-tailed rodents in the yard Saturday morning, all near different flower beds but I picked the center one. Besides, it was the one closest to the "road" the squirrel seemed to be taking back and forth across my screened enclosure.

And you know what? We haven't seen a single squirrel since. They were seemingly everywhere in the yard last week but the last two days...none. I think there are little squirrel ghosts hanging around the trap warning their destructive little brethren not to come anywhere near it. I guess if the object was to rid the yard of squirrels, it's working. Just not quite the way I expected.

Storm Predictions

Weather wasn't the planned topic for tonight's post but when a quick dash through Facebook at 9:30pm tonight turned up a post warning friends in El Dorado that a large tornado was headed their way put weather at the forefront of my thoughts. There have been numerous news stories the last two days about the strong possibilities for severe weather this weekend so it wasn't a surprise, and when Wayne talked with his dad just an hour or so earlier, they discussed the need to keep up with the tornadoes all around the area. But one on the ground headed toward El Dorado...that will get our attention every day.

It was amazing how much information I could get even though we're a thousand miles away. The Weather Channel had devoted its coverage entirely to the storm just moving into Wichita so we heard almost a play-by-play of its progress. It was on the ground in Haysville where we'd stopped for a cache on our last trip home. It was a virtual cache, meaning there wasn't a log to sign; you took a photo and uploaded it to receive credit for the cache. The photo...metal debris twisted around and embed in a tree overhead, left by a previous twister traveling through the city. Then on to McConnell AFB...towards Benton and Towanda...and eventually to El Dorado. Names and places I know so well.

My search for more information took me to one of the local television stations where I could watch live streaming video from their team of storm chasers. Darkness, of course, made it impossible to see much of anything other than headlights reflecting on wet highways but it was still cool technology.

The storms have passed the areas we call home, moving on to threaten other people and communities. Unfortunately, there are more behind them so no one can let their guard down yet. And since the news outlets aren't mentioning significant damage, I'm hoping it isn't severe.

One thing that has stood out in all of this is how sophisticated storm predicting has become and the vast array of tools at the hands of experts that make it so. Years (and years) ago we stood at the back of our house as a tornado cut across the corner of El Dorado. We knew it was a tornado because we could see it, not because we'd been warned in any way. Now they know a day or more in advance that significant tornado activity is not only likely but probable, and they can tell where in the storm system the tornadoes are likely to be at the moment and where they will be fifteen or thirty minutes later. It's bound to save lives.

To those of you in the storms' paths as they move eastward tomorrow...be safe.

Bloom Or Be Gone

I've had a conversation with the plants in my garden this week. There was plenty of time for it too as the mild temperatures and low humidity were perfect for working in the yard. And believe me, there's a ton of work that needs to be done out there.

Conversing with the flowers isn't part of my usual routine but some of them needed a good talking to. Like the bushy green things in the front of this picture:

I'd tell you what they are but I don't know. When we visited the Texas Hill Country in 2010, we made a stop at Wildseed Farms where I picked up a handful of (what else) flower seeds. It was late July so the packets just hung out on my desk until Spring 2011 when I planted a bunch of them. My usual organizational skills must have been on the blink then because I didn't save the packets. Or maybe I didn't expect them to make it through the winter since I did nothing to protect them and tossed the information. At any rate, these are one of two sets of plants that came from those seeds. The other one is lavender which is in a pot and I did save the package on that one. The identity of this plant, however, is a mystery.

But it's green and growing...vigorously, in fact. That tallest spike is almost waist-high now and shows no signs that it's ready to stop. I keep looking down in the center, hoping for a bud to make an appearance but so far all I'm getting is more leaves.

And that's the basis for our conversation. I gave these plants a pep talk in the hopes that they'd produce some blooms but I followed it up with a threat. Bloom or be gone. I'll give them the rest of the summer and fall to show a color other than green or they're history. One thing is clear: If they ever do bloom, I won't have to bend over to inhale their scent.

I Have A Lot Of Eating To Do

Are you a foodie?That's the question posed in the latest challenge making it's way around Facebook. There's a list of 100 foods and the theory is you check to see how many of the foods on that list you've eaten and then share that number with your friends. Ordinarily I'd just ignore these entries, but when I saw a friend post that she only had a few more and her list would be complete so I was intrigued.

There are common foods...like root beer floats and pastrami on rye, although no indication that you needed to eat them together. But there are some weird foods too...foods I needed to Google to know what they were. Like absinthe (an anise-flavored alcohol) and phall (the hottest form of curry generally available in Indian restaurants). It seems clear I'm not much of a foodie if I don't even know what some of the criteria foods are.

And I'm not likely to become a foodie if the way you earn such a title is to eat all the foods on the list. It's safe to say I won't be eating crickets, haggis (a pudding made with sheep's organs) or even raw oysters. Do you suppose they'd let me eat extras of chicken and waffles and count that for some of these foul-sounding foods?

I could only check 35 of the foods off my list so I apparently have a lot of eating to do if I'm going to become a foodie. You can see what's left on your personal foodie menu at The Food List Challenge. Bon Appetit!

Cheep, Cheep, Cheep

There's a lot of activity in our backyard right now, and I'm not talking about the lawn chores Wayne and I are doing out there. Momma and Daddy Bluebird are working really hard to keep their little family fed.

We've had the bluebird house for probably ten years or more now. My good friend Charlotte's dad built the house...one for me, one for Bonnie and one for Charlotte, and Wayne mounted it on a post that's both sturdy and designed to prevent predators from reaching the nest inside. And almost every spring we get to watch the same ritual of nest building, egg-sitting and then feeding the little baby birds. The adults are a little cautious but it doesn't take them long to figure out we're not a threat so they pretty much ignore us unless we're really, really close to the bird house.

But you don't have to be very close right now to hear the baby birds send up a chorus of cheeps when one of the adults arrive with dinner. I can hear them on the back porch and even inside the house, if the wind is right. I'd guess there might be three or four of them. There is a hinge so we could peek but we never do. I want the little bluebird family to feel as safe as possible

I did, however, slip out with the little camera and take a movie of the activity this morning. Unfortunately, the microphone on the camera isn't very sensitive so you have to listen closely to hear the baby birds but they're a-chirpin'.

 

Now the trick will be to see if we catch sight of them learning to fly.

This Week In Sports

I didn't mean to ignore Wayne's beloved Kansas Jayhawks as they made their run in the NCAA Championship. It didn't seem wise to blog about them when they were winning. I hadn't written about them all year, after all; wouldn't want to jinx them at that point.

March Madness is just that around here. Wayne wears out the carpet between the living room where he watches the games and my scrapbook/computer/hide-out room in the back where I'm doing anything but tuning in to basketball. I'll pull for his team; I just don't watch the games. But he caught all he could that were broadcast in our area. It's not exactly a hotbed of Kansas basketball here in the Florida Panhandle, you know.

And as they progressed through the tournament, he claimed he'd be happy if they'd just beat North Carolina. And then if they'd just beat Ohio State. But we all know he wanted them to win it all. Unfortunately, that didn't happen but it wasn't for lack of us cheering them on. My brother and sister-in-law were even recruited as fans for the final game Monday night, and when they fell behind, Carol volunteered to retire early in case she was bringing them bad luck.

Wayne took their loss in stride for, as I've reminded him all year, his team far exceeded the pre-season predictions for them. They lost some games they shouldn't have but they also won some in near-miraculous fashion so I'd say it was a pretty incredible year.

This weekend the sport was golf and Wayne was glued to the television again, pulling for Bubba Watson as he contended in the Masters. Bubba grew up in nearby Bagdad, Florida, but our friends, the Cooks, hauled him all over the country to junior tournaments when he was a kid. It's been fun to follow his career and marvel at what he has achieved. I don't watch much golf either but I was right there on the couch next to Wayne for the closing holes and playoff.

Bubba has always had phenomenal talent; it's nice to see that he's figured out how to channel his emotions and maintain his emotion to perform well in high-pressure situations. He's his own person...but since he has pink shafts in his clubs and hits a pink driver, that's pretty obvious. Even Wayne's brother, who is not a golfer, is a Bubba fan. Part of his appeal is that he hits it so darn far but it's more than distance that draws people to him. He hits it in ugly places...just like the average Joe. But Bubba has the imagination and skill to make incredible shots from those ugly places...and the rest of us just wish we could.

One of those incredible shots from an ugly place just won him the Masters, and none of us who know Bubba can believe it yet. It isn't for lack of appreciation of his talent, but I heard Bubba say in his interview afterward that his dreams had never gone so far to think he could be wearing a green jacket. If his hadn't, ours certainly hadn't either.

So it's been quite the week in sports around our house. We may be only spectators but that doesn't mean we haven't worked up a sweat pulling for our favorites. Now on to the next great thing.

A Sweet Treat

I was rushing around last weekend, trying to squeeze in time to make a dessert between all the other jobs that were left in the jar before company arrived when I remembered a recipe on one of the cooking blogs I read that sounded intriguing. Quick as a bunny I hopped over to the site and copied it down. Well, truth be told, I didn't have to copy it...it was that simple.  Cream cheese, vanilla, Nutella and whipped cream. Mix it up, put it in some pretty sherbet glasses and it's good to go. Good being the operative word; it was a hit.

In a perfect world, I'd have taken a photo of this sweet creation but we simply ate them up too quickly for me to think of that. Everyone loved it and Wayne especially. He told me more than once that this recipe is a keeper and I'd agree...in part because it was so good but also because it was so easy.

But I can never seem to make a recipe just like it's written. I didn't want to use Oreo cookies for the crust because I didn't want the extra oreos in the house...we'd just eat them. So I used chocolate graham crackers instead. At least when we eat them they won't be as bad for us. The filling sticks to the crumbs as you spoon it into your mouth so I don't think it really matters what you use. In fact, I had extra filling that I put in a little bowl without any crumbs and it was still delicious. If you're into Oreos, I'm thinking some peanut butter ones might add a nice twist to this dessert. Heck, while you're at it, you could totally substitute peanut butter for the Nutella and have a yummy variation.

And I didn't have time to whip cream...besides, Cool Whip was BOGO at my local store so I just substituted a container of that for the sweetend whipped cream. Topped off with more Cool Whip and some dark chocolate, it was rich and sweet and the perfect ending to our meal. It looked really elegant and no one knew it went together in minutes.

If you're looking for a last-minute Easter dessert or maybe something to make a humdrum week night dinner more festive, this one got two thumbs up at our house. Happy Easter to you and yours!

No-Bake Nutella Cheescakes

18 Oreo cookies, crushed into crumbs
2 tablespoons butter, melted
12 ounces cream cheese, softened
1 cup nutella (chocolate hazelnut spread)
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 cups heavy whipping cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar

Stir cookie crumbs and butter together and press into the bottom of six small glass bowls to form a crust. Beat cream cheese until light and fluffy. Add Nutella and vanilla and mix until smooth and combined. In a separate bowl, beat cream and powdered sugar to medium to stiff peaks then gently fold into cream cheese mixture until streaks disappear. Divide evening among bowls. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least two hours before serving. Garnish with additional whipped cream and cookie pieces.

Cuppa Joe

I'm not a coffee drinker...never have been. But that's OK...neither is Wayne, although somehow we managed to raise two sons who are.

I do, however, own a coffee maker. When we started construction on our house, Uncle Joe announced if he was going to build our house for us, he was going to have to have a coffee pot on site so I bought one. Technically, Joe was our friend Hiram's uncle but if I could have adopted him as mine, I would have so acquiring a little Mr. Coffee to make him happy was an easy thing to do. As soon as the pole was up and the power on for saws and nail guns, that coffee pot went to work.

And it's continued to work since then although not nearly as frequently as when the house was under construction. The little coffee maker was pressed into service whenever company came to town. My poor guests...they'd barely get in the door before I'd rush them off to the grocery store to pick out whatever coffee they'd like to drink. I'm happy to buy all the supplies and furnish the coffee maker but I don't make it...they're on their own there.

But not anymore. This is now sitting on my kitchen cabinet:

My brother brought me a Keurig.

When he told me on the phone that he was bringing a coffee maker, I thought he meant he was bringing his own. Where I drink no coffee, he'd be at the other end of the spectrum so I wasn't surprised that he'd be willing to pack up his treasured Keurig and bring it along with him. After all, I reasoned, he could have it with him in the hotel rooms at his other stops on the trip. Imagine my surprise when he walked in with a brand-new one just for me.

So I've been sampling various teas that were in the sample pack he brought as well and am looking for an excuse to have a little hot chocolate. Some of the flavored coffees sound tasty as well...like Raspberry Chocolate Truffle. Maybe I could learn to be a coffee drinker after all.

Company Recap

The vacancy sign is back up at Hotel Arnall. There's still a little Pumpkin Gingerbread to snack on and the faint scent of coffee in the air but my brother and sister-in-law left this morning. We crammed as much as possible into our time together.

Like wandering around out at Ft. Pickens. Yes, I know...it seems we go there with everyone who visits from out of town but in this case, it was Jerry who had it on his list of things to do while we were here. It is an interesting place and we had a perfect day to explore the odd nooks and crannies.

And, of course, there was the beach. Carol was busy filling a ziplock bag with shells to take home in this photo but we all managed to get our feet wet in the Gulf...and the bottom of our pants too when the waves were higher than we expected. We stopped at the store near the campgrounds at the fort and picked up some things for lunch and ate them in the covered shelter near the beach. With the sea breeze and sunshine, it was delightful.

It's probably a good thing not every school district had spring break the same week as that spreads the crowds out over a period of time, and there were plenty of people out enjoying the beach. I was amazed at all the kites flying at Langdon Beach where we stopped. They were so happy and colorful and there was plenty of wind to keep them aloft. And yes, that's the Easter Bunny there on the left.

We had planned to watch the Blue Angels practice first thing Tuesday morning but Mother Nature and her rain showers had other ideas. We did, however, take in the Naval Air Museum before wandering over to Orange Beach for lunch. And with clearing weather, we hopped on the ferry at Gulf Shores and rode across Mobile Bay to Dauphin Island. It's about a 35-minute trip past several offshore oil platforms and we saw a school of dolphins just as we left Ft. Morgan.

We ended up in Biloxi for dinner with Brad who was only five or six last time Jerry and Carol saw him. We won't let that long pass before they're together again. Eating at Newk's was one of the few non-seafood meals we had during their visit. From shrimp to snapper, crab cakes to crab claws, we fulfilled their wish to eat seafood everyday...and we all loved it.

Wednesday's agenda included going through some old photos and telling stories from the past. It was a great way to relax, reconnect and wrap up a great visit before they hit the road today.

We packed a lot into their time here but still the days went by too quickly. But we got a little sand between their toes and if local folklore holds true, that means it won't be long before they're back again. I hope that's right...their room is ready and waiting for them.

Drive-By

Life is busy in Arnall-land. We have houseguests for the next few days...my brother Jerry and his sweet wife, Carol. There are beaches to be seen and seafood to be eaten so if I'm scarce around here, that's where I'll be. Maybe a few details of our adventures will make it to the blog before they depart on Thursday...we'll see.

Newer Isn't Always Better

I've been going to yoga classes for a little over two months now, and invariably I say to myself as I walk out of the gym how much I love them. Sure, I'm walking a little gingerly as my muscles are fatigued from a good workout but they also feel long and loose. More importantly, they're stronger and more flexible too. With many of the positions, the instructor gives modifications ranging from beginners to advanced and I'm abandoning many of the beginner variations and moving on to more challenging ones. Heck, I can even do the pre-headstand one now, balancing on just my head and hands. Someday maybe I'll get my legs off my elbows and up in the air.

It's essentially the same people in class every Tuesday and Thursday...all women. We have the occasional man in the room, usually by accident or to retrieve some piece of equipment stored in there before he beats a hasty retreat.

That's what happened Thursday and it led to discussion about men and yoga. Melissa, who teaches the class, said she'd never had a man participate in a class. While yoga was developed in India by men, for men, it seems to a woman's discipline here in the U.S.

When someone mentioned that they had taught many of the yoga poses to their teenage son who now regularly does them to improve his flexibility for sports, I added that I'd just read an article about Broga, classes designed with men in mind. Apparently calling it "bro" takes some of the chick stigma away. Yoga offers a lot of health benefits, including stress relief, so if it takes modifying the name to make it more appealing to men, so be it.

From there the conversation on yoga class variations went downhill. It seems in some of the big cities you can attend Naked Yoga classes. That's right: yoga sans the yoga pants...and everything else. That's.just.wrong. Believe me, you get some "interesting" views of the anatomy of the person ahead of you as we're twisting ourselves into pretzels but at least they're covered by clothing. I don't want to even imagine what they would be like if all the participants were naked!

Then someone popped up and said they'd seen a segment on Good Morning America about karaoke yoga. There were big screens instead of mirrors and a DJ spinning pop tunes to which the participants sang along. I suppose it depends on what you're looking for out of a workout but I happen to like the New Age sounds of pan flutes and the sounds of the ocean that are played in my class. Dance music and badly-sung lyrics just wouldn't give much of a sense of calm and relaxation in my book.

I suppose some marketing guru is behind these spins on traditional yoga classes...an effort to bring in new members or hold old ones with something different. But from where I see it, newer isn't always better.

Rub-A-Dub

I'm deep in the spring cleaning mode, at least insofar as the outdoor space is concerned. It was a race yesterday to see who'd finish first...me scrubbing the screened enclosure or the sun disappearing over the horizon. I won but just barely.

And speaking of the screened enclosure, it left me shaking my head. I tackled the inside first. It takes longer because the support beams all face inside so there are two sides to wash on each one. You can wash eight or nine sections before you have to stop and replace the soapy water; it just gets too dirty. So after you've washed them and rinsed them, you'd think doing the outside would be a piece of cake. Screen is, after all, a lot of holes; how much dirt can the second side have? The answer is still quite a lot. I don't know how it happens but I saw the dirty water to prove it.

Today's chore was all the patio furniture and, as the picture says, it was yucky. We can thank all the pine trees in the area for that...if you can be thankful for the greenish-yellowish pollen it leaves all over everything. You just have to endure until the pollen subsides and then wash everything.

It would be nice if washing were as simple as turning the hose on it but it's not. That pollen has magical powers because even though it appears to be the consistency of talcum powder, it's deceptively clingy. I tried writing on the table with just my finger first and only part of it came off so I had to resort to a wet paper towel to get down to the white table underneath.

But all the tables are white now...along with the arms of the patio chairs and the background of the cushions that go on them. And everything else that was out there with them. I'm looking forward to meals on the patio again, enjoying fresh breezes and the new leaves on all the trees. I won't even think ugly thoughts about those pine trees with their six-inch sprigs of new growth that were responsible for all that pollen.

There are only two more rub-a-dub projects on my list to make the space ready for outdoor living. I'm looking forward to the weekend already.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

This is how I spent my day. Well, after being at the gym at 8am to sign up for April classes (you have to do it in person) and after giving the house a lick and a promise as far as cleaning is concerned. And before walking four miles, cooking supper, and collapsing on the couch after a nice hot shower. Yes...it was a busy day. I had planned to iron this evening but there just wasn't enough energy left.

But the pool deck is all clean and nice. It's an annual rite of spring, I suppose...one of the first in a line of tasks that need to be done once warmer weather arrives. I don't think I'm late getting to it as far as the calendar is concerned but spring-like weather arrived so early that the plants in the flower beds next to the pool deck are bigger than usual. That meant I had to be a little more careful but the trade-off is it was 82 degrees. I like that.

I can't, however, say that I like the mud bath I always get when I tackle this chore. There's a small path of pavers through the flower bed and it's a real challenge to get the spray to the edge of the 12" squares without going off the edge. Because when you go off the edge, the mud flies. I created more than one mud volcano but I also had more than one geyser too when the spray hits in the corners of each of those upright posts too. Imagine how dirty I would have been had there not been some of those geysers to wash me down every now and then. Long story short...it was a messy day.

The pool deck looks good though; wish I could say the same about the screen enclosure and the pool itself. A certain amount of that dirt dislodged by the power washer ended up on both. While that's part of the process, it feels a little like taking one step forward and two back. On the other hand, both were already on the list of things to clean now that spring is here. That's why the pool deck comes first. One thing's for sure...I won't be nearly as dirty as today when I finish those chores. Right now though I'm ready to crash.

Home

While the old blog suffered from a little neglect last week, my time was spent with family and friends. The weather was lousy but it didn't matter as we were inside laughing, reminiscing and just soaking up the face time. Sometimes you just need that. The time went by much too quickly but then it always does.

If there's any truth behind the phrase Last one to leave turn out the lights, they must be flickering in Illinois and Indiana. I'll swear every car that passed us as we motored down Interstate 65 had an Illinois or an Indiana tag; it must be spring break there this week. And pass us they did...they were in a hurry to get to the beach. Too bad; they should have slowed down to appreciate the dogwoods blooming in among the pines. The redbuds had been spectacular farther north but the dogwoods were having their day in Tennessee and northern Alabama.

Illinois also wins the contest for the most expensive gave. The best we could find when we stopped there was $3.97 a gallon for regular. Needless to say, there were stations that were over $4. I guess I'd be in a hurry to get away from there if I had to pay those prices too.

So we spent the day in get-life-back-together mode. Our freshly-fertilized grass is green and growing so Wayne gave it a haircut. I tackled a mountain of dirty clothes and an even dirtier car. And the pantry and fridge are restocked ready for another week. It was nice to get my miles in under a bright blue sky and sunshine.

Home feels pretty good.

That Will Get Your Heart Rate Up

We're on the road...and that means I'm getting my miles in on a hotel treadmill. I don't mind; I can fit it in around everything else we're trying to fit into the schedule.

So it was 9pm when I headed to the fitness room tonight. Not much demand tonight for fitness it seems as the room was dark when I arrived but the lights popped on automatically as I walked in the door. I settled into my stride and was soon lost in the music my iPod was serenading into my ears.

I'd been walking for almost three miles when suddenly the room was plunged into total darkness. All I could see was the bar of red numbers telling me how far and how long I'd walked. It was only an inch or so high so it wasn't much light but it glowed bright in the pitch black.

The first thought through my mind was that the hotel had lost power but then those red numbers registered in my brain. I wouldn't be seeing them if the power was out.

Now you should know I step it on out when I'm on the treadmill, legs pumping and arms swinging. There's no holding on for me so the next thought in my head was "Holy cow! How am I going to keep up when I can't see a thing?" I had visions of me flying off the back of the belt.

I leaned forward, feeling for the handrail and trying to remember where the "stop" button was on this unfamiliar machine when the lights came back on. Apparently I was in just the right place on the treadmill that the motion detector in the room wasn't sensing me. Believe me, I was moving, just not where the detector was pointed. Reaching for the "stop" button was enough to activate it.

I've got to say though, there was no problem getting my heart rate up there in this workout.

Grow, Grow, Grow

I'm an expert at spreading fertilizer now. OK...so maybe "expert" is a bit of a stretch but I am experienced now. We put the weed and feed down on Wednesday with Wayne doing the front yard and me doing the back. I was happily surprised when Wayne opened the first bag and poured it into our brand-spanking-new spreader...it was pink! I took that as an omen from the grass gods that I was supposed to be involved in the process of putting it on the lawn but then when I did, I understood why it was such a distinct color. So you could see where you've been. And so you could see where the irrigation system did a good job of dissolving it when we turned it on afterwards. One of Thursday's chores was to water in the spots that still had pink showing...along with destroy a few fire ant mounds that have already popped up.

And Wayne and I both swore the grass was absolutely greener the next morning. I suspect it was a figment of our imagination but it did make us feel like the hard work we'd done the day before was paying off already.

One of the things I noticed as I was trudging back and forth across the back yard trying to stay in a straight line was all the blueberries on the bush. It's covered with clusters like this. They're about the size of the end of your little finger but still quite green. Since this is only its second year, the bush is still quite low to the ground so the trick will be to keep the local wildlife from getting the blueberries before I do. This one is an early variety but there's a second bush next to it that's a later one; it's just starting to bloom.

There are still a lot of blooms in the lemon tree but not as many as a few weeks ago. When you walked by it then, the air was filled with the sweetest scent. I wasn't the only one who loved it; plenty of big, fat bumblebees were drawn to it too. Little bitty lemons are starting to set on where the blossoms once were. Most are smaller than the eraser on a pencil but these two must have been the very first to make the scene. They're about the size of a white grape. Best of all, there's no sign of scale so all my spraying and scrubbing seems to have done the trick.

Green growing things...it's one of the reasons this is my favorite time of year.

With Friends Like This, Who Needs Enemies

We had dinner out tonight...a rare treat for a Thursday evening. But our son Brad was in town and had time for dinner with Mom and Dad so we met up at the restaurant for a hug, some delicious Mexican food, and the chance to catch up in person on the latest in our lives. The time went much too quickly, but then it always does when we have a chance to be together.

As we were standing in the parking lot saying our goodbyes, I looked up to see this rather strange-looking car parked nearby. I'm sure it wasn't there when we arrived and my mind was still processing why it looked so odd when Wayne commented on it.

 

While Wayne and I were a bit puzzled by what we saw, Brad knew exactly what it was...someone was pulling a prank by wrapping rolls and rolls of Saran Wrap around a car. I didn't want to ask how he was so familiar with it; there are some things a Mother just doesn't need to know.

The wrapper was proficient. The clear plastic went round and round from hood to trunk, and then round and round from top to bottom the other direction. He/she either had an assistant or was adept at rolling the wrap under the car and then pulling it up before throwing it across the roof to the other side again. And he/she garnered style points too by incorporating the spent cardboard tubes into the design. They formed sleeves on the windshield wipers, were woven into the wheels and formed an artificial extension of the tail pipes in back. The red balloon was like a cherry on the top of this one-of-a-kind creation. Someone is in for a big surprise when they finish dinner or their shift at work.

And on the driver's window was a small note...something to the effect of King XXX - 2, Queen XXX - 1, referencing, I suppose, the fact that the King was now one-up on his lady friend. And it was signed I Love You. With friends like this, who needs enemies.

Closing the Book

Sometimes I read a story in the newspaper that just makes me heave a big sigh and go awwww. Today was one of them.

The story was about how the publisher of Encyclopaedia Britannica is ceasing production of the printed version of its reference books. It makes total sense really. In this digital age everyone scrolls through web sites instead of flipping through paper pages for the answers to their questions. The world has pretty much passed them by.

But that wasn't the case when I was growing up. We had the junior set...smaller books, fewer subjects and obviously a lower price. Still, it was great to be able to head to the bookcase and learn about something unfamiliar in the days before Internet connections put all that at your fingertips. And it was a godsend when we reached the point in school where school writing projects required us to cite sources. No need to go "all the way" to the library (six blocks max) when the answer was right in the living room. And better still if you had a friend who's parents had purchased World Book; you could trade info and each have two sources.

In some ways I'm a little surprised we had the encyclopedias. It's not that my parents were adverse to learned; that certainly wasn't the case. It's just that the books were sold by door-to-door salesmen and I can remember plenty of occasions where we either didn't answer when someone who appeared to be such a salesman came knocking or if we did, it was barely opened and only long enough for a polite We're not interested. Apparently that was a common reception as Encyclopaedia Britannica stopped its door-to-door sales quite some time ago.

It's not too late to thumb through the pages and read about some obscure topic, confident that you're getting accurate information...well, digitally anyway. The entire contents of Britannica.com are available free for one week starting March 14. I think I'll go research something...just for old time's sake.

Get Your Scrappy On

You know the saying...Spring is busting out all over? Right now it seems to apply to more than just the landscape as online scrapbooking classes are popping up everywhere. Here are a few you might be interested in:

Cute little Shimelle Laine is teaching a workshop titled The Hitchhiker's Guide to Scrapbooking" over at Two Peas in a Bucket. As Shimelle says, it's a class "designed to steer you in the right direction when you get into a scrapping slump, when you are drowning in a sea of scrapbook supplies and a plethora of photos, and are wishing things just came together easily." Man...do I ever need that! There are five chapters with video, printable PDF and a reference section with sketches, supply lists and the chance to drool over 42 of her pretty pages, all for $25. It's self-paced which means you can start whenever you want and work at your own speed. To sign up or get more information, check here.

And Shimelle is one of the fifteen instructors who'll be participating in the third go-round of True Scrap. This one is a little more pricey at $127 but there are some amazing teachers. The subjects cover everything from photography to stamping to using your Cricut machine and the materials is presented in video format. You can see the full line-up and class descriptions here.

If getting learning artsy techniques and getting messy is your thing, I can think of no one I'd rather learn that from than Tim Holtz. I've never taken one of his classes (although I haven't given up hope that some day I might) but I have watched him demonstrate techniques at trade shows on numerous occasions and he's a terrific teacher. He's able to break what seem to be complicated processes down to very doable steps with his clear instructions and now he's offering that online. Hurry though...class starts March 19. Check out the details here.

It hasn't seemed that long ago that including digital materials in class handouts for students to print and use in projects was revolutionary. That's all changing...one of the latest offerings from Big Picture Classes takes it a step farther and includes digital files for personal cutting machines. That would be Heidi Swapp's new class The Art of Observation. It's 12 weeks of observation assignments that you'll turn into layouts with some of Heidi's trademark creativity behind them in the form of video presentations and handouts. It's $99 and you can watch the video to learn more about it here.

Finally, Megan Hoeppner, Creative Editor at Creating Keepsakes, is leading a class focused on the relationships that are important in life. She has a variety of techniques to teach as you create an entire 12x12 album about your family and special friends and have some fun in the process. The cost on this one is $19.99 and there's a video preview here.

So many options you're sure to find one to fit your interest and budget.

Berry Good

It started two weeks ago. We were wandering through the produce section of Publix looking for apples when we spied the display of strawberries. The fact that they were so red and juicy looking would have made them irresistible on their own but they were on sale. Bonus! It didn't take long for us to load up the three containers needed for the promotional price and home with us they came. A bowl of fresh berries and a little whipped cream became the evening treat for the next several nights.

When the next weekend rolled around and we found ourselves back in Publix, it wasn't hard to add more strawberries to the basket. They were, after all, still at the same bargain price and we'd enjoyed them so much we were happy to have another round of them.

By yesterday's trip to the store, I was sure the sale price would be history but was pleasantly surprised to see that the sign over the strawberries read just the same as it had the last two trips. The article in our local paper said the mild winter had produced a bumper crop which, I'm sure, is why the cost has remained so low and the quality still so high. You guessed it...we loaded up again.

You'd think at this point I'd be trying to figure out new and different things to do with strawberries but that's not the case. We like them plain...sliced, no sugar, a little whipped cream. Oh, they're good in other forms, I agree, but when they're sweet and juicy like these have been, it's hard to want to fiddle with their natural goodness.

I'm not sure how long this bounty will last but we're going to enjoy it as long as we can.

A Really Big Boat

I suppose when the length of a sea-going vessel exceeds two football fields it ceases to be a boat and should be referred to as a ship...probably in the biggest letters possible. Whatever you want to call it, we went down to see it this afternoon.

The largest commercial ship to ever visit Pensacola arrived earlier this week and it's getting plenty of attention. Size is part of the reason...it's huge! I can't begin to fathom something that weights almost 56,000 tons.

The Eagle Sydney is an tanker that ferries crude oil from drilling platforms to the mainland but it's in our port for about ten days for some repairs. Looking at the sides of it as we walked the length of it from the public side of the dock, I told Wayne I'd want the rust spots fixed if I was on board but apparently the jobs include a new boiler system and some other odds and ends. That means dollars coming into our community through a port that has lost money every year we've lived here. It's a complicated situation but the recent efforts to recruit repair business like this on ships that service offshore rigs are meeting with success.

And that makes it interesting to see this behemoths when they come lumbering into port. While big, this one is kind of boring otherwise. Some of them have numerous booms that are both enormous and strangely shaped, partly because they lay pipeline on the Gulf's floor. One had this odd circular-shaped appendage that we finally figured out was a helipad.

Anchored on the public side of the dock was this old wooden sailing ship that was open for tours. We didn't do that but I was struck by the contrast between the two vessels in size, materials, age and purpose.

You can read more about the Eagle Sydney on the local paper's webpage, including some cool photos of the nighttime arrival. While Photo #10 has its faults, I do like the fact that you get some perspective of the ship's size when you see how it dwarfs the tug boats helping line it up for the pier.