Fresh Start

When the day is ending it means you get a fresh start once again. It means that you can rest with the knowledge that you battled well and made it through and will have a fresh tomorrow to face the demons with more energy and new spirit. It means that somewhere, some spirit places a cool hand on your fevered brow and smiles gently at how brave you have been thus far. It means that morning light will bring clearer thoughts and renewed dreams. The morning light will clean the edges and you can sort the real from the false. You will see how far you have come on this journey and reward yourself with that thought. Sigh deeply and be thankful that your are loved by more than you know. (For everyone climbing that extra large mountain these days.)

That Look

Remember that look that your mother gave you when you had stepped out of line? Remember that look that said 'I am NOT going to wait until your father gets home, kiddo!' It is the look of the 'all-woman/all-mother.' It is the look of fearless strength and defense-to-the-death attitude that women keep deep in the essence of their being. It is the look that clearly sends the message, "Don't make me go there." Well, it looks as though my granddaughter is already beginning to master that look.


And, of course, as every good grandmother knows, the best toys do not come from 'Toys R Us' or any other toy store.

It's Just Another Day

After one of the more torrential thunderstorms had cleared a few weeks ago, we were rewarded with the view above from our dock. Actually, there were two rainbows both forming complete arcs across the end of the finger of the river. That more complete view was impossible to capture with my not-so-wide angled lens. Even capturing the colors of a rainbow, that mystical reflection of rays of light painting their way through the raindrop, is quite the challenge as this photo does not look as stunning as the real thing. It was sort of "you had to be there."

It never ceases to surprise me that rainbows create such a feeling of hope and euphoria in me. Maybe it is the electricity in the air that polarizes the brain cells; maybe it is the vastness of the arc that makes us appreciate that, tiny creatures that we are, we were saved from all the thunder and lightning; maybe it takes us back to the first time in our fresh youth when we saw our first rainbow. I don't know, but it sure does ring my chimes.

(This should probably be posted on 'my other blog' but I already have a line-up of pre-scheduled posts with some other photos waiting there! I am spending most of my time in the "room without walls" these days.)

Friko's Meme

Friko tagged me for a meme a few days ago. I don't usually play along, but I have just gotten back from a funeral and am not yet in good blogging rhythm so decided to take her challenge. I wrote these answers shooting straight from the hip in about three minutes total. Only #11 and #15 caused me to pause and come back to them after some thought. If you are up to it or in blog stasis and need an idea I challenge you to play along.

1. If one song were to describe your life, what song would that be?
"She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain When She Comes." (In other words, eventually I will get where I am supposed to be, I hope.)
2. Which item of clothing do you wear most?
"Underpants" (Cute lacy things ;-))
3. When did you get up today?
6:30 AM---I actually slept in!
4. Last thing you bought?
Rose fertilizer
5. What are you listening to:
The Pink Martini (I saw them last week live.)
6. If you were a God/Goddess, who would you be?
Diana--she was the tough one.
7. Favourite holiday spot?
Some place that I have not yet traveled to. (Although if I never get to travel again I will say Bali.)
8. What are you reading right now?
A Thousand Splendid Suns
9. Favourite Film?
Out of Africa
10.First thing you do in Spring?
Smell the earth.
11.Funniest thing you saw in your life?
Well, I have answered all of the questions and come back to this and thought and thought. Something funny 'seen' usually means slapstick humor or a pratfall and I don't find those so funny anymore. I guess I haven't had a good belly laugh in quite a while and things I remember don't seem so funny anymore. (Now when we start playing a game of Ballderdash I sometimes laugh so hard I can wet my pants.)
12. Who is your hero/heroine?
Right now it is President Obama, but there have been many others before.
13. Share some wisdom?
Don't forget to breathe deeply as you start your day.
14. If you were a tree, what tree would you be?
A banyan...a big fat banyan.
15. Fictitious character/s who made a lasting impression on you?
Had to think for a while because most of those who impress me are real people, but I guess I will say Kermit the Frog and secondly Charlie Brown.
16. Four words to describe you?
Picky, happy, creative and curious. (Also fiercely loyal, but that makes a complex five.)
17. Why do you blog?
Why not? What else can I do with my words that, so far, gives me some complimentary feedback?

Greener Grass

We are back from the Tampa/St.Petersburg area in Florida. The tourist season is slow and the tourist beaches were not crowded. The daily to weekly rental places were busy, but the rental houses and condos were all empty.

We spent a Friday morning in St. Petersburg and were surprised to see the contrast in activity from our nearby city. The streets were quiet and parking was easy to find. Downtown Tampa was not much busier. Clearly the recession is here.

While we were happy to see many relatives from my husband's family we also were reminded about the difference in culture of the area. One of hubby's nephews is 55 and drives a florist truck for a living (his fourth career move) and another is living in subsidized housing at the age of 58 and has been drug and alcohol free finally for a year. Their children (adults) also seem to have no interest in anything other than hanging out while drifting from job to job.

The wife of one of the nephews brags that she has been a bartender at the same hotel bar for over 30 years. Several of the youngest are also divorced or working on their third marriage. None of this means they are terrible people. It is just a culture that my husband and I are not a part of. I do not denigrate this blue-color culture but the transient nature of the work means that no one really develops a skill...except for making drinks. It seems that the warmth and easy living of Florida does not encourage motivation to better oneself beyond a string of retail jobs. It was also a little bit of a surprise that the more successful members of the family did not cross the state to pay their respects.

You cannot pick your relatives and we all come from the same ancestral tree and they were all very polite.

This photo below is the famous Sunshine Bridge that crosses Tampa Bay. Many years ago a barge hit one of the supports to this bridge and it was shut down for some time.


Below is a photo I took in the park across the street from the art museum in the city. It turned out pretty balanced in composition and it actually might make a nice poster...no?

Florida temperatures were in the 90's and the days were very humid and we spent much time searching for shade...even at the beach. It is good to get back to the 70 degree weather here and to try and catch up on blog reading.

Just Passing Through

I hate the fact that I am entering that time in life where the goodbyes are more often of a permanent nature. Everyone has had to bravely pass through this season in their life. I just hate that it is now my turn.

I sit quietly here blogging early in the morning. We stole my 2-year-old granddaughter for a visit on Sunday and she is now sleeping blissfully in the Pac-N-Play in our big closet...it is the quietest and darkest place on the main floor of this house. Thinking of her gentle breathing, I see life as a broad spectrum this morning. She has so much adventure ahead of her while others are moving on leaving her room.

My husband lost his sister-in-law last week. We were not close, but she had just visited our new home last year and I was so happy to see her in even better health and sharper spirits than she had been a few years before. Two of her five children had brought her on this trip. They had made careful plans renting an RV and planning for the needed oxygen tanks and other necessary baggage. She felt energized by this chance to get out on a travel adventure, we could tell.

We leave Wednesday for the memorial service in Florida, so blogging will be in stasis for a while, except for the pre-scheduled entries on 'my other blog'.

Stuff

Dictionary.com has over 15 definitions for the word 'stuff'. Clearly we are lazy and use this word a lot. Not as much a f***, but almost, being the vocabulary deprived nation that we are.

On my recent visit to Nassau this store at least admits that it sells stuff by the lettering over the door.

Above is someone's precious stuff that was thrown out onto the street when they could not pay rent two years ago.

I have lots of non-precious stuff that should be thrown out. What is non-precious stuff? This stuff is that object that is so rare that it has remained in that dusty box at the back of the closet for years. Non-precious stuff is that very useful gizmoo that you have never used that sits in the darkest part of the kitchen drawer. Stuff is that gift you bought that you never gave away which now sits on the top shelf of your closet just waiting to be noticed once again. Stuff is that brand new hand-held appliance that costs too much to repair and would break your heart to toss away and so it sits on the garage shelf waiting for 'someday.' Stuff is that pair of shoes worn to a wedding that will never again see the light of day. Stuff are those 1,000 fishing lures carefully organized in that Tupperware container in the garage. And, if you are like me, your stuff comes with stuff. I am thinking of the 4 pieces of two-foot square 2 inch thick pure white packing Styrofoam boards that sit awaiting creative genius so that they can be made into some grandchild's project. Unfortunately, I think I packed the creative genius in one of the (unlabeled) cardboard boxes in the closet.

I know that when I die my children will take most of my precious and non-precious stuff and give it away or just toss it into some landfill. I stopped buying folk art years ago because I knew I had too much non-precious stuff. While this thought of tossing bothers my husband because he is tied tightly to his stuff, I am really comfortable in knowing that I will return to dust someday and it is all just stuff!

Lately, I have been (once again) feathering my nest by adding stuff. We recently purchased some hose racks to hang our garden hoses. We just purchased two gold fish and a red waterlily for that fountain we bought last year. I also purchased several trellis stands for around the house to use on all the annual vines I am attempting to grow this year. Hubby bought a sprayer for the liquid fertilizer. We also had to buy two new cushions for the canoe and a long cushion for the patio lounge. I then purchased several new flower pots for the new deck as it was looking awfully bare.

In a fit of organization we finally got around to buying some pieces of peg board and some furring strips to use in the garage so that we could actually find stuff when we needed it.

We bought two new bird feeder hangers because we buried the others so carefully under brick that we cannot move them. (We try to move the feeders once a year because of salmonella issues.) We also bought another bird house to discourage the blue bird from moving into that silly little blue house without the ventilation and drainage. We failed in that attempt, of course, and we now have a brand new empty birdhouse.

We had received a gift of a hammock net from our kids after our long-ago trip to Belize and I finally purchased a hammock frame that we will put together someday soon(!). I had moved one of the deck tables to the patio area so I had to purchase a new small table for the deck to replace it.

The problem with all this purchasing of stuff was that I promised myself when I moved into this house, that I would start a simpler lifestyle. No more stuff! I told myself it was now time in my life to be more zen, to be more accepting of bare space. (I had lived, quite happily I will add, for almost a year on 60 pounds of household goods delivered to my apartment overseas when was younger. Therefore, I know I do not need much stuff.) Having currently failed this promise to myself --- miserably, totally, agonizingly--- I promise this fall I am going through our large basement storage room and begin the process of getting rid of stuff! We have lived here almost two years and not used some of the STUFF down there at all. Who knows, maybe we have someone else's stuff mixed in with our stuff!

Next I will start on the kitchen where I have at least three of every single thing from all of my prior moves, including an entire set of cobalt blue goblets (14) that I have been unable to give away. (Pay the shipping and they are yours!)

Last I will start on the closets. When there are only two of you living in a house, you take over the empty closets...all of them and fill them with more important stuff. The kind of stuff that has to stay in boxes which are never opened, so you forget what is there.

Stuff will take over your life. It will become the pack leader in compiling your list of how you want to spend your time. I have found maintaining stuff consumes too much of my day already. Stuff, begone, I say!

This was my son's bedroom when we lived in the rental house years ago.
He was trying to create a sound studio in one corner...there is way too much stuff here.

Turtle School - Olde Style

I hereby declare today "Tabor's Blog Silly Day." I think my brain is slowly melting from the increasingly warmer weather and longer days. It seems that I can no longer form words with my fingers...q2m0mng, enowj naoeoinh! (Click on images to be able to read!)




(Taken on a nearby freshwater lake.)

One Man's Meat...

Years ago when I was in junior high school my English teacher assigned me the book by E. B. White titled "One Man's Meat." I read it and I am pretty sure I got an A on the book report, but for the life of me cannot remember what the book was about! I am sure it was about something very intellectually compelling because I remember I had asked to read some other book for the assignment and was assigned this one. (The title is based on a quote with the meaning that one man's meat is another man's poison. A theme we can all understand.)

Anyway, this post is a variation on that theme. It could be titled one man's cabbage is sometimes another man's/woman's weed. This post is about Aralia spinosa or what is commonly called the devil's walking stick.

A blog that I have read regularly is Robert Brady's PureLand Mountain. This blog was noted as a 'blog of interest' back in the infancy days of blogging and was one of the first blogs I started reading. Bob lives on the side of a mountain in Japan and his very well written blog is about that life. In Japan they routinely use wild plants to add richness to their diet just as we do with our wild mushrooms and fiddle head ferns in the spring. I read about his early spring search for the rare and reclusive tara-no-mein in this post . The Bradys have to go deep into the woods to their 'secret' place to harvest this delicacy.

After harvest they prepared the new spring shoots by frying them in a light batter like tempura. He followed the original post with another that discussed how he was surprised that the devil's walking stick can be found freely throughout the Eastern United States. It is not the exact same species but very close.

I was clearing some weeds around some young fruit trees my husband had planted along our driveway and I discovered that I have a whole grove of these plants growing at the edge of my forest. They have sprouted from a large devil's walking stick that I kept last year not knowing what it was. The plant stalk is thorny and certainly the reason for the common name it was given. The tiny white clusters of summer flowers were so attractive to pollinators and the bouquets of hanging purple berries that appeared in early fall were so lovely, that I purposely kept the plant when I was clearing the weeds. The plant grows tall with a cape of fern-like leaves that are attractive on their own. I counted 25 of these plants along the hill falling away into the forest, yesterday. One is 8 feet high and the rest are three to four feet. Since the plant can grow to 30 feet...this grove will be interesting. I hope that I have not encouraged an invasive weed here...

Now next spring I have to read up on harvest of the young shoots, as Bob says they are as valuable as caviar in Japan.

Thursday Thoughts #26---I Am a Very Bad Girl

Sometimes I just can't help myself.

• While spending time babysitting with my grandchildren I was watching another little boy chase ducks near the playground. His smaller brother, perhaps two, was trying hard to follow but got distracted by a small mud puddle just a few feet away from me. The little guy proceeded to stomp and splash with perfect joy and abandon. The exhausted and distracted father glanced back in pain. I looked across at the young dad and said "When was the last time you got to stomp in a mud puddle?" I then smiled and headed for the slides.
• I was shopping for bubble bath the other day, and while in one of those suds and muds stores that focuses only on ones self-indulgence, the sales girl offered me the deal that if I bought 3 bottles of bubble bath I could get another 3 free! I am at the time in my life that I think 6 bottles of bubble bath a bit too much and so I said: "Who on earth can used 6 bottles of bubble bath before their expiration date?" Of course her trained response was to get them as gifts. I left the store with the one bottle I needed.
• I have been watching the chickadee go back and forth like a crazy parent feeding her little ones with insects. The house sits above one of my garden beds. I finally could not resist and stepped into the middle of the bed and peered close into the birdhouse. I saw little moving faces...how cute. But I won't do that again as the momma chickadee almost had a heart attack when she returned.
• When I went to pick up my vacuum and was told that the circuit board had to be replaced at a cost of $107 plus $40 in labor I actually said "D##n!" under my breath.
• When I struggled once again with the handle to my freezer and was able to snap it back on the first try I said "Hot d##n." out loud in my kitchen.
• Last Sunday after spending two days washing windows and window screens, I did absolutely nothing all day other than read, nap, and watch some really bad movies.
• After grocery shopping I always step out into the yard just to 'check' on things and fifteen minutes later find I am out weeding in my good shoes and go-to-town pants. (I am such a fashion maven...you would be surprised.)
• I still get email from certain rather disfunctional colleagues with questions about how I handled stuff in my previous job...it has been over a year since I retired. I take my sweet old time in answering. (Why I bother, I do not know.)
• I have been eating waffles, whipped cream and fresh strawberries for breakfast for the last three days. BAD GIRL!
• I finally saw the Star Trek movie and I swear I almost cried when they brought up the theme music at the end. I am such a silly Trekkie.
  

Corners

Everyone needs a quiet corner or a small space that sits waiting for them at the end of the day...waiting with 'open arms.' It does not have to be a fancy place with damask and lace curtains, but it should be a quiet and clean place where one can put down their burdens and put up their feet. The corner of my recently completed patio meets that qualification during the milder weather of the year. The chairs shown are old and from my mother-in-law's Florida room many years ago. Of the original four chairs only three are left and the cushions have worn thin. The cushion colors are faded and the ties are mostly broken. The chairs do not really fit the style of the patio, but they are too useful to toss away. They remind me of my M.O.L. who was a special and loving woman. If the cushions are not damp from a recent rain, I go out there with a good book and something to drink and perhaps my binoculars or camera and put my feet up on one of the chairs and sit back on the opposite chair and claim my corner of the world for an hour or so. (When I had toddlers the corner of respite was the guest bed when they were napping.)

Do you have a corner that you can claim?

Canvassing by Weary Hag

Weary Hag posted the following questions on her blog a while back. She has taken a respite from blogging and rarely posts anything, so I had to read this and give it a go. Feel free to tackle and then let her know you answered.


1. While typing - do you prefer classic or italics?
Same answer as #2 below.

2. While reading - do you prefer classic or italics?
Classic always. Italics for me is for emphasis or scientific names.

3. Worst experience while blogging? [i.e. page froze, lost data, caught using dated or false info, typos - what made you gasp - even a li'l]
I sent out several comments while logged in as ME. As you may know I have a weird fear of being ‘found out.’

4. Best experience while blogging? [i.e. new friendship/relationship formed, wrote a post that was just short of genius, learned new com tech skill, etc]
Writing something that makes me feel good and then having one or more of the readers tell me it made them feel good as well. Or getting compliments on how well written it was. I am an addict for that kind of stuff. Words are powerful when they can change feelings or help someone make it through the day.

5. Let's assume you're an avid blogger - someone at an intimate dinner or party suggests that blogging is for idiots. In what way do you beat the dog meat out of them - [read: handle the situation] - if at all?
I might answer that I often thought **** (you fill in the blank) were idiots, but I now can see their side of the story. Or perhaps I might say that blogging is so vast in scope and participants represent most of mankind, so there are no more idiots in blogland than in any other activity. (Now twitter is another story.)

6. Do you pass your blog URL out to people like sneeze molecules or do you generally keep it to yourself and your own group of mutual blog buddies?
I keep it very secret and only those who stumble upon it and stay become my personal treasured readers. ;-)

7. Do you share your blog with family [children/spouse/siblings/parents] or do you deliberately keep it from them?
Nope. No one knows and when I die, I will have to leave the password in my will so that someone can let my readers know why I stopped blogging! (Besides my family never comments on stuff I post on the family blog...why share the real me?)

8. This is for those who only use a fabricated name when blogging: Do you ever wish you could tell people just exactly who you really are or are you content to remain anonymous to the masses?
I am very content to remain anonymous. I am a coward and would not be as honest a writer if people knew who I really was.

9. This is for those who use their true name when blogging: Do you ever wish you had remained anonymous or are you pleased as punch to get your real self out there?
See #8.

10. Of these - which is your favorite genre to read in the blogging community: [choose ONLY one]: a) how-to & advice, b) brief topics covered with a comedic edge, c) personal adventures or experiences, d) photos with captions, e) up-to-the-minute newsy type stories told with blogger's perspective or spin
I really like reading all genre’s but personal experiences/adventures tend to grab me the most.

11. From one to ten, when reading a blog post ... do spelling & grammar really count? (not the occasional typo). One: they don't count in the least .............. Ten: stop reading midstream and move on.
I guess about a 7. If the post is really good, I can ignore the errors. I am a terrible speller even though I almost made straight A’s in school…hard to believe, huh? But Blogger has a spell check so there is little excuse for that kind of sloppiness. My grammar has gotten very sloppy and I wish Blogger had a grammar editor.

12. Have you been approached to write a book or magazine article or to contribute to an existing publication in any way, solely based upon your blog? (and I don't mean by smokinbettylou or tedthetool)
Hah! Don’t I wish!

13. Do you prefer the read & comment type of post or the interactive style (like this one)?
I like this type once in a while. I prefer the read and comment because it is easier to read and shoot from the hip.

14. Which applies to you most often? a) I read and comment, b) I read and move along ...
About 50/50.

15. Are you involved in any other networking venues or is blogging your one and only? [i.e. FB, YT, MSpace, LiveJournal, Classmates, photo hosting sites, etc.] No need to name them unless you want to ...
I have a family blog, I am on Facebook but rarely visit there, and have several photo sharing site(s)…but most of my computer time is just blogging here.

Your turn.

The Non-Fixer

In a prior post I wrote about how I fix things... at night... in bed...while I am trying to fall asleep. In reality, I do not have a lot of talent for fixing things in the harsh light of day.

The world is full of many interesting people, but I think we are we losing those all-important tinkerers. Today young men and women can work a software package, work a complicated blackberry, program a GPS, and plan a project. But can they change their own oil? Can they fix a clothes dryer? Can they install a window AC? Can they get that old rototiller running again? Can they reset that stupid door hinge that sticks every year? Can they take a machine apart and through examination figure out what is wrong and what can be fixed and what needs to be replaced?

Of course not! Who has the time? Who has the patience to break a nail in these stressful times. And so our land-fills will continue to expand as we toss things that cannot be fixed.

I think tinkerers are really cool people. My 75-year-old neighbor, who was an executive for a well-know company years ago, fixes everything on the farm that he rents out. He also rents out two trailers on this farm and repairs everything that goes wrong inside them as well. His church loves him as he can figure out anything and fix it even if he has to take it home and work on it all weekend! He likes the satisfaction of repairing something rather than throwing it away and replacing it by something new that is probably not as well made.

My dad could fix almost anything. He knew that we didn't have the money to buy new and so he made it work. Both of my brothers (one who owns a small construction company and one who is a retired teacher) also have the ability and patience to fix things rather than toss them. I did not inherit that fixing gene.

This photo above is the refrigerator in my kitchen. Perhaps in my frequency in getting access to my favorite ice cream I opened the bottom freezer too often this week and the refrigerator is trying to tell me something...the handle came off in my hand yesterday! I got out the manual (which anal retentive Tabor filed away carefully) and read it and it does appear that one should be able to slide this handle back on the two clamps without much struggle. It is NOT broken. I have read the directions twice and with a Masters degree still cannot figure it out. I am taking a deep breath and going to tackle it again later when I am more Zen. I can still get into the freezer so there is no panic.

This contrivance in the back seat of my car is my in-house vacuum cleaner. It stopped working also earlier this week. I unplugged, reset breakers, and reset the button on the bottom of the vac resulting in no success. I got out the manual and researched on the Internet. I am guessing that the starter motor on this two-year-old beast is the problem. I called a vacuum repair place and the nice man said I really needed to bring it in if I wanted him to work on it. He proceeded to tell me how to take it off my basement wall. The canister had been installed about 8 feet high, and so, standing on a chair, I managed to lift this heavy piece of machinery, carry it upstairs to the garage, and battled it into the back seat of my car. ( I may not know how to fix things, but I sure as hell lift weights and that does come in handy.)

P.S. For full disclosure, my darling husband, whom I love dearly, could not fix a squeaky hinge if his life depended on it.

P.P.S. If things do come in threes, I wonder what is next.

The Diet

My husband has been gone for several days on a business 'junket' to Hawaii. I have eaten all the leftovers that were sitting in the refrigerator from the meals I had cooked before he left. Yesterday I finally went food shopping. When my husband is gone I tend to ignore meal times and just graze throughout the day when I feel hungry. Grazing may sound healthy but I decided to list in order what I ate yesterday as I ran around doing stuff just to remind myself of something---like my lack of self-discipline.

1/2 blueberry muffin
2 cups of coffee with cream and sugar
1 banana milk shake (to use up some coffee ice cream while cleaning out the freezer before shopping)
1 small yogurt (just past its due date)
A roast chicken leg and thigh (from a whole roasted chicken I purchased at the grocery store and tore into while still warm)
1 chocolate covered and filled Bismark doughnut (ditto as immediately above---I did only buy two doughnuts to my credit)
A glass of club soda
8 strawberries (from the garden that I picked while weeding)
2 pieces of dark chocolate (to reward my garden weeding work)
1 glass of red wine
1 piece of string cheese followed closely by a piece of blue cheese
2 Pepperidge farm cookies
1 ham sandwich with lettuce and tomato and mayonnaise
A handful of peanuts
2 cups of tea
2 more Pepperidge farm cookies

He better get home soon or he will not recognize me!

Life Story #29 - Getting There

A number of years ago, when I knew that my daughter was close to becoming engaged and my son was close to graduating from college, and I was trying to suppress another empty-nest panic attack, I organized a family trip. I knew this would be the last trip we might ever take with just our family of four and I wanted that time together and that memory. We spent a week on an island called Ambergris Key in Belize. This was before the island became so famous by being a location for the TV show Survivor. It is (was?) a low key resort with small hotels and lots of long beaches and hole-in-wall restaurants of various quality and cost. This first week was filled with beaching, snorkeling and bike-riding. The second week was to be our adventure into the jungles of Belize staying at an eco-lodge. This post is about the adventure of getting to the lodge.

The airport on Ambergris Key is small and busy with various small jets shuttling tourists to and fro. We arrived early for our 'chartered' flight inland. We were told that no regular commercial flights went to the lodge. After waiting 30 minutes past our departure time and seeing jets take off and land, my husband went to the charter counter and asked about the delay in our flight. The uninterested clerk explained that our pilot was just running late. His demeanor indicated that this lateness was usual. We have traveled extensively and are quite familiar with the pace and attention to time as it is interpreted in other countries. You have to go with the flow or get an ulcer.

We continued to sit in the increasingly hot sunshine watching tourists while a small dented prop plane puttered up to the departure area. It was one of those scary, little one prop things that when you see it you wonder why anyone would place their lives on board. Well, as I am sure you have guessed, that was our plane.

It was the smallest plane any of us had every seen. Only six seats inside and no room for much luggage. The pilot was a tall, skinny and a scruffy representation of his profession. He had holes in the pockets of his jeans and his greasy cap looked as though he was the mechanic for the plane, as perhaps he was. He did not say one word to us and the only way we knew it was our flight was when the clerk indicated it was time for us to board. The only word we heard out of "Chuckles" the entire flight was prior to departure when he said, "Vamonos!"

Tucked inside beneath gray and frayed seat belts we truly understood the expression of 'sardines in a tin can.' Our luggage was piled unceremoniously in the back. The door on my side did not close completely and I could see about half an inch of daylight all the way around. The take off was breathtaking. Just the type of experience you would have if you put an airplane engine on a tin outhouse and took off with two wings and a prayer. The noise was too loud for talk and the vibration of the plane was loosening not only my teeth fillings but kept sliding my glasses down my nose preventing me from clearly seeing all the dangers we were missing.

I put on a brave face for the children although I was close to wetting my pants as we took off low over the Caye and the ocean and the open savanna. Before we reached the jungle we entered a low hanging cloud and moisture began to form on the outside of the plane and started to spray me through the crack in the door. I was soon quite damp in addition to being completely massaged.

Eventually we made it through the cloud and I gathered my courage to look out the side window and saw we were following a river up into the jungle. Hubby who is a social bunny (as you know from reading my blog) was attempting to use his Spanish and make small talk with the pilot who did not respond to a single thing he said. Daughter was taking pictures of the scenery outside the moist windows and son was taking everything in including keeping an eye on the gauges in the front of the pilot as they seemed to be varying their readings rather dramatically. I just kept very still as I was getting cold and wet and afraid any movement I made might dramatically shift the weight in the plane and alter our course for the worse.

At long last, and after I felt I had aged several years, an open gravel area appeared in the jungle beneath us. The plane began its descent as this gravel path was our landing strip. We landed on the path in a field with squash plants on either side. There was nothing in sight except a narrow gravel road leading somewhere off in the distance at the end of the landing strip.

(In the photo above the tall skinny guy is the pilot ogling my daughter who is standing at the tale of the plane. Do not let this photo deceive you, close up the plane was a piece of junk.)

The pilot got out and opened the door on my side and indicated that we should get our luggage. We unloaded everything and placed it on the ground. Then without word he got back in the plane and took off into the blue sky. The sound of the plane's engine died away in the distance and here we stood in complete and stunned silence as the jungle surrounded us. We sat on our luggage thankful we had all our limbs and not eager to go anywhere. There was not a sign or a single house in sight and we wondered, if like some wilderness movie, we were supposed to carry our luggage down the lone dusty road ahead.

We waited for about five minutes until we finally heard the sound of a vehicle approaching.

Out of the jungle a white bus appeared. A friendly driver emerged from the bus above and helped us load our luggage. It appeared that we had survived and now were looking forward to more jungle adventures at the lodge.

Magnetic Personality

I am married to someone with a magnetic personality. He can stand in line waiting for tickets to the movie theater and come across an old long lost friend. He can be picking up a cup of chai tea at a Starbucks and meet and make a new friend. I didn't really think about this much until I retired and I realized how low key I am in public and how energy high he is. I am not complaining except I know that if he was in a field other than science we would be very rich by now. He is a born salesman and if it something he believes in...look out!

Years ago, my husband and I traveled to Korea for work-related activities. During the project he actually was briefly on Korean national TV talking about the work he was doing.

Later in the trip we did manage to take a few days off and play tourist. While touring one of the historic parks in the city of Seoul we stopped in the cafeteria for some quick refreshment and were approached by the three Korean college students in the photos above. While their accents were thick they did appear to know enough English ( and certainly more Korean than I) to communicate with us very well. They were working on a project where they had to find people and interview them. I think they were communication majors.

Naturally they instantly decided to interview my husband instead of me. He was the better pick as he can talk for hours on end about almost anything and when the subject is himself he can go on for days. They wanted to know what he was doing in Korea and how long he would stay, etc. As I look as these photos, I wonder what grade they got and if they did go on to work in television.

Do you know someone with a magnetic personality?

Thursday Thoughts #25---Brain Dump

1. You know that it has been raining way too many days when you wander into the kitchen to turn out the overhead light and realize it is the sun shining through the skylight.
2. On gray rainy days do not attempt painting trim when the color of the paint selected is antique ivory and it is going over builder's white. I guarantee you will end up touching it up at least three times.
   
3. You have reached Zen when your daughter explains that they had made too many plans to celebrate Mother's Day over the weekend, but could you come up and babysit next Tuesday?... and none of this really bothers you including not hearing from your son until Mother's Day late afternoon.
   
4. I actually saw a catbird land on a stick near the bird feeder and the stick flipped and ended up 'goosing' the nearby squirrel. That was so immature funny.
   
5. You know that you are an elder when most arguments with your husband are about who forgot what.
6. I could not remember the name of a place my hubby took me to a few months earlier and so I said "Aren't you glad you married me for my figure and not my brain?" (This is funnier if you know I am mostly angles instead of curves---well maybe sorta funny.)
7. Then this brought up a discussion of a prior girlfriend of hubby's who did have hooters and long blond hair and no brain and who actually got a degree in medicine by using those assets. Makes you think about looking at your doctor more carefully before you choose 'her'.
8. I am using the dog whisperer's advice on mental energy and body language and it seems to work as I was the only one that did not get head-butted by the goat at the farm we recently visited. Next I try this on my grandchildren.
   
9. I never ever in my life thought I would say I would have time to actually see spring in all its stages, but I had time this year and I am very glad.
10. I have been an ardent science fiction fan since back in the days of Asimov, Bradbury and Clarke. But I am especially fond of Rosenberry and am wondering if I will like this new Star Trek movie. It appears the director was not a fan of the Star Trek series that came after Captain Kirk. Ahem? Oh well, I am going to see it anyway.
    

Are you Jealous?

Seems I might have fed a green-eyed monster by pointing out my hubby cooks breakfast for me quite often. (Just to let you know that my life is not perfect, I don't always want breakfast!)

Below is a shirt that came out of the laundry recently. (Yes, it is an old raggedy thing that I garden in, but that is not the point of this post. Yes, you have to tilt your head sideways because Blogger is being tempermental.)


Below is the same shirt after hubby volunteered to fold the laundry. Actually I don't let him fold laundry but this ended up with some stuff he had to wash for a trip. You can see why I ask that he not fold laundry.


Below is the shirt that anal-retentive Tabor refolded before she put it away in the drawer. Not so jealous anymore, are you?

Busy as?

I attended a plant sale over the weekend and in the process signed up for the master gardener program. I have been wanting to do this for a number of years, but always put it off. It probably won't start until fall. Now I have no excuses. While signing up I met the instructor and asked him if there were bee keepers who needed places to leave their hives.

He smiled indulgently and explained that most beekeepers will charge you to keep their hives on your property as it is a lot of work to maintain the hive. I mumbled something about just trying to keep the honey bees population strong.

He continued by saying that the honey bee is not indigenous to our area ( I think they were brought over from Europe) and they end up competing with a number of natural pollinators such as the solitary bees, the fly that looks like a bee and a number of pollinating wasps. There are about 4000 species of pollinators in the U.S. Clearly he saw honey bee colonies as an agricultural invader for woodlands. While they are important for agricultural crops, they are not important for gardens.

I had not thought about honey bees in this way, and now like many environmental causes/fads, I must re-think this.

We ended up buying the "solitary bee house" shown in the photo above, which probably was not needed unless I am detracting the carpenter bees from the wood in my house! And yes, an idiot can make this in 30 minutes. Is my face red!

Happy Breakfast

Eating homemade French toast instead of going to I-Hop saves about $20.00 and you can eat in your PJs.







Having it made and served by a husband with a sense of humor, priceless!