Monday, February 28, 2011

Heading home

It's the end of February and we're far away from the sun and sand and sitting in a motel in Illinois.  It seems wrong to be fleeing good weather and heading into ice and snow, but I couldn't be happier.  There's no place like home!  I miss my family and friends.  I miss my big house with more than one room.  

Even She Devil is getting cranky...oh wait, that's normal for her.  

Taking care of She Devil is a full time job.  She  wants to sit in my lap, lay on my shoulder, beg treats from me, demand water from her special travel bottle, ride on the dashboard using the GPS as a pillow.  Lift me up...set me down...feed me.. pet me... water me.... I did suggest to Left Brain that we call them and offer her as a donation.

I don't think I'm capable of photography right now anyway.  We stopped at Cracker Barrel for lunch and I was having trouble cutting my chicken when Left Brain suggested using a fork instead of my spoon.  I hadn't even realized it wasn't a fork....must get off the road.

Then we missed our turn because we were talking and listening to Dr Laura, but we were still basically going north, so it ended up I got some great therapy from her on the route.

Then there was a sign on the freeway that said "Don't drive tired" so we pulled off the road and settled in some motel somewhere and ready for another supper of sandwiches and stale Doritos. 

Mmmmm.  I miss my kitchen - and THAT's a statement most of my friends have never heard.

Long Sleep the Exhausted Queen (and her little cat, too)

Playing cribbage with the cat

Okay, we’re getting a bit bored with our limited lifestyle down here.  We’ve figured out each other too well and agreed to let She Devil into our cribbage game just to spice things up.

She’s a pretty fast learner, but I’m really sick of holding the cards for her and hearing her whine about the “I don’t have any thumbs” thing and how my services are mandated under DAMN CAT (Disabled Abilities Must Not Cause Any Trouble).

At least when we play Scrabble she can maneuver the tiles easier with her paws and teeth.  But I hate the words she comes up with.  They all sound like hairballs, but when I check them against the official Scrabble dictionary…there they are.  It’s not that I’m a sore loser, but let’s just say we don’t play a lot of Scrabble together any more.

Her math is actually better than mine and she makes her decisions much quicker than Left Brain who has to analyze everything.  I just keep the cards I think are the prettiest and brightest and count as a ten so it’s easier to count.  He assures me that’s hurting my game and he’s probably right as his score is much higher than mine.

She’s pretty good at the game considering its new for her but she’s such a bad loser.  When she’s had enough she’ll excuse herself to use the Litter Castle and the stench would drive any one out of there.  I’d like to kick her out of the competition, but Left Brain enjoys playing someone that can actually provide a challenge, so I guess she’s in.

Long Live Queen of the Pegs

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Florida signs of interest

We have seen some very unusual signs down here in Florida.  Not all of them are that unique to just this state, like the bear crossing sign...but it's something you don't see in Wisconsin.  We have signs warning you of cow crossings....something I have not seen down here.

they'd prefer we walk on the plants?
And there seem to be a number of signs relating to sea shells.  This tells you where to walk.

And this one warns you not to clean them in the restrooms.  There was one on the men's room also, so they are politically correct.  It's apparently not just Sally who sells sea shells by the sea shore. 

And speaking of "shores" - there are a number of Adopt a Shore signs here.  Our question was do we choose Eric or Colleen Shore? She's a lot of fun, but he does undo the damage I do to the computers he sells me.  Such a choice to have to make!

Now I do realize that this is not an uncommon bank, but I haven't seen many of these back home.  When I was a kid I remember First Federal and First National ... everyone wanted to be first.  And even though I was taught if you're number two you try harder...but what does this say?  I'm really confused.

This one made a statement.....a very vague one. Why not just say "no semis".  It seems to infer that although "it's not really a good idea for a semi to try this turn, but go ahead if you feel you must".

I'm not sure what prompted this one - I'm just glad I wasn't wearing my 7" spikes that day!  Is it so you are able to run after your child?
It really ticked off Left Brain when they made him go put on something else before they'd let him on the pathways. 

And for those who think they might need to get to a doctor, or probably will after they text to find out how long the wait will be.....

Long Live the Queen of the Sensible Shoes

Friday, February 25, 2011

True Confessions

Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a priest.  Yes, I know that’s an odd occupational fantasy for a Jewish woman, but I like to think a woman really could be a priest some day.  Well, I suppose that even if THAT were possible the Vatican would probably veto me for being Jewish.

This pastime started innocently enough as I would wander through my garden and chant the Latin names of the plants as I sprinkled the miracle grow.  I like to swing it side to side while chanting and I feel very much like a…well, maybe priestess would be a better term.  Kind of Mother Nature-like if you know what I mean.  It’s quite appropriate when you consider I am handing out “miracle” grow here and giving them my blessing.

They say that talking to the plants helps them grow and I do believe this.  I remember last summer when I had some salvia that just doesn’t doing well and I went into my Godfather role while threatening them.  I’d yank out some lackluster performer and holding it up as an example I'd admonish the rest with “You see this….this could be you.  Now…I’m a gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.  You either shape up and grow straight or you’ll swim with the compost”.   I then cut off a small plastic horse’s head and left it in their midst.  I think they got the picture because they flourished afterwards.  But then again, it may have been the rain we got that night….who knows.

This may have been somewhat induced by heatstroke as that flower bed is out by the road and in full sun, something I don’t handle very well.  Which is unfortunate as this is where the neighbors are able to view me as I crawl along on my hands and knees in the dirt muttering to myself.  I’ve noticed that some of the younger families make their children cross to the other side of the street when I’m in the yard. I believe I’ve become THAT woman in the neighborhood that kids talk about.  Most of the adult neighbors just walk by with their wineglasses and smile.  I love this valley.

Anyway, I digress.  In our canned ham the screen door has a small plastic slide to access the handle and keep the insects out.  Left Brain was outside grilling supper last night and I was sitting on the toolbox that holds his clothes by the bunk bed chatting with him.  I forget what he said (actually I seldom listen as he’s usually talking to himself) and all of a sudden I felt the compulsion strike.

I slid the door open and asked in my best Irish brogue “what is it you’d like to tell me, my son?”  He turned and looked confused….as he often does….and I continued with “go forth and say two Oy Veys and three Hail Mary’s and you will be forgiven”.  Then I slammed the little partition closed.  He was  caught off guard, but his early childhood Catholic training kicked in and started to laugh.

It just proves that confession is good for the soul.

Long Live the High Priestess of the Canned Ham

Hoodwinked Again

I've seen some interesting men down here….some scarier than others…but always interesting.  First there was having a Seminole Indian in full costume as I left the canned ham one day and then seeing a pirate waiting for the bus.    And then there’s Left Brain, of course, who’s always interesting to me.

We passed a sign yesterday advertising William Slicker – attorney at law.  I thought that was an unfortunate name for a lawyer and could imagine all the Slick Willy insults he must endure.  It was right up there with finding a urologist named Rusty Dick.

We went recently to a manatee viewing station and yes, we could see there were many manatees in the water, but it's hard to get a good photo since they are, well...underwater.  But I did notice a guy working high up on top of the smokestack.  So, this is my photo of a man-at-ease.

But yesterday I was treated to a real pleasure.  A man winked at me.  When you reach a certain age (it varies for everyone) you notice that men don’t do this anymore.  The young men call you ma’am and the baggers offer to help you to your car.  Do I really look that old?  Have we been on vacation too long?  That’s the plus (or minus) of not having a mirror in the canned ham.  I know I’ve startled myself occasionally when using a public restroom, but I thought it was just because I forget what I look like.

It’s hot – I’m tired and yes, I’ve let myself “go”.  But I still haven’t gone shopping at Wal-Mart in my swim suit or pajamas…yet.  I fear that if we stay down here much longer, that may happen, but only if I have an attack of insomnia and do my shopping at 3:00am – then it seems to be standard attire and nobody really cares.

I know I used this on
recently but I just like it so much!
Sometimes it doesn’t count….being winked at I mean.  I used to get hit on and winked at all the time when I visited my dad in the nursing home.  Those residents can be just plain frisky sometimes.

But this man made eye contact with me and he appeared to be much younger than I am.  We were driving by and my hair was blowing in the breeze, so all he could see was my face really.  It’s not like those other times when I’d realize I wasn’t dressed.

He was just beginning to straddle his bicycle (a regular one…not one of those  three wheelers) and as he alit on his studly bike he winked at me….and smiled a very sexy little grin.  

I couldn’t wait to brag to Left Brain about my secret admirer.  I turned to him,  my face flushed with a burst of long forgotten estrogen and said “Did you see that!”

He burst my bubble when he admitted that he did notice the man but averted his eyes so as to not cause embarrassment to the him.  Huh?  Some sort of unwritten "man code" I guess.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well” Left Brain replied, “It’s pretty obvious that he hurt himself  landing hard on the bike saddle.”


Well….everyone is entitled to their opinion, no matter how flawed it may  be.  Left Brain saw it as a wince and a grimace – I prefer to see it as a lusty man overwhelmed by my pure beauty.

Long Live the Queen of Wink Wink Nudge Nudge

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Confessions about the Skype Test

I've been asked by readers if yesterdays skype test incident was real.

Well, yes and no.  The test itself was real, the flashing incident was not.  I had thought of doing it, but then resisted the urge. I'm quite pleased to know I actually CAN use some restraint in my actions. But knowing the way my life goes, it could have happened.

What was that screaming sound?
Our friend Biker Boy sent a photo of a blue footed boobie in an effort to prove I'm not crazy.  Well, it's probably a tad late for that.  But they do exist and they are blue footed.  I wish now that I had added blue aqua socks to the story.

Left Brain and I were hiking through Fort DeSoto Park and they have these cut out images along the path with historical information.  I just had to have him take a photo of one of the Natives getting frisky.

We received messages from the Lord yesterday.  I realize many of you have been the benefactor of this...but via Fed Ex?  To begin with my neighbor the Lutheran minister is sending me my mail and we are very grateful to him for this.  But to have the box hand delivered to us by Annette Lord?  This was just too much of a coincidence!  We were certain the contents would be mystical and magical...but alas it was the usual bank statements, bills, offers from Charter and seed catalogs.  All of which were opened with glee.  When you only open the mail once or twice a month it's a special event.

Long Live the Queen of the Startled

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Book recommendations

I have received a couple of reading recommendations from my followers.

Miss Edna enjoys bird and flower magazines as well as anything written by Rosamund Pilcher or her son, Robin.  I've not checked into any of these and will have to give them a look.

My crazy cousin, Rodeo Girl, likes the Bloody Jack series by LA Meyer.  Knowing her, I imagine it's very good.  Thanks for the recommendations and I'll give them a look.

Keep reading everyone!  We love our Amazon Kindles and find them a perfect way to travel and have something to read at all times.  I usually have two or three books loaded that I read off and on.

If you love reading and want to share this gift, contact your local Literacy Council and ask how you can be a mentor in their program.  This is something I've done back home and I miss my weekly sessions with my student.  It's fulfilling in so many ways.

Long Live the Queen of Books

Can you see me NOW?

My Man, Left Brain
Left Brain is active in a sister-city project through World Services that brings college age students from Russia to work in La Crosse, Wisconsin for the summer.  He traveled to Dubna in late December to do the interviews, but one last minute opportunity arose and it was decided to use Skype for the interview.

Our internet connection at the RV park in Florida is iffy and we weren't confident this would work.  So, we both sat at the table and played dueling laptops for a test run.

Too close together...the microphones were echoing off each other sounding a bit like the theme from 'Deliverance'.  I was then sent to the Coping Cabana to receive his call there.  I’d often feared it would come to this ...communicating through electronic devices while within each others sight.

So, I packed up my trusty laptop and out the door I went.  I checked in on She Devil before setting up.  Yup, there she is...rolling in the dirt underneath the trailer.  She enjoys laying in the dust and weeds, watching people go by. It gives trailer trash a whole new meaning.

the scene of the crime
She looked content, so I situated myself in the Cabana and awaited his Skype call.  It was a hot and sticky day and I was glad for the breeze in the cabana since I hate wearing bras.  Well, ladies (and I suppose some of you guys) don't you?
The call went through and I could see him, but he said he was not able to see my face. He then explained the webcam is the little gizmo on the top of the screen.  Oh I'm going to feel paranoid, like I'm being watched all the time.

"You need to adjust it upwards" he said, "all I can see are your boobs."

I’m looking at his image and thinking, all I see is a boob too. Now, in hindsight I know I should have just done as he said, but I was taken with the humor of it decided to REALLY give him something to look at.  

So I raised my shirt up and flashed him on the computer.

Now, this was all done quickly and probably would have gone unnoticed.  If I weren’t laughing so hard.  But that’s apparently what drew the attention of the couple walking past our trailer.  

When they turned to wave, the man was struck dumb.  His wife shot me a dirty look and yanked him forward.  He was still smiling and waving to me as he was dragged away.

I sure hope this doesn't cause a second ambulance call to the park.

Long Live the Queen of the Boobs

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

book reviews and answers to questions

A question was posted asking what I was doing in the men's bathroom at the art museum in yesterdays blog.  Well, let me just say....that's none of your business! 

Actually, I needed to go and there were two doors marked gentlemen.  I figured this was probably part of their humor since I hadn't seen a ladies room. I go.  Then when I noticed the urinal placed up near the ceiling I started to laugh and just HAD to check out the other one.  the nice lady finally directed me to the ladies room, which was absolutely stunning.

Left Brain is fine with this, I think, I've never really asked his opinion.  Mostly he just pretends he doesn't know who I am.

Anyway...time for the  book reports.  We both just finished reading House Rules and loved it.  If you've ever wanted to learn more about autism and Aspergers, this is both educational and an interesting read, as all her books tend to be.

I had read Jane Eyre and now Left Brain is reading it and enjoying it very much.  I didn't know how he'd like it with the older style of speech, but as he said, he was enchanted by it.  It's an old classic that is timeless and seems to be one of those I'd missed in high school.   He has finished War and Peace, but I haven't tackled it yet.

I just finished The Murderer's Daughters and found it very interesting.  I have to confess that I'd never given much thought to the families of those in jail and how these crimes may have impacted theirs.  It certainly gave me a new perspective and appreciation for that population.

Long Live the Queen of Books  -

Foggy Bottom Morning

Yesterday we both took showers and Left Brain forgot his towel.  When he threatened to streak to the car (I was too busy sitting in his reclining lawn chair playing scrabble to fetch it for him) I thought...whoa, that's a possible story.  So - another attempt at a short story.  This is totally fictional...I'm not a complete idiot, I still have work to do to achieve that status.

Picture it - a little canned ham parked in an adult only (not X-rated, you just have to be over 55) RV park in Florida.....

It was a foggy morning – not outside… just inside my head.    No amount of caffeine was helping to clear it.  Maybe some nice refined white sugar – yeah, that will do the trick I thought as I grabbed the last sweet roll.

I like my breakfast rolls warm, so I popped it into the microwave and punched in my PIN number for a cash withdrawal.  Oh, this is going to be a LONG day!
Maybe I need to take a shower and get some clean undies… it’s been a while.  That will snap me out of my fog.  So, while the microwave tried to figure out what my bank balance was I went into the shoilet to take a shower.

With my eyes full of soap I reached for a washcloth…what the… I had forgotten to remove the toilet paper.  Oh well, it might work.  Nope.  Now I have little blobs of wet toilet paper all over my face.  After removing this mess I  managed to wash and rinse my hair.  I did not do the repeat cycle – it just seemed to risky.

Dang…I had forgotten to bring in a bath towel, but luckily Left Brain left his within reach on his upper bunk.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind, so I snatched it up and dried myself off.  Oh yeah, clean clothes.  I hadn’t thought that far ahead.
The microwave dinged.  I had heated my breakfast roll to the tune of about a $50 withdrawal, so I tossed that into the trash and took my receipt.  This is the oddest morning I’ve ever had.

Clothes.  The thought penetrated through my fog long enough to realize I had no clean clothes to put on.  This is the problem with storing your clothes in the back of the van due to lack of space in our hamlet.  It requires some advance directive and that’s just not the way I roll.

Hmmm.  What to do?  The van isn’t that far way and I could wrap the towel around me and dash out and grab clothes and be back inside the canned ham before anyone even notices me.  I’ll be quiet and stealthy.  Yeah, that’s the ticket!

I did hesitate for just a second as some of the fog lifted and I pondered whether or not this was a good idea.  But the fog hadn’t lifted that far yet.  I rationalized that the beach towel covered me better than most swimsuits on the beach and this was a retirement community and their vision probably isn’t all that good and I proceeded with my plan.

First step involved opening the hatch back with the remote – I love that feature and it’s largely why I chose this vehicle.  Well!  That’s not working too well.  The hatch isn’t opening at all.  What the ……

I put the TV remove back down and picked up my key fob.  It’s this weird looking thing that doesn’t actually have a key – it’s a black fob with lots of buttons and you insert the whole thing into the ignition switch.  Odd thing. 

I punched in a button and the left rear door opened.  Nope, wrong one.  Tried it again and the right rear door opened.  Nope.  Making lots of noise now as the doors ping to warn people standing nearby that they are about to open.  Oh yeah – the one here that you need to punch twice to open the back hatch.

The car  beeped twice and started up.  I had hit the remote start.  Darn it.  Now I have to get into the driver’s seat and insert the fob so I could turn the car off.  Darn it darn it darn it darn it!

I secured my bath towel around my ample girth and slipped into my thongs.  No, no,no…. not the underwear… the shoes.   Eeeeewh!  I streaked out the door and jumped into the car.  After inserting the fob and turning off the engine I closed the side doors and found the correct button to open the back hatch.

I could see that my clothes bin was where it should be (a minor miracle) and the lid was off.  Oh, clean undies are so close!  All I needed to do now was jump out of the driver’s side door, go to the back, scoop up some clothes and get back into the house without being seen.  I waved back to the nice couple walking their little black poodle and tried to act like nothing was unusual about sitting in ones car in a beach towel.  I mean this IS Florida.

Okay….they’re  around the corner.  The coast is clear.  I jumped out of the van and slammed the door shut.  Then my thongs slid on the dewy sand (mud actually)  and I went down.  I went down alone.  The towel stayed firmly lodged in the door.  To say I had never felt so stupid was an understatement….and I have had lots of experience with this feeling. 

I scrambled to my feet and began a losing battle of tug of war with the towel.  Forget the clean clothes – I just needed to get back into the canned ham.
I almost knocked Left Brain over as I burst through the door.  He started to ask why the TV was on a Spanish station and then really noticed me.  “Oh honey, you’re a mess – you should take a shower”.

I started to explain what had happened, and we heard  sirens.  I asked him to wait so I could explain it to both he and the nice man in uniform at the same time.  We’re going to get kicked out of the park for sure this time.

I pulled on my dirty clothes over my muddy body since I really prefer not being handcuffed in the nude.  I do have my limits as to what’s acceptable, low as they are.
Left Brain just shook his head at me and sighed.  He’s learned over the years not to even ask questions.  

Then I noticed that the squad car pulled up into the trailer across the street and was followed quickly by an EMT vehicle.  It appears the man across the street had been watching birds with his binoculars and had a mild heart attack. 

He kept muttering something about seeing a Blue Footed Boobie as they took him away and they kept explaining that that species didn’t exist in Florida.  I’m thinking he was trying to say “bare footed boobies” but was still in shock when his binoculars swiveled to me as he heard all the commotion.

I feel a little responsible for what happened but sometimes it’s best not to say anything.  At least we didn’t get kicked out of the park…yet.

Now.  I think I’ll go get some clean clothes from the van and go take a shower.  Let’s see….where’s my towel?

Long Live the Queen of Tales

Monday, February 21, 2011

The Marietta Museum of Art & Whimsy

The area in and around Sarasota is loaded with more art. In fact Left Brain and I met a nice man named Art at the Marietta Museum of Art & Whimsy.

Actually he wasn't real, but you'd never know it!  I kept staring at him and waiting for him to blink. 

 The other lady sitting near him was obviously not real, but she was just as interesting...especially to a doll maker like myself.  I'm going to have to make more life sized dolls

Every aspect of this museum was fascinating...down to the tiniest details.  The colors chosen were wonderful, the art is exquisite and the staff very friendly.  I had the opportunity to meet Marietta herself while there.

There is more than just the inside of the museum - the back yard is vast and each area is tastefully arranged with eye candy to drool over.  She is hoping to be able to add a gift shop in the future.

The museum is located at 2121 N Tamiami Trail, Sarasota FL  34234.  The phone number for the museum is 941-364-3399 and Marietta's email is

It is open on Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 1 - 4PM.  There wasn't any website listed on the business card provided to me, so you'll just have to make the drive down there and check it out yourself.
Everywhere you turn the view is just stunning.  The walls are all gorgeous warm fun colors with statuary everywhere, including the rooftop.   I was taken back with the urinal in the mens room...not so unusual except that it was positioned near the ceiling.

They were setting up for a class on adding shells and glass to an archway when I was there that looked very interesting. 

I probably could have stayed longer because Left Brain looked very comfortable visiting with his new friends.  But.....alas we had places to go and things to see.

Long Live the Queen of Whimsy

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Z is for Zootrophy

Zootrophy is the feeding or tending to animals...unless you're a redneck, then it means the stuffed and mounted head of some exotic animal on your wall.

I spend a lot of time as the personal wait staff of She Devil who can't seem to adapt to a normal food and water dish like other cats.  This is her version of "straight up".

She prefers to either drink out of her special glass, a blue cup with Tweety Bird on it, but I forgot to bring that one.  She has settled for a normal one like we use, but begrudgingly.

She wanted an over-sized martini glass for Happy Hour out in the Coping Cabana, but I was worried about what the neighbors might say.  She'll have to wait until she's home to use her special Happy Hour glass in the privacy of her own deck.

Yes, she eats from a regular plate and at the table with the rest of us.  It's just our abnormal cozy little family dining together at the table.  Her manners are quite nice though, as you can see she does not have her elbows on the table.

I also liked the word Zambra - a spanish dance.  I've inserted a You Tube video of a dancing dog - she's not actually doing the zambra (I don't think ... how the heck would I know?) but it's pretty fun.

Then there is Zanyism - which just means buffonery.  Now, even though the alphabet series has ended (thank G-d!), it is in no means the end of the zanyism.

Long Live the Zany Queen!

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Y is for Yonderly

Oh, there were so many fun words starting with Y to choose from.  Yonderly means mentally or emotionally distant - absent minded.  I felt the closest connection to that one.  The other choices were yawny - prone to yawning, but that seemed more like Left Brain.  

Yowie means a little ewe - and I'm not too sheepish to admit that I  think of all of ewe often.  And that's not a baaaaad thing.

Yesterday (another 'Y') we visited the Museum of Art and Whimsy in Sarasota and it was absolutely the coolest place I've seen that promotes whimsical art!  There will be more coming on that with lots of photos and information as to how to find it.  My friend, Mrs Potter, told me about it when she visited recently and I'm so glad she did.

"Y" is this segment so short you may ask?

Because I'm having too much fun working on the "Z"s....and I don't mean my sleeping!

I'm excited to be finishing up the alphabet so I can post whatever odd thing happens at the time instead of having to think so far ahead.

Long Live the Queen of ADD

Friday, February 18, 2011

X is for X-tra added features to the blog

What!  Did you think you were going to get some X-rated photos or something?  Oh, you sick people!  Well, this is the best I could do for you.  I found it on She Devil's laptop when she was in that Big Cat Chat room with Schneider.  Thank goodness she never got a chance to send it or there's no telling what kind of perverted cat may have replied.

This blogging stuff has been X-citing and a learning adventure, that's for sure.  Yesterday I figured out how to add a You Tube video and now I've added music. 

There is an MP3 player at the bottom of all the postings that you can turn on to enjoy some music while you read of the torrid misadventures of my life.  I have it set to the Blues right now, but I'm hoping each person can set it to their favorite genre on their computer.  Please....let me know if this was successful for you as I have no other way of knowing. 

The Neocounter was a bit of a disappointment as it's only tracking from February 16th, so I need all of you fans from exotic places to keep checking in to add your national flag to the blog.  I'm amazed when I see places like Kuwait, Singapore, the Netherlands and the like.  How on earth are you finding this?  No, really...I want to know!

Also added is a comment box below each blog that you can mark as funny or interesting or whatever the categories are - I've forgotten already.  This is for those who don't have the energy to leave an entire comment.  

I've moved the total page views to the top to show total page views for all time, which amazes me considering I only started to do this on January 1, 2011.

So, that's about it for the X files today.

Long Live the Queen  XOXOXO

Thursday, February 17, 2011

W is for Watch This!

I'm beginning to get twinges of homesickness and miss my big house and community.  It's always nice to know that I can always watch the video of my Rabbi on You Tube to feel like I'm back there.  My Hebrew name is Ruth (pronounced root) and he calls me the Ruth of all Evil.  I miss him.

Here is a video of my rabbi singing the Hebrew Blues

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

V is for Very Unusual

Left Brain and I went to a lovely botanical park and I struck up a conversation with a nice lady who was tossing bread to the massive turtles in the pond. Now, for those of you faithful followers you will recall I met the sister-in-law of my third grade teacher on our first camping spot.

Well, her name is Reba and she is the niece of my sixth grade teacher.   Mr Lyga was my favorite teacher for many reasons. I had been a very shy and quiet child until then (I know that's hard for many of you to believe, but it's true) and he was the first adult to acknowledge that I was funny.... and it was okay. It was a gift that was desperately needed at the time and I will always be grateful for this kindness. It was my humor that kept me afloat and I've since then learned to use it as a great coping tool and am on a lifelong mission to help others use their laughter to get through the day.

Now, please keep in mind that these teachers were from a very small town, about 2,000 people if you counted  relatives that were visiting.  How odd that I would be coming in touch with them on this trek.

I feel a bit like I'm in a Twilight Zone episode.  Hey, Left Brain, is that Rod Sterling over there?

Long Live the Queen of Serendipity

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

U is for Unusual (except in Florida)

In florida there is no shortage of the odd and obscure.  Many of the things we see border on tacky, but that's what makes this state so great.

For example - we went to a wonderful meat market the other day and noticed this sign.  I thought it was interesting that it showed the latitude and longitude instead of an address - then Left Brain pointed out the slogan at the bottom.  Eeeewwww!

Aye maties!

 On our way home we noticed a man (we're pretty sure) waiting for the city bus.  I wondered if they have a policy on carrying side arms on the bus....or if a sword counted as a side arm.  The weird thing is that if this man commited a crime and people were asked to give a description, I'm not sure it would stand out.

Long Live the Pirate Queen   Aaaarh

Monday, February 14, 2011

T is for Thinking of You and Only YOU

 Well, it's Valentine's Day and love is in the air...and the litter box...and everywhere that She Devil goes.  I wasn't even aware that she knew the lyrics to that old Marilyn McCoo song, but she keeps singing"won't you marry me biiiilll, I've got the wedding day blueeess".  It's kind of cute.  At least her singing is better than mine.

Long Live the Queen of Love

T is for Temporary (I hope) Difficulties

First, let me wish everyone a Happy Valentine's Day.

For whatever reason, I am not able to upload any photos to the blog right now and the connection here is abysmal so I am just going to post this for now and will attempt the photos later this afternoon.


Long Live the Queen of Crankiness

Saturday, February 12, 2011

S is for Storyteller

Okay… it’s time to confess that I’m not REALLY a queen, although Left Brain makes me feel like one.  When I was younger I was a fibber, and then graduated to being a liar. But then I got really good at it and so now I’m a story teller.
The majority of what you have read so far has actually happened, but not necessarily at the same time or in the sequence portrayed.  My hobby is to take the ordinary minutiae of life and embellish it to where it’s no longer recognizable.
Here’s a short story I call “the Downfall of the Queen”.
Once upon a time in a canned ham far… far away lived a Queen with her Left Brain King and their diabolical cat named She Devil.  Now, She Devil is a rather portly cat and requires a litter pit the size of Wyoming, which during the daily cleanings I like to sing ”Oh, those golden nuggets”.  I have found that turning this chore into a musical production makes it more tolerable, but apparently only to me.   Someone in the RV Park filed a complaint about a cat howling more than the allowable maximum of three minutes.  After it was explained that it was ME, an addendum was added to the Official Park Rules.
Now please take a moment to visualize the scene.  Scooping the litter requires sitting on the very narrow edge of the opened bench seat while holding a bag in my left hand and a scooper in my right and the lid with my right shoulder. Then I dip down to scoop and lift up to drop.  It’s a great workout for the abs if you don’t mind the smell
Since I was banned from singing, I was able to hear my cell phone that fateful day. Most of our correspondence is done through email, Face Book, twitters, tweets, bleeps, smoke signals and the like… nothing involving the human voice.  The cell phone was belting out the second chorus of Enya’s “broken glass” which meant my friend, Glass Girl, was on the line..
Desperate for female conversation I plunged the scoop into the litter while retaining a tight grip with my left hand and began to reach for the phone. Dang…it’s just out of reach.  I inched my substantial butt a little more to the right and stretched my right arm almost out of the socket. I’m almost about there. Then I let my fingers do the walking the rest of the way.  I’ve got it!  I jerked it to my ear while punching the answer button with my thumb.
Now, my attention space is the size of a gnat and this sequence of events was beyond my capacity.  And that explains why in my excitement I forgot now narrow my seating was.
Splat!  I folded up on my descent into the mostly clean litter pit, losing my grip with both reality and my left hand.  The bag split upon hitting the floor and golden nuggets rolled every which way. “Oh s*#t!” I exclaimed which was quite accurate.  Crack! The lid gave way and hit my head. Thank goodness I was wearing my safety tiara.
“What’s that noise!” yelled Glass Girl.  “Are you okay?”
“Oh… I’m just sitting in the litter box” I replied.
This explanation was met with a long silence before Glass Girl spoke again.
“I know the shoilet is awkward, but it’s gotta be better than using the litter box.”
Well that did it.  Now both of us had a serious case of the giggles.
I tried to get up but the laughter was incapacitating. Each attempt was futile and caused another whack to the head.  This led to more laughter, which was now far past the giggling stage and reaching the level with snorts, tears and a runny nose.
“What are you doing in there?” Left Brain bellowed from the Coping Cabana. 
Well, by now the hysteria had ramped up another notch and when you are a woman of my age, laughter and bladder control are incompatible. 
“I’m goooooing to the baaaathrooooom!” I shrieked, laughing because it was both absurd and true.  This caused Glass Girl to laugh she hard she needed her inhaler.
Left Brain was reminding me of what almost happened the last time I was being so loud as he burst into the canned ham.  He took a moment to survey his Kingdom.  I was wedged into the litter box with my feet up over her head, a phone in one hand and laughing incoherently.  There was cat poop rolling around litter strewn floor.  She Devil yawned and rolled her eyes as if to say “It wasn’t MY fault”.
He took a deep breath, opened his mouth to speak and then thought better of it.  He just shook his head and quietly left the room. He’s learned that sometimes it’s best to say nothing and let it go.  This was definitely one of those times.
Now, I ask you.  Wasn’t this more fun than saying “I fell into the litter box yesterday?
Long Live the Queen of the Story Tellers