wonderful time of the year

 

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

I wish this tune was playing throughout my blog. I know its possible but my capability to insert it is quite limited.


I love the Christmas season because it is so glorious to gift and give to others .

I won't deny that I don't mind getting a gift myself, but it is much better to give than to receive as the proverb goes.

Mr. Man takes his holiday quite seriously from the comfort of his overstuffed couch and iPad. Packages arrive daily via UPS, Fed Ex, US postal service, and multiple other generic delivery people. The Letter carrier likes to hand the package off into the hands of the recipient. She says she feels like Santa, and people look forward to her arrival. (I am most definitely a fan of hers).

I'm on a first name basis with my UPS driver. He is here so much, I should just put his name on the door. He honks as he drives up, runs up the path, greets me, package handoff, and then jogs down the walk to his truck where he honks goodbye. Always a bonus to see his tan , well shapen legs too!

Today, UPS arrives with a happy honk. I open the door wide, arms extended and ready to accept my packages. There is a trainee today, aka a "Swamper", who is running towards me. He's all smiles, and has the package held out with extended arms to match mine. He makes the handoff, and he says, "Look at us! , we are commercial material! Where are the cameras and production crew?!"

I agree. Why isn't this moment being recorded?  Its a classic UPS moment.

I have no idea what's in these boxes, but it doesn't matter. It was fun receiving them. They feel pretty light so there's probably just packing bubbles in them. I'm very glad that my delivery people are fun and happy and don't slam dunk the boxes on the front porch!

Yes, it is a wonderful time and I don't want it to stop. Happy holidays!

Garland Wars

Suddenly it's December 2016!
How did that happen? What the heck happened to November, all the stories I was supposed to tell and was there ever turkey? It seems like a blur.

Now, as the world gears up to celebrate the birth of Christ, we start to adorn our houses  with festive greenery and lights and then take it up a notch indoors.

Amy Grant is singing Christmas songs to me as I try to stay calm and serene while hanging the door garland. It's a yearly battle that I seem to forget from year to year until I'm fighting the garland again.

 

  As I fluff and mold it to appear reasonably good looking, I'm envisioning the picture perfect holiday display seen at my friend Lisa's home which was ready for a photo shoot .  My hope is to achieve a mere fraction of her display. Some of us were just blessed with decorative talent. Okay, my hope is to get the damn garland up and make it stay up until after the New Year like it's supposed to!

  The garland I'm fiddling with is alive. Has a mind of its own. IT LIVES!!!!  It bites, scratches and fights back as I attempt to secure it for the umpteenth time. As soon as its on the house, it launches itself off the door , ripping the 3M hooks used to secure it along with it...and a fair amount of paint too!  Oh yeah! I remember this encounter. I've had it 30 times before. You would think I would learn my lesson and have a florist deliver and hang a wondrous bough of greenery over the door. Head shake NO, I am not a millionaire , so there is no florist coming to my rescue and I'm stuck indefinitely with this monster of a garland which spits bits of its "needles" at me randomly and makes a mess that  never entirely cleans up.                              (Note- above photo Is NOT my garland!!!)

                                      

There will be no ball, bangles, glitter or bling for my garland. It's a nice fake green. Half it's lights are out, and they took me a tremendous time to put back into it in the first place. I'm settling. Good enough. If you come over , kindly comment that the door garlands look "lovely and natural", even though they are hanging at every angle but straight. I'm counting on it staying put for another 3 weeks. I hung it on iron hooks imbedded into the stucco- yes, much to Mr. Man's dismay, I anchored it knowing that the new paint and stucco recently applied,  would probably suffer irreparable damage.

Now I have total garland war recall. No matter. I will forget all about this trauma as soon as I step back and admire my handiwork. That's the best part. Selective memory!

Amy Grant was a steady voice throughout my ordeal . Now she's reminding me, "There's a parade there, they have it made there, bring home a tan for NEW YEARS EVE". We do have it made here. This could be happening in a blizzard, or even a near freeze instead of sunny 68 degree weather.

Better luck to all of you attempting to Deck you halls. Fling it up there. I defy anyone who has a negative thought about the greenery around my doors. At least I'm trying. It makes me happy. I don't do it to impress anyone but myself. As I gaze at my garland twinkle lights , I am amazed that they twinkle just for me and stay put because I was determined.

May your December days be "Merry and BRIGHT", and may you have garland that minds you and hangs steady with a hundred twinkle lights.

Merry Christmas.

A trip to the deep south

I have recently returned from a trip to the fine state of Tennessee.

 We drove one end to the other of this beautiful state, soaking up the local flavors and talking with the people. It's a state rich in history and endless beauty of mountain ranges and foliage. Deep forests surround much of its interstate and of course, it is the home of country music, honky tonks and lively Appalachian tunes.

Mr. Man, who envisions us as avid outdoorsmen, began planning this trip months ago, accumulating survival gear, hiking equipment and weaponry. When the thermal blankets, ponchos and missile guidance system arrived, I began to panic. His dream to hike part of the Appalachian trail would not be thwarted, despite, rain, snow, rampant wildlife, or mud slide.

Yes, we have hiked before in some remote areas. Yes, we survived. Yes, I did it with a jacked up knee but now it is jacked up even more so I had some trepidation about an extensive hike throughout the Smokey Mountains.

We began our trip in Nashville, did all the touristy things, visited countless local hangouts, and did our best to see all that we could. As we bid good-bye to the Grand Ole Opry (an absolutely MUST do on any visit to Nashville), we began our real trip for the mountainous hiking. Our gear filled 2 giant suitcases, and we were determined to use it. (note here that my hiking boots took up almost half of the space in one).

Cool weather had been predicted, but to our surprise and that of the state, it was HOT and humid! Drat ! I have a much better winter wardrobe that I brought to finally use.

What we were not expecting was the number of people who had the exact same purpose as ours and found ourselves in many , many traffic jams in the towns and parks. As we entered the Smokey Mountains National Forest, we encountered a one way, one lane road, bumper to bumper, making arriving at our hikes trail head nearly impossible, along with finding a parking spot.

It was gratifying that the Fall leaves were turning just as we arrived and continued to do so majestically during our stay. If anyone is interested in seeing a few hundred photos of a red tree, an orange one and occasional yellow clusters, come on over!

It was also wonderful that this national park is one of the most visited and sought out, which was apparent by the thousands of people there. It was also very accessible, and no charges for anything in the park.

We creeped at 5 miles an hour on a scenic loop of Cades Cove. Luckily, we were able to see much of what we wanted and secure a parking place when needed, even if it was a little wonky and straddling a ditch. As we drove by large open meadows, we saw deer and Antelope feeding on the dewy grasses. Signage is posted on the posts of barbed wire barriers along the road that 50 yards must be maintained between the human and wildlife, and that the antelope and many park black bears are not as sweet and friendly as you might think and may charge and kill you.

I missed the photo op of the father standing under one of these signs, spreading open the barbed wire fence and pushing his two little children into the meadow to get a closer look at the deer bucks.

(insert here cartoon of man casting fishing pole with infant on hook as bait).

We turned off the road at one overlook and behind us a family with several children emptied out, commenting that they saw a bear run up a small hill. Mr. Man and I were hoping to spot a bear, but not encounter one. We were up on the opposite side of aforementioned hill and didn't see the bear and glad of it. As we walked down the hill, the mother is sending her two youngest up the hill past us to look for the bear. The children were exchanging plans on what they would do if they got eaten by a bear. Little sister tells brother that he should go first because she's not ready to "get dead".

Their mother stood at the bottom of the hill to await the screams of her offspring being mauled.
We shook our heads at her stupidity and wondered if these two sets of parents just didn't want their kids any more.

As we drove on through the park, heading for the trail head, a bear galloped by our car. I was shocked to see it so close but mesmerized by its majesty and size. That was the thrill of my day.

We reached our hike start, got Mr. Man loaded up and I bid him adieu as he prepared to hike his trail with all his gear. Should you hike alone??? NEVER! No fear, as he was being joined by a hundred other hikers in similar gear, ready to forge their way into the wilderness. I told Mr. Man I would wait for him and save my knees for the next hike. He returned 3 hours later, triumphant that he had hiked a portion of the Appalachian trail, had reached his waterfall,  and had only 1,301 miles more to go before he reached the state of Main. 

It was an awesome trip. The landscape is so different than anywhere I have visited. We felt fulfilled that the forest color changes were done for our benefit, we hiked, we toured, we explored, and met the wild life.

A trip to Tennessee is recommended to "all y'all".  Don't forget to eat some grits,  hot chicken , and wash it down with some moonshine while you're there too!

The reabsorption process

We had just been out to dinner and drank a gallon of lemon water but because it is so dang hot outside, the body quickly absorbs it. Feeling sated and believing the evening is over, the decision to wait to use any "facilities" is pushed to the back of the mind and can wait until arriving back to the homestead 5 miles away.

  On the way home, there is the favored shopping store, declaring marvelous sales, and savings and my date, Mr. Man, suggests we stop there . Disbelieving he has even suggested this date add on, I take him up on it before he changes his mind , and also wondering what the catch is. . . he abhors home décor stores and floral arrangements.

Happily shopping and pushing my empty cart, looking very hard down every aisle to find something to  fill it. Nothing. Then I discover a 90% off aisle and spot the perfect accent. A must have. How inconvenient that now I need to use the bathroom!  No problem. This store has a lovely one and I head that way, only to find the entry to the hallway where its located barricaded with a sign that prohibits passage due to some sort of water problem and cleanup is in progress.

Not alone in the quest for the bathroom, there is a general milling around the 3 foot high barricade and signage with mumblings of varied desperations and concerns. I returned to the sale aisle to basket my purchases, and become determined to absorb my bladder contents. Mr. Man  also bumps into  the barricade,  finding need of the men's room. He reports back to me that the store is closing in 7 minutes and it's doubtful the barricade to the restrooms will be removed. There's no time to make my purchase and use the restroom. I double up the reabsorption process. Where has Mr. Man gone?  We need to check out and get home ASAP. He's getting good at the disappearing act.

  I believe he led the whoop and leaps over the barricade. It began with him and then another and then another, channeling their inner track  star and become hurdlers with a mission. Crying children are held up in the face of the store manager so the barricade will be slid aside and allow the people access to the restrooms. The managers' grim faces decide to remove it before somebody jumps over and falls, causing extensive paper work and delay in closing the store and going home!  Dang the agility of the desperate!
  Standing in line, determined to win my own bladder battle, Mr. Man reappears, smug and happy that he has led the barricade revolt and gained access to the Men's room, which is also doubling as a women's room.  "The barricade is now removed". Too late for me. I've made my choice and I'm not leaving without my super deals.
 . The store shuts off its lights, locks it doors and firmly pushes us to exit--- permanently.
  In the car, Mr. Man suggests that we go to a concert in the park, 5 miles in the opposite direction of home. Now that he has taken care of his  "business" he's feeling generous to extend the date into a late evening.  MY teeth are floating. I'm doubtful I can even make it to the house. A concert? Forget it!
Made it home just in time. Which just proves. . .  there is no place like home!

Kiddie day at the Lazy Dog Cafe

It was Kiddie day at the Lazy Dog Café!

We were there on a Sunday for Linner. . . late lunch/early dinner. As we entered, the place is busy but not too crowded and we're seated right away. Walking to our table, we pass a group just packing up to leave. A young mother , her friend and a waitress are crawling under the grouping of tables, attempting to wrangle the escaped infant out into the open for capture. The baby is chortling in delight, and enjoying its freedom until it was distracted by a french-frie  on the floor.

As soon as we're seated, Mr. Man excuses himself to wash his hands. When he gets back he comments that there is a  child playing  dead on the floor across the aisle. He had to step over him and assured the mother he would not stomp on the kid. Here's a thought. . . . maybe restrain your childs movements to the table area. I head to the restroom to wash my hands and sure enough, there is the kid, rolling back and forth on the floor, and kicking at his chair in defiance. Hard not to laugh at this display because he's trying to roll toward the door inconspicuously and hasn't found the escape route yet.

We are thoroughly enjoying our linner and in comes a family of four which includes mom, dad, baby and preschooler and sit next to us.  Obviously, it is past nap time, dinner time, happy time. The crying and kicking began immediately. Mom and Dad are bickering about who's turn it is to time out with the preschooler. Mom wins, pulling out the "get out of jail free card" by breast feeding the baby.

Dad takes kicker/screamer to the foyer where the kids fury is echoed in the vaulted ceiling.




Don't misunderstand me. I love children. I delight in them. I've HAD them and been there, done that! We just stopped going out to dinner with ours when they got to the terrible two's and three's . It wasn't fun for any of us. I sympathize with these parents. They're not sure of what to do with the child out of control. You can't beat them or gag them = jail time. Hoping a hole opens up and swallows you all in is not going to happen and the magical fairy dust to calm them down and act civilized just doesn't exist.






The children were our topic of conversation and a walk down memory lane. The screaming from the foyer didn't really bother me. Crying in frustration and temper tantrums seem to be the calling card of most little ones forced into sitting quietly and acting as if they were adults in public places.


It was a happy ending for all .




The mom of the screamer finally feels bad and orders dad a big gin and tonic. She takes it out to him in the lobby then returns to the table to start eating. I applaude dads steadfastness. He isn't giving in to the tantrum and they are sitting there until it stops and quiet is achieved and the screaming has already dwindled to an occasional sob with gulp.
The rolling chair kicker was given an entire curved booth to roll around in as long as he stayed off of the floor and stopped kicking.

The crawl away infant was caught, restrained by mommy and never had the chance to eat that floor frie.

Mr. Man and I enjoyed our schnitzel  and slaw, and the Lazy Dog Café still ranks high for our restaurant favorites.

"What's in your closet?"

I have a walk in closet.

Technically, aren't ALL closets walk in? You open the door and you could go in there and sit a spell. Isn't that where the monsters live or where the secret door to Narnia is located?

Mine is small by todays standards. 6 feet by 6 feet lined by shelving and two full wardrobe bars. In colonial days this would have been considered a pretty nice bedroom. In comparison to most of my friends living in more updated and modern homes built after 1990,  it's mini. I just visited my friends closet, where there were three levels of hanging bars , built in dressers, shoe case , enormous staging island in the center of the closet and a full length mirror with a chair beside it to sit down and contemplate what outfit to wear with which shoes. I guess you'd say it was a "fantasy closet" except she lives just up the road from me and I had no idea this beauty of a wardrobe was hiding in the back of the master bedroom. It has more square footage in it than my master bedroom and bath combined. But lets get back to mine and leave the fantasy closet.

My closet  holds a lot.

Unfortunately, most of it isn't clothing. The closet also serves as a catch all, hide all and storage unit for books, games, luggage, hiking and camping gear, Christmas decorations, old school projects, hats, puzzles , umbrellas, work gear and trophy display ( to remind us of our glory days as pseudo athletes and performers.)

The closet gets cleaned out every 3-4 years. . . . okay, 5 to 6 years.

It got to the point of total disarray and disservice when we could no longer open the closet door and step in to reach our clothes without climbing over the junk and balancing on various shoes. We got an extendable  grabber so we could get to the stuff on the top shelf and reach the clothes in the corner. Sadly, they never made their way back and got stuffed into the closet. Yes, I am a mess. There is no Hazel or Alice, or any kind of valet service here. It's a one woman show and it ain't pretty!

When it got to the point that the closet door would no longer shut and hide our mess, we decided it was time to purge. The closet was literally vomiting its contents out the door and no shoving, shoveling or shifting would change it.

First out were the shoes. An easy task for Mr. Man. Keep half, throw the rest away. He whittled his shoe count down to 10 pair.

Not so easy for Big Foot. I keep every shoe I can stick on my feet because of the fear of not being able to find another pair. Granted, most of my shoes were of the flip flop category. I dumped out my shoe basket, brought down all the shoe boxes where I kept only the best shoes and did an over all survey. My wardrobe of the last 30 years could have been recreated from my finds. Tough to get rid of those KEDS that fit but hurt and now have rotted from being twisted and crushed at the bottom. Gone are the $100 velveteen heels worn 2 hours and removed after the toes started to hemorrhage and I left the formal affair barefooted and carried the shoes home to be boxed safely amongst the lost and forgotten.

The short story is we got rid of 31 pairs of shoes and sandals.

10 pair were thrown in the trash- Horrified that they were even living in my house and even more horrible that we thought we would wear them again. They should have been picked up by Hazmat !

Shoes out of the way, the clothing weeding began. Still waiting to fit back into my disco outfit from 1977 and the cowboy outfit from my western days of 1983!

I purchased organizers for my various accessories. . . . my 4 necklaces, 2 belts and 5 hats. (not a fashion maven. . . you should have picked up on that from the disco-western reference)

The most amazing find was the basket of socks buried in the darkest depths, which make up the lonely sock club. Not one has a match. There are 50 singles. How can that be? I'm contemplating braiding them into a 50 yard rope but I live in a single story so really no need for that! Crafts abound for old sock use but certainly I don't need 50 of anything! No need to hang on to those singles of toddler socks any more now that the toddler is 30 years old!

I have 12 sweaters all worn 2 times and in all shades of black and blacker. Its never cold enough here to wear them. WHY do I have so many????   Parted with 4 from 1997-2005 era and ditched the maxi skirt I thought was so stylin'  but in fact incredibly ugly and not one friend said anything in warning! It looks ugly on the hanger and horror of horrors I wore it in public!

Now that the closet is cleaned out, reorganized, dusted and mopped, I feel accomplished! Isn't that always the way?

I've etched on the door frame the month and year this clean out occurred. . . . maybe it will guilt me into doing this every year.

How many shoes are in YOUR closet?  Take them out and count. It will shock you.
I still have a lot of purging and sorting to do but feel that it's an ongoing process.

Good luck with your purge and clean out. Just do it.

"Do you know Jalama?"

 

I have returned from a long camping vacation at the sea shore . It is one of my favorite places on the planet. But Why?

There is no internet service, cell phone service, shopping or amenities. It boasts 8 showers that gives you warm water for 2 minutes for  a quarter. The cold water for the 1 minute warm up included.. There is a small camp store that sells overpriced groceries and miscellaneous camping necessities, clothing , beverages of anything conceivable, and has a tiny short order kitchen selling a variety of fried foods and a famously delicious burger worth every penny.

It's 17 curvaceous miles from a main road, which can be difficult to drive for the car sick and faint of heart.

It's 22 miles from the nearest town of Lompoc, a predominately military town that is famous for it's flower fields in spring and the sleepy La Purisma Mission.

There is electricity only. No water or sewer hookups. Water rationing and black/grey tank management are essential if you stay for a number of days.

My trailer is parked 300 to 400 yards from the ocean by choice. It could be ocean front and on the sand, 100 yards from the water, but that is just too sandy and windy.

It's not the prettiest beach I've been to. The water is generally too cold to swim in without a wet suit, and there are strong rip tides and undertows waiting to drag you out to the oil rigs miles out in the distance. The sand is coarse. It is usually windy here and getting a sandblast to the face is your reward for sitting on the barren beach. There is a lifeguard on duty on the weekends, only until labor day, but usually no one to save from the rough ocean because few people venture out into the water past their ankles due to rapidly frozen toes. Any other day during the fall and winter weeks, you're on your own. (Hopefully you read the signage posted at every entry point  on how to save yourself if you are swept away. )

If you're lucky, you can escape the beach without the naturally occurring tar coming ashore sticking to your feet or shoes. (never go here without Googone!), or if you're into canoe making, collect it to seal your craft like the Chumash Indians did.

So what makes this the favorite place to camp beachfront in California for so many people? If you ask any one, "Do you know Jalama?" the people who do know it always say, "It's wonderful there!"

It's the beach where my children  long to go to. It's where they were allowed to roam freely and be independent while being safely gated by the beach camp itself.

They did their first ocean fishing here.

The dolphins, sea lions and sea otters frolic here and swim along the shore line to follow you. The whales can be seen migrating off the coast here.

We saw our first meteor that turned the night sky blue-purple -red - orange .
The nearby air force base flew practice runs of its Stealth fighter along the beach here. So close, that we could see the pilot.

It's the place we choose to spend precious vacation days at. It's one of the few places I know of that my beloved Captain Morgan can run freely, as far as you can see and not run into another person or dog. You feel as though you are the only one on the planet and can almost reach out and touch God.

I can sing out of pitch as loudly and as often as I want. I can scream, run, dance, frolic, all without judging eyes or  within ear shot of a living soul.

Our best camping memories are of Jalama. Relaxing, uninterrupted days, doing whatever I want, sleeping as much as I want, reading all day , painting, you name it. The days go by quickly.

I don't even have to cook if I choose to wander down to the Jalama store and buy a meal. (it just has to be before 6:30 pm).

Every person you talk to has another favorite story and experience.

We've seen strange and unusual people here. Had our longest laughs here and made lifetime memories. It's the home of Jalama Llama's, the Jalama dumpster fire, the BBQ flank steak disaster, the night the high winds encased our friends in a tent collapse and looked like sausage links, the great motor home BANG! and blow out.  The duct taped tent repair in hurricane force winds", The medical evac of a fallen skateboarder. Then, there's the weird camp neighbors named for their various background stories. . . "Bakersfield", "The Butcher", " The Obstetrician", "the Soon to be headless Drunk", "Jalami Salami", "Jalama Long Jugs",   "Sad and Alone", "Trunk full of dauchsunds", "California Bea", " Real Coke",

Many fine memories and many more to make in the coming years.

I encourage you to find your own little slice of heaven and revisit it as often as possible.

Journal your memories.

Here's to many more Jalama days on Jalama time!

Lost in IKEA

It's been a long time, years even, since we have visited an IKEA store.

There's something  inviting about the clean lines of the Sweeds, and touring the mini cube houses displayed there, and it's always nice to freshen up on my Sweedish now and then.

Our own home would have to be described as anything but modern or streamlined. I had an interior designer claim it was decorated in the Contemporary style. Perhaps this was a nice way of avoiding  saying it resembled "mid-century clutter" or "Hod-Podge Décor". All the same, visiting the Swiss store gives hope for some sort of mess management and clean living.
 

I have friends who make the IKEA trek yearly, spending an afternoon there, having lunch, enjoying Swedish meatballs and fish. Sorry. Passing on that experience, hating both, and throw in the tasteless cookies along with it. I'll just fill up on cheese and the cardboard like crackers.

As we drove into the parking lot of the Costa Mesa IKEA, we wondered if there was some sort of event occurring as there was no parking in the Disneyland sized parking lot. This just made us all the more determined to fight our way into the store to see what bargains we might be missing out on, and secured a parking spot only a block away from the entrance. We exited the car and followed the legions of people into the store. I picked up a stray cart on the way in to use as handbag carrier and walker. That was mistake 1.

There didn't seem to be a clear entrance into the store, and the elevator up didn't seem large enough for my enormous cart, so we made our way to the other end only to discover this was parcel pick up and no show room access. Back to the other end of the store and decide to cut through the check out ...Mistake 2.

We wander around these aisles for awhile, wondering where all the housewares and junk are?  Continuing our progress toward the expansive ground floor, we find our way going against the people flow until we finally find our way into the show rooms with the "good stuff". Mistake 3.

The place is packed. Obviously, this IS the event for families to visit IKEA on a Saturday afternoon. There are hundreds of people here, all pushing along various types of carts and bags. We are trying to find where the entrance to this place is. Obviously we have come the back way, continuing our meandering through the crowd and following the many exit arrows that indicate store flow, but doing it backwards.  Mistake 4.

We kept seeing stuff that we liked but passed on because we were determined to find the beginning and follow the arrows like we were supposed to. Mr. Man picks up a plastic squirt bottle and tosses it into the giant cart I'm clinging to and we continue our backward search. Tough shopping against the flow of the people. Yes, we received many disdainful looks, but our determination to find the beginning buoyed after hearing a couple other shoppers ask sales people where the exit was or how to get out?  (Pride kept us from asking where the entrance was) Mistake 5.

Mr. Man suggests we start marking knotches in furniture so we'll know if we came this way before. After more than 30 minutes of this upstream fight, we find an area full of shopping carts like I have. A helpful lady asks if we would like one. "NO!" I abandon my cart, and the spray bottle and we progress up to a second floor where we find the beginning of this massive place.

Thankfully the restaurant, rest rooms and more baskets reside here. We have arrived. Reset the mind to start again after taking a break . NOW we are doing it right. As we make the show room rounds, admiring how streamlined and clean every thing looks, we decide this is never going to be us. The aisles are like the 91 freeway, and clog to full stop. Screaming children demanding stuffed monkeys and plastic colorful cups. I'm ready to call it a day.  Exiting,  following the arrows.

 

Passing up all the glass ware, bedding, pillows that appear flat before they're ever used and furniture that requires assembly.  We pass a knotched  wall divider. Mr. Man claims we've been here before, yet it doesn't look familiar from this direction. Pushing our way downstream, we finally get the store flow. Oh, and there's a map of how to find stuff......at the beginning! THAT would have been a useful little pamphlet. 

Seeing the exit light ahead, we get to the cashiers. About 50 of them processing hundreds of people pushing giant cart loads of everything. IKEA doesn't have bags. You have to purchase them. No problem . We don't need a bag. That spray bottle fits just fine in my left hand!

Total time in IKEA- 1 hour , 20 minutes.
Time spent lost- 30 minutes.
Total amount purchase- $.99
Time of planned return- 3 years, or until I learn to like fish paste. . . (smorgaskaviar) 

Note to self. ......... re-read this BLOG!

A little stroll through the south.

I have just returned from a little trip to the south. Starting in Virginia, we drove down to Charleston, SC , then to Savannah, Georgia and ended up in Pensacola, Florida.  The trip was to incorporate as many new sites  as we could during the recent naval relocation of my flying sea monkey.

We took the poor man's tour in Charleston and acquired a AAA travel book with a detailed walking route outlined in it. We found parking easily and only 2 blocks from where the tour began. The book was handy with its detailed information about the historic significance of the buildings and the various sights. It was a pleasant adventure, and one we could share with my grand-dog. After hour 2, the heat became stifling and we were out of water. Only 95 degrees. No biggie. We stopped in a memorial park and sat in the shade, but the panting just got worse. Luckily, the Charleston Historic Preservation Society was across the street. The ladies there welcomed us into the very nice store, giving us water, snack, and restroom access. The place was air conditioned to 68 degrees. A delightful place. I stopped panting. . . .and so did the dog. I credit them for saving me from heat stroke. We weren't really on a time schedule, but needed to be in Savannah before dark so we could find our way. 

On the road from Charleston to Savannah, I began counting the number of exploded tires left along the roadside. Some were intact, some were shredded tread. To be sure, there is some problem with tires and southern road touring. From Charleston to Savannah, I counted 107 "dead tires". Unbelievable luck of the motorists to lose a tire out there in the middle of the freeway in the heat of the day! I began to worry about the state of our tires and we became determined not to be numbered amongst the dead tire count!

Arriving in Savannah was like driving up to a movie set. The trees dripping with the Spanish moss, the steamy streets and the smell of the grasses. The many homes with wrought iron gates and balconies were beautiful. We had a bucket list of things to see and do here and only 1 1/2 days to do it all. We got started right off the bat and drove through all the historic districts, narrated by the AAA tour guide book, and found ourselves eating dinner at Leopold's ice cream parlor. Who doesn't love ice cream for dinner? Totally worth the wait. The line went out the door and to the corner  , but it went fast. We tasted 6 flavors and settled on 2.

We took a paid guided walking tour with Savannah Dan. He is a native to Savannah and grew up with a passion for the city's history. We did a 2 hour walking tour around 4 of the town squares, hearing the in depth history about the residents who walked these same streets in the 1700's.

 

During one of the stops for a lecture, a young lady fell flat on her face, overcome by the heat of the day. My brain switched to nurse mode, but not as fast as the sea monkey's. She thrust her tote bag, back pack, camera, and dog into my arms and ran over to the fallen girl. Proud of her as she acted as a first responder, and seeing that the girl was pale but breathing, I stayed back with the bags and the barking dog. Sea Monkey got the pleasure of removing the chewing gum out of the girls mouth and checking for pulse. Cool cloths were applied to her head and neck as her parents, who had been walking around with her, removed frozen water bottles from their packs and strategically placed them on their fallen daughter. 9-1-1 was called, and Savannah Dan continued his lecture, admonishing us to  drink water and wear a hat.

The group of us stood there and enjoyed a liter of water each before continuing.

My Sea Monkey was put out because I didn't beat her to the dropped girl . I explained that somebody filled my arms with bags, cameras and barking pets, so I would get the "next one".

I think we covered Savannah well for the amount of time we had. Surely there was more to see and do, however the heat of the afternoon was prohibitive. Definitely enjoyed the tour of the Juliette Gordon Lowe house, founder of the Girl Scouts. So many years of our life were spent supporting and acting as Scouts.

Our trips end to Pensacola, Florida was uneventful except for the 96 degrees weather accompanied by torrential downpour bordering on hurricane force.



Definitely will be heading to the south again. We were told a week after our visit that our Charleston walk was on the hottest recorded day so far. So now I can claim I survived and didn't have heat stroke.  The people were lovely and friendly. I surely wished we had been able to be there in the Fall or spring when its cooler.

So IF you go, wear your hat, drink lots of water and try to seek out the shade from the many trees lining the streets. And really absorb some of that southern food and southern charm.

Deal of the Day!

The neighbors had a garage sale day. 3 of them. I hate to have the sale, but love to look around at them. You never know what you'll find.

As I looked down the block, I thought it would be a good opportunity to meet and greet on a first name basis these neighbors who have only been driving by and waving. . . always pleasantly. They are at the end of my block so I don't usually have a reason to venture there on foot.

Meeting them was so nice! We talked for 2 hours. None of them had met face to face before either , and it was happenstance that their sales were on the same day.

I spotted something wonderful at each of their sales, focusing on mid-century furniture in fair shape. One had a super heavy, solid birch dresser in need of refinishing and TLC. I don't really need another dresser but when she told me $10, who could pass? (Large mirror included).

I was really interested in her buffet piece, but it was too large for me to put in my house, and much too big to store in the garage which is already too full for comfort. I thought the buffet price was $200. The other neighbor had a smaller one in better condition for $250.  I bought the dresser and started texting potential co -owners. It was decided to go get the buffet and miraculous things could be done with it.

Excited to get a second largish piece of furniture, I walked back to the sale with cash. Getting ready to hand it over when the neighbor selling her own buffet pulled two drawers out of the piece and walked home with them. The seller said, "Oh, I thought you didn't want it and she decided she liked it better than the one she was selling herself so I sold it to her. " Ugh! Well, my own fault for not having cash in hand or reading the price tag correctly . . . the buffet sold for $20 not $200! Yee Gads!

Mr. Man was having a  fit telling me no furniture was going into HIS garage and something about asking him "permission" before buying anything larger than a shoe box. (cute that he thinks that I need to ask him first. I'll let him live with that delusional thought for a bit).

At first, he refused to be a part of  bearing  the dresser home.

Shrugged my shoulders and said I would do it with the men at the sale who already offered help.
"There is absolutely no room in the garage for it! No! "

Again, shrugged my shoulders and said it could sit outside on the patio and age a bit which would give it more character.

I pointed out that the dresser was solid, not veneered and constructed very well.  Repainted and cleaned up, it would be a great piece of furniture for the price of $10, adding that his eldest daughter was currently using her baby dresser with 3 drawers instead of a full sized one with 6 and most of her clothing is kept in piles surrounding the aforementioned baby unit. Wouldn't it be nice to give her something FULL sized and nice?

Reassurance that the buffet was lost to me, and would not be joining our garage collection, I walked down the block to retrieve my prize and Mr. Man followed, growling the entire way .

As we got to the sale, the other neighborhood men had gathered to tote their various pieces home and Mr. Man was handed a beer and welcomed into their lament club! He got a tour of the sellers recently redone flooring and kitchen remodel, met 4 new people and was actually cheerful as he was helped home with my new dresser!

All in all, not a bad day and we both benefited from it.

I don't even mind too much I lost the buffet to one of my other neighbors. If I'd gotten both pieces of furniture,  Mr. Man may have lost an entire gasket and start contemplating a serious crime upon my person!

Thank you neighbor. It was the best!

Eagle eyed for the next DEAL OF THE DAY! I'll be bringing the cash and wearing the glasses!

"BEETLEMANIA"

              

This is the summer that I have been terrorized by the Japanese beetle. . . you know. Those giant green and yellow beetles that have shells of rock, vary in colors of beautiful green and  serve no genuine purpose other than to scare the bejeebers out of those of us with bug phobias, and eat every flower and plant in its path.

Last summer I wrote about friends running widly into their car, burning rubber and driving madly away leaving me to fight off the Beetle alone. (still harboring feelings of abandonment Mrs. C!) Truly, I know it isn't going to eat me alive and cause me harm, but I assume it could change it's eating habits at any time and start craving blondes. All the same, it strikes terror into my soul and I switch to kill and bludgeon mode to keep the things off of me.

Yes. I've heard all about how saintly this beetle is. How beautiful it can be. How striking it is when flying and as big as a small hummingbird but much louder. . . . and yes, I have heard the stories about tying strings to its leg and using it as a kite, a parade balloon, riding along with it on your bike, etc.

This doesn't change my opinion of the bug.

The horrid things have turned my Crepe Myrtle tree into a beetle metropolis and the Ficus trees lining my back wall as the new nation of Japan.

I was looking into ways to obliterate the beetle easily and cheaply. I also don't want to coat my yard in pesticides as it hopefully is a haven and habitat for honey bees, butterflies and hummingbirds.

Turning to the reference of the mighty Internet, I have discovered the easiest way is to mix a solution of dishwashing liquid and spray it on the lawn in the spring to force the beetle grubs to the surface and become bird food. Too late for that one.

But get this. The most reliable, cost effective and easiest method to remove these beetles is to HAND PICK them off the trees and plants. I bloody don't think so! If I can't bear to have them buzz bombing me, I certainly am NOT going to touch them!~!!

So - I have been finding dozens of these beetles floating around in my pool every day, clinging to leaves and debris, pool floaters and sweeper hoses. They have spikey legs and are tough to make let go of a net. Because they tend to swarm towards me, and attack, I carry a skimmer net with me in the pool, using its handle as a bat and net to remove bodies, and refuse to get into the pool if any beetle remains floating around. After I get a nice grouping of the damn things, I throw them into the bucket of soapy water and abandon my net. Mr. Man's job is to rid us of their carcasses and empty the pool skimmer of them daily.

As I'm enjoying pool life and sunshine with friends, the beetles dive bomb me, and every one tells me they won't hurt me; however, they're screaming and running/swimming in each direction. One got caught in my hair. . . my worse nightmare, and wouldn't get off- no help from my "friends" poolside. Extracted myself apart from the beetle and began using my pool net as the Sword of Shannara, hacking at them and determined to beat them into a pulp. Somebody suggested I had anger issues, however, the "Somebody" had secured a safe spot to observe and be protected from beetle bombings far from the pool.

As we sat around the table eating al-fresco, a horrid beetle hit me in the back of the head, then proceeded to get its legs stuck on my tank top strap. Unable to flick it off myself and feeling it scratching to get uncaught, I plead for help from my table mates only to watch their mouths gape open screaming that it's on me, one choking on carrot bits, but no assist coming from them! Thankfully, Mr. Man rescued me, flicking the beetle off, bludgeoning it to death and telling me again, it is nothing. . . . only to see him scurry away from the secondary attack of beetle bombing on his way to the trash cans!

I would post a photo of the beetle here but can't bring myself to mar my blog post with it. After the recent traumas, I'm not watching the movie " Beetlejuice" again or listening to any BEATLES albums.

If you want to participate in a BEATLE MANIA, come on over. Not a fan but I scream like one!

Just keep swimming

My blogs took a little vacation so I could gain focus on my health and well being.

As I have declared many times in the past, I vow to make this the summer of change!

Physically, mentally, spiritually.

Reflecting back on the many fails in all these areas only convinces me that this has to be it. 2016. I may die trying but try I must! Failure is not an option. I have seen the light. My ego has taken its last swipe and downfall. I will plod along alone if necessary but I will plod. . .  while dragging weights behind me.

It's always better to have an exercise partner to keep you on the path of thinner and better and also to keep your whining and failures in check. Also, somebody to be accountable to for your time and days spent working out and continue to be faithful to the exercise regime.  I've seen and tried almost every workout there is and am repulsed at going to a gym and having to see my reflection in a mirror dripping sweat, gritting teeth and grunting to no one in general. Having a private trainer was a dismal fail and only making one of us better themselves and gain financial freedom. I don't respond well to shouting, bullying, fake encouragement or "give me 5 more".

I know what needs to be done. I did this to myself. I put bite after bite of mostly delicious food into my mouth and swallowed. I hate to sweat and due to a jacked up knee with no cartilage left in it, I can no longer walk long distances or use stairs. My 4 mile walks are but a memory now and so is any muscle mass accumulated during that period of my life.

There are no longer excuses that I have to be at work, volunteering or cleaning out the closets to be used to avoid the morning workout. Here I am. It is time. I've taken to a pool swim every morning before the sun is fully up and begin the 1 hour workout followed by the laps. At least there is no sweating and there is a time crunch to be fit and sleek due to water cooling as the fall approaches.
Even better, there is absolutely no judgment or comment about swim gear, forgotten hair trimmings and obvious lack of hair grooming on my part. Any one who wants to join us must adhere to these simple rules. . . . and bring their own towel.

My water buddy and workout companion is in the same boat as me but has the advantage of youth. She too is highly motivated and inspirational. We embarked upon our weight loss adventure on a whim and have kept it up for a month now. I love her so much because she reminds me that "We are HOT! We work out! We are going to be Accawesome! Our Earthly bodies will be almost as good as our heavenly ones!"

She's also not opposed to shouting and spouting obvious sentiments to God above . . . .   i.e.- "These kicks are the DEVIL!    Lord! Help me DO this! " Yup. We never forget to thank God that we are even able to have the option to exercise as choice and that every single day is a blessing. Praying through the tough parts is part of the day too. Sometimes, I think its the only thing keeping me afloat.

As I struggled to complete the last pull up on the board , I kicked my feet for extra boost power and was empowered after the success. . . although I was certain a stroke would overtake me at any moment. Definitely saw a flash of light and dizziness .

I keep feeling my carotid for any irregular heartbeats because with all the panting and grunting going on, it seems inevitable that the heart will just give up and take a permanent vacation. Week 4 and we are still good. We are getting better so we add more sets and weights. The heart rates have to be kept up so we switch up the routine to do it.

Am I ever going to be skinny??? Never.
Am I ever going to wear a 2 piece again? Nope
When I strut down the street, are heads going to turn? Doubt it.
But it's all okay. I am going to be okay with it. I'm not doing any of this for any one but myself. I don't need affirmation or congratulations from a soul. It's all me and for me.
Only 100 lb. more to go.
Only 20 more pounds to go before I can eat a chocolate cake and gallon of milk for my first tier reward!
Come find Nemo with me. BE the Dory! "Just keep swimming.......just keep swimming"
I'm out at the pool and the water is just fine!

Welcome summer.

First Official day of summer hit us southern Californians hard!

News channels warning us of  record heat and to prepare for a lot of it!

Our first official day of summer was hot. Keep in mind it's supposed to be hot here. We live in a desert valley and experiencing a 7 year water drought. Shockingly, it has never been THIS hot this early into the summer. August is our hot month. NOT mid June!

Hotter than Hades.

Hell on earth.

Man, is it hot!

Melt the CD's in your car hot.

Worse day for the car to break down on the freeway hot.

Shoes stuck to the asphalt hot.

Out of control fires surrounding us hot.

Sweating while you're swimming hot.

We all spent the day texting the photos of our digital thermometers, doing it multiple times as the thermometer kept going up and up. "Look at mine. It's 110degrees in the shade!" , "Now it's 114 poolside, and 118 in the full sun. 120 on our pavers." This went on between friends and relatives throughout the state to compare. Demoralizing to see it was only 68 degrees in the northern coastal towns at 4 pm compared to our 116 degrees at the same time.

We put on our fire retardant gear and boots just to get to the pool water without incinerating or suffering spontaneous combustion. (I don't want to be one of those poor people who burnt up sitting on their couch watching TV and the only thing left of me is my lower legs!).

Friends from Palm Springs came to Corona to escape the heat. Dismaying to them..... 122 degrees in Palm Springs Ca. and 114-118 in Corona. Barely noticeable. Once it gets over 110, it all feels about the same. Guess what that is??? HOT!

Heat is expected here. Not this melt on your way to the car heat. Forget walking anywhere or you may pass out. No shade trees available in this town along frequented roads. The city removed them as water conservation measures 2 years ago. I am very thankful for having a swimming pool I can afford to keep full of water. Floating in it at 8pm was delightful, even if the water temperature was 82! (that's with sun on the water surface only heat). I've enjoyed some of my best meals eating in the pool.

Today, the weatherman says we are in for a cooling trend for a week .  So mild and relaxing. Barely noticeable. It's only 100 degrees today. Yay! Now it's just HOT, not HOT HOT.

-Drink lots of water.

-Keep your pets in shade with cool water.

-Save your pet rabbits. Bring them inside.

-Do not leave the house without footwear or your feet will fry on the sidewalk.

-Check your garden. Anything that was green and starting to ripen yesterday is ripe and needs to be eaten today,

-Do not leave anything in your car that you care about. This would include pets, children, or groceries.

-And what I have said a million times to every mother with an infant. . . . If you are hot in shorts and a shirt, then your baby will be too - DO NOT wrap that kid up in a blanket when its this hot! In fact, don't even make the baby go outside and have to be packed into a hot car seat or stroller.

If you are coming to California to go to Disneyland, prepare yourselves for the hottest adventure of your lives. . . . . guess what? ITS HOT THERE! WATER COSTS $4 a bottle. wear a hat and sunblock. Leave your small children at home or in a cool hotel room with a nanny!

Welcome summer. I guess it's gonna be HOT!    Now go and drink a big glass of cold water!
                                                      

"Oh hun, you've been dirtied. . . "

Having recently traveled by plane already this year, I have to congratulate myself for being such a calm traveler, despite my traumatic experiences at airports. Although internally, I am a knot of anxiety, outwardly I am calm. The picture of serenity.

Local Television news has nightly warnings about airline travel for the remainder of the year. . . . . and probably forever!. . . that security lines will be long and timely. What's new?  I don't think I've ever cruised through a TSA line in under 1 hour and now that its 2 hours plus long, well, I guess you'd better go to the bathroom, eat lunch and hydrate just before getting into the line. Once you're in it you're  committed!

Each time I'm getting ready to fly, I relive each bad experience and pray that I'm done with them and can fly in peace. Actually, only three of my nightmares happened on the plane, and the rest during pre-boarding and TSA lines. (This is when I could use a handful of anti anxiety meds.)

Very, very, fortunately, I have never been in a crash landing or in a hostile situation.

Preparing for more air travel in the coming months, I try to think positively about how to avoid airport problems. Some just are not preventable. Example. . . . .

I run to the restroom just before boarding the plane. I've got 5 minutes, tops. The plane has begun to board.

 In the bathroom stall next to me, a girl is vomiting and wretching. Poor thing. Hope she is done with her trip and send her sympathetic thoughts.

 I open my stall door and the girl is just coming out, turns around to return to the toilet, but vomits all over my feet and floor. Of course, I'm wearing sandals. I am dumbfounded.  I hear my plane is closing its doors imminently. Last call.  Running out of time! The bathroom attendant is right there STAT with a mop.

 She says,  "Oh, hun. You been dirtied! Let me help you with that."

 Grateful and thinking something the opposite from what happened next, she takes her floor mop, dunks it in the nasty bucket water used to mop up unmentionable nastiness, and proceeds to mop my feet. I am stunned. The horror of this ultimate contamination is inconceivable! Gagging, I push her away, and stumble to the sinks to wash my feet but I'm now hearing "doors closing, last call" for my plane.

 No time for a foot bath or shoe sanitization. I spot the paper towel dispenser and start waving my hands in front of it until I have a 5 foot strip. Run out of the bathroom for my flight trailing the paper towel like a white banner behind me.

Mr.Man hadn't boarded the plane without me but was seriously pacing as I ran up to the gate. We find our seats, buckle in and I remove my sandals to begin the cleanup process. Mr. Man shakes his head at me and says, "Why does this stuff always happen to you?"

Heck! I don't know, but the only solution is to amputate my feet, burn the shoes and hyperventilate. None of these options were viable so I cleaned up using my $4 bottle of water and my flimsy paper towel banner. I asked the flight attendant for a case of Handi-wipes, then fretted about the germs crawling up my legs  and soaking into my skin. 

Obviously, I survived . This wasn't my first vomit encounter on  feet, ( I am a pediatric nurse for cryin' out loud), but before I had actual shoes and socks on, with access to a shower and clean clothes! I tried my best to keep my toes spread apart so they wouldn't touch the others until my feet cramped up.  A nice foot bath would have been nice. Do they offer those in first class?

Oh the woes of travel. These little side adventures just keep it quirky and fun, right?  Now I carry extra shoes, baby wipes and hand sanitizer in my carry on. The sandals were tossed in the trash as soon as I accessed my second pair . I kept the feet.

Use this as a cautionary tale.  Get to the airport early. A whole lot early.

You never know what will happen before your seated on the plane.

 

No Exit

As usual, I have my most interesting adventures when I'm at the home improvement stores or at the market.

This day, I decide to shop high brow Organic Food store. I keep getting stuck behind a little Asian gal who pinches and smells all of the produce and pokes her finger into the rows of free range chickens on sale today. Not sure what good this does, but I follow her lead and poke mine too - Yup! It's dead.

I'm in a hurry today so I'm trying to avoid this gal and grab my stuff  around her. This is easy because she is so little and cute, but she is every where I need to be.

At the check out, I'm bagging all my choices into my canvas bags. Complimenting myself for remembering them in the first place and bringing the one with the stores happy logo on the front! How eco friendly of me!

Heading out the electric sliding store doors, I am blocked. My little shopping partner beat me out of the checkout stand. She is blocking the doors as she squats, surrounds herself with her many bags, and takes a cell phone call. She is having a full on conversation and doesn't seem to mind her imposition on others.There's no room to maneuver a cart out around her or walk around the barricade of bags.

There begins to be a backup of shoppers wanting to leave and also those who want to get inside. I wait a minute, trying to be patient, but this girl has slowed me up since I entered this store and I've tried to avoid her. Her tiny frame and dozens of canvas bags might as well be the Hulks and is now my prison. No exit here.

Looking around at the other people trying to get out and pleas of "excuse me",  "pardon me", "could you move aside?", all ignored by the squatting cell phone talker. It's time to make my move for freedom and escape. I jumped over a couple of bags and scooted the last one out of my way with my foot. Wow! Did I get a verbal lashing in a dialect that only meant "how dare you , you bitch!".  As she resumed a standing position still on her phone, her tirade continues but it really isn't taken seriously because she is speaking to my hip bone and every one behind her is now shoving her bags every which way so they can make their way out of the store.

There were quite a few retorts I had for the little menace chattering at me, but I could only think of one she might understand. Put my finger to my lips and said, "SHH!".

Escape successful. I put a card in the stores suggestion box for better store service.

"Dear store.... please post giant placard by exit that reads. . . DO NOT BLOCK EXIT
                                                                                           WITH PHONE SQUAT TALK