God grant me serenity

Please.

It's been cool here for the last few days. Today the sun in all it's warming glory worked a bit harder. It is just gorgeous. Not a cloud, no humidity, still cool, but sunny and lovely.

I love to go for my daily golf cart ride and with it being so cold here, I've missed for a few days. Today as Ian was driving me around (you know I'm a princess and I must be chauffeured), I was just at peace with the world. We headed down the cart path near the canal and I spotted a gator swimming in the water. We stopped to watch him effortlessly glide, barely making a ripple. As I watched him I realized that's exactly how I like my life to be. I no longer need a frenetic pace to make my life complete. I like a day with nothing planned. A day where reading a book is the most strenuous thing on my agenda. A day, where, if a friend stops by and says 'let's go here', I can say 'sure, I've nothing planned'. A day, where like the gator, I can just travel at my own speed, in my own direction.

I love it so much here in Florida in my lovely little park. The sun warms me, the breeze cools me, the friends cheer me from the inside. Life is good. Life is serene.

I'm off to the library now.....maybe.

No, I'm not dead

I know a lot of you have been wondering that.

Dennis, as some of you know, works as a security guard at 2 of our local hospitals here in FL. Now to see him, if you don't know him, can be rather intimidating. He's 6'2, and though he's dieting now, he's still well over 3 bills in weight. He lumbers when he walks due to flat feet, and well, he just can look rather scary. He's not. He's a teddy bear. That's neither here nor there, and has nothing to do with what I want to share, but as I'm 50 now, I'm allowed to ramble.

He came home from work last night and said he'd had a man in that reminded him of my father. If you knew my Daddy, you'd be all ears at this point. First of all he said the man kept saying, 'Jesus Christ', not in the context of praying of course. When my Dad said this, as he did at least 20 times a day, I'd say 'holy smokes' and that was his cue that he'd blasphemed around several of my daycare kiddies and should be saying holy smokes instead. Again, neither here nor there, just the first thing that reminded Den of Daddy.

The man became confused and agitated so they had to tie him down. He'd been messing with his catheter, as my Dad did often also. He just wouldn't leave it alone. The nurse chastised him, told him to leave it alone. He looked at her and said 'well it's my pecker!'.

I just don't know how you argue with that logic. I guess with arm and leg straps.

Pondering life

In case you don't know, I'll be 50 on Monday.

I love my birthday more than any other day of the year. I suspect it's because it's all about me. Oh you don't have to tell me, I know I'm self centered, and quite egocentric. Aparantly quite redundant also. I love any occasion that makes me the queen. I'm not shy and never afraid to be the center of attention. What better time than my birthday? I don't have to share that with anyone.

I have 3 sons. Two of them are married and the third in a relationship. I told them all when they started dating that I understood holiday commitments. I know that they'll want to be at 'her' parents house at Christmas, Thanksgiving, Mother's day. You name it, they'll want to be at 'her' parents house. I could give a rats ass about that. Those days are meant to be shared. Ahhh, but my birthday I do not have to share. It's my day to be adored. It's my day to be lavished with fabulous gifts and clever cards. It's my day to receive the attention from my family and friends that I deserve. Yes, it's all about me.

I was laying in bed this morning thinking of the angst most people go through when hitting the major milestones in the progress between birth and death. I'll be 50, half a century. More than half my life is over. Nope, no angst. I'm not sure why as it sure seems to bother most people. I didn't mind turning 30, or 40 either. Maybe 60 will bother me...doubt it though. So, what profound cerebration was running through my gray matter?

* I wonder if I'll get any presents?
* I wonder if I'll be taken out for a lavish dinner somewhere?
* I wonder if someone will bring me breakfast in bed?
* I really want some of the raspberry cheesecake from Olive Garden on my birthday but I don't want to have dinner there.
* I get to use the mug my friend Virginia gave me before I left Houghton Lake. I've saved it as it says 'How the &%!! did I get to be 50??' on it. I couldn't use it before Monday as it just wouldn't be right. I shall take it to coffee hour Monday morning wearing the blinking pin she gave me that also proclaims my age. How fun!

I'm so excited for Monday to get here I can barely stand myself. I'm sure you're thinking that the people around me probably can't stand myself either. You may be right. I don't care though. My birthday only comes one day a year and I just love it!

I wonder if I should wear my tiara out in public on Monday or just around the house?

Log Blog

As some of you know, when we got to Florida this year, our gutters were clogged full of gunk and that had caused water damage to our lanai. A big culprit is this big cedar tree. It's branches hang over the roof and it sheds nasty, black, icky stuff that fills the gutters to the top. It drops things on the ground too and it's dirty and icky. I thought it might be nice to chop the tree down and lay some concrete. Yes, you've caught me. I'm definitely not a tree hugging hippy! In order to do any improvements to our site, we need permission from the office. In the past, that has been nearly impossible. We've got new management now so I thought I'd give it a try. They really don't allow many trees to be cut down in here, so I wasn't hopeful. One day after turning in my request form, it was returned to me approved! Wooohooo! This is how Mr. Cedar looked at the beginning. Onwards and downwards!!!

The tree service brought in their equipment. It looks rather like a lunar vehicle I thought.

This is Stubby. OK, so that probably wasn't his name. It is, however, what we called him the whole 6 hours he was here. He might have been small, but man could he work! Here he is firing up the small chainsaw for the first cut.

He handed it off to Mr. Goodlooking, who also happened to be the boss and owner of the company. Guess that allowed him honors of the first cut. You can see the branch just about to hit the ground here.

Here is Mr. Cedar after several branches have been shorn. By now, I think Mr. Goodlooking had given up the task and passed the baton, well, the chainsaw, over to Stubby.

After the branches hit the ground, they were lugged over to the chipper. It was hungry and made short work of disposing of them.

Here is Mr. Cedar looking more naked than before. Love it! I was sitting on the golf cart across the street watching all this. It was 90+ degrees, and as you can see, full sun. It was HOT HOT HOT! I do not know how Stubby kept up. Mr. Goodlooking said he was like the Energizer Bunny...kept going and going. Mr. Goodlooking called him Tank. I liked Stubby better, so Stubby he shall remain.

A much needed water break!

All the branches are off now and just the trunk is left. Mr. Goodlooking is notching the base so they can pull the trunk down.

Here Stubby takes hold of the rope and lays into it.

Even Mr. Cedar is no match for Stubby!

I thought the cut edges just beautiful.

This is what they'd slice off and make cedar clocks from. Not only was it pretty, it smelled gorgeous now. All that fresh cut cedar!

Mr. Goodlooking got to use the brand new stump grinder.

A closer look.

Stubby gets a much deserved sit down!!!

Here, almost all trace of Mr. Cedar is going, going, gone.

Time to unload the front end loader.

Coming over to pick up the trunk.

Dropping it into the dump truck.

Coming back for more.

This is the last chunk to go.

Another supervisor!

Loading up the front end loader for the trip home.

Voila! The finished product!

It was so hot watching them we grabbed 2 beers and headed off to the pool as soon as they left!

nah nah nah nah boo boo

I guess that's something you're not allowed to say in football. Flipping through the channels just now, I saw the rough, tough, ref stand there with hands on hips and actually call 'taunting'. WTF? Did I hear that right? Football, sport of hard hitting, broken limbs, blood, sweat, and tears, oh wait, I think that may be a singing group. Anyway, since when are you not allowed to taunt in football? Not only that, WHY aren't you allowed to taunt in football. I mean really, who's it going to hurt? Is the big bad football player going to run off the field crying because Skippy made fun of him? Good grief I've heard everything now.

I wonder if they're allowed to pop their thumbs in their ears and waggle their fingers while sticking their tongue out at the other guy? If not, I'd like to know what they'd call that foul!

Don't take this the wrong way

God I cringe when I hear those words. You just know it's going to be followed by something that of course you'll take the way it's meant to be taken, but the person speaking them hopes you'll think it's the wrong way so they'll not be in trouble.

So today, while sitting at Dairy Queen eating french fries dipped in mayonnaise, my friend says those words to me. I'm thinking 'shit, what now?' Said friend says 'why is it that some people seem to carry all their weight in their butt and thighs? I'm relieved that the subject isn't about money or something 'bad'. I explain that everyone has different body shapes blah blah blah. I go on to tell him about a girl I went to high school with that looked like Sponge Bob Square Pants. She was a block from the waist up and had tiny little stick legs. I said I was glad I was fat all over.

I dipped another french fry and my menopausal brain kicked in. As I chewed the first half and double dipped the second half back into the mayo, I remembered the very first sentence. The one that started the conversation. "Don't take this the wrong way but...." OMG the only reason anyone would say that, followed by a question, is if I had the answer to the question. So, the question, 'why do some people carry all their weight in their butts and thighs', was aimed at someone he thought had first hand knowledge of the answer!

If that isn't the kick in the pants I need to get back on my WW program, I don't know what is.

I guess he had a big enough target.

When I was young

I have a friend who has a rather bad memory. I like to think mine is pretty good. It's very quiet here this morning which I dearly love, and I have been thinking about my childhood. I tried to go back to my earliest memory. I came up with two.

First, I remember standing on the front seat of a car with my youngest brother at the wheel. Remember now, my brothers were 14 & 16 when I was born. I'm guessing I was no more than 3 here. I remember coming home from the ride all excited, running into the house and telling my mom what fun I had doing broadies in the parking lot with Danny. My mother was not happy, which in turn made my brother not happy. I remember him flinging a pillow at my feet and knocking me down. Asshole. That is him on the left, in the Reno hat. He's got his arm around me playing all nicey nicey, but I suspect he's just trying to remember where he left the pillow. As I said, they were 14 & 16 when I was born. They're old now. I can take them.

I remember kindergarten. I started school when I was 4 and this was at the beginning of the year. We were having a turtle race that day at school. That was in the days when we were allowed to have tiny turtles as pets. We didn't know they carried salmonella at that time. They were just cute, took little care, and every kid had one. We carried them in little white boxes, the kind you put Chinese take away in. It was time for the big race and I remember being afraid to touch my turtle! Perhaps deep down I already knew about the salmonella thing. Nah, I was just a scaredey cat. I opened the box and shook him out onto the floor. After the race, I didn't want to put him back in the box. I remember pretending I couldn't catch him. Kenneth Delecki came to my rescue. He had a painted turtle. He also had a gold front tooth. How cool was that? He caught my turtle, boxed it up for me, and we went to lay on our rugs for nap time. I can still picture exactly how that class room looked.

I like turtles today. In soup.