sunshine on a rainy day

I ended this month with a visit to southern Georgia. I hadn't seen my cousin Lynn in ... well, quite a few years, it seems! She and I seemed to not be around Waycross at the same time. I had contacted her several times on my way back home from Florida, but she would be out of town.
Clearly, a better game plan was needed! So, I contacted her earlier this week: might she be available for lunch on Wednesday? Yes, she would, but she had a late shift on Tuesday, so could we make it later in the afternoon? Sure thing!
The time was set for 3 PM, or thereabouts. She would give me a call when she awakened. Yeah!
When she called, I was already on my way to Waycross, one-time home of my maternal grandparents and summertime destination for my family when we were kids. My cousin, now a grandmother herself, still lived there, though not where my mother's mom and dad once lived.
Okay, enough with the background info! Talk about y'all's lunch!
(smile)
She suggested Cavagnaros, an Italian place with lots of variety. Cool beans! A new place to add to my list of resolutions kept!
She arrived shortly after I did, with a bright smile to offset the gray skies and light drizzle. Yeah! I really think she smiled the entire time, and I did, too. Three hours we were there! The manager finally came over and asked if we would mind settling up, as our young waitress was due to leave and needed to close out our bill before she left. We did so, then probably still stayed another hour, with the manager as our tea-glass filler. Very nice!
I had the best steak tips with onions and peppers! Yum! And she had the steak salad, with the same tasty beef. We also had corn nuggets, meant as an appetizer, but there was a dinner plate full of them, served piping hot with a honey mustard sauce. I eventually took at least half that plateful home with me, as well as my untouched sweet potato (which was destined to become part of my breakfast the next day). I just finished off the corn nuggets as an accompaniment to ham and bean soup. Still tasty, still smiling!
Why? Well, lemme tell you this: wouldn't you still be smiling after a visit with someone who loves you so much? Of course you would!
It had nothing to do with our conversation. Well, no, let me amend that. Most of our conversation was catching up on the events relating to our siblings, some good, some not so good. Ah, well. You're going to have that, right? Bad choices lead to hard lives and drugs encourage bad choices.
But we also talked about her little granddaughter's first birthday and how wonderful it was to have her son and his lovely, loving wife living close to her again. And we talked about my first niece and her family and how wonderful it has been having them so close to me.
And we talked about men. We both need strong men who will love us as we are. Strong men looking for strong women. No, I'm not talking about physical strength, and neither is she. Strong in character, strong with passion, strong in acceptance and humor and love of this world. Strong like we strive to be.
Impossible things?
I hope not.
She also shared a story with me. She and another of my cousins (her little sister) had been reading one of my posts on the social media we all share. She said they were amazed by how involved i am with life in this city by the sea. So many films! Yet another new play! Dancing! Dining! Games nights with children!
Wow! I wasn't even aware they were following all of that. But it gladdened my heart to know they do. After all, that means I am loved!
That is always good to know.
I drove home with storm clouds chasing the sky alongside. Then, a break in the clouds, with sunbeams forcing their way forward! I thought I saw a smiling face and tried to capture it - drats! Missed!
Then, while watching the water paths meandering across my windshield (easily entertained am I), I took a picture of their wobbly paths.
It wasn't until I reached home that I saw it: the smiling face I had missed in the earlier shot. Woohoo!
i thank You, God! i thank the angel keeping me company as I ran back to Savannah! I would like to think my Uncle Jimmy was this funny, goofy, smiley face, thanking me for the visit to my Waycross cousin.
Then again, maybe it was Grandmama. She was always the one who traveled around from Tallahassee to Savannah and Augusta and Strong, Arkansas, keeping home fires burning.
Sometimes, she traveled with me.
Maybe this was one of those times.

seven up!

Last night at karaoke, I sang seven songs!!!
And I sand them all over a three-hour span of time!!!
Zoom zoom!!!
No, really! Usually, the biggest problem with doing karaoke is having to wait about an hour between singing the songs you gave the KJ (karaoke jock).
Seriously. Enough people want to sing that you have to wait your turn and that wait is, typically, at least 45 minutes, but more often an hour. I've sometimes had to wait even longer than that.
I know, it sounds like a really long time. But, let's do the math, shall we?
I insist.
Okay. Let's consider that most songs are about five minutes long. That should mean that you could get twelve singers per hour.
But that isn't correct. That doesn't include the time it takes for folks to come when called, to get to the stage, to get off the stage. So, in all honesty, about ten singers per hour is as much as is optimally possible.
If you're not dealing with sauntering drunks.
Which you usually are.
So... the actual number of singers in any sixty-minute period is eight. Usually.
Last night, I was able to get in a song about every twenty-five minutes... YES!
I truly enjoy singing! And here at Club One on Mondays and Tuesdays, the KJ was usually the partner of my retired swimmer friend, making it a friendly environment. On this particular Monday, however, I showed up with the peace Guy after he got off work and found that another KJ was standing in for her. But he was the very talented Stanley and he flat-out ruled at getting songs done!
I started my set with some German rock, "The Zoo." I was introduced to the Scorpions' music by my boyfriend, Mikey. He had come to Okinawa from Germany and had lots of new albums to broaden my horizons. This song was an easy way to start - and fun!
Then I sang "China Girl" for the effervescent JinHi. Yeah, i didn't do so well on the Bowie tune. Maybe I should have done "We Can Be Heroes" instead? Ah, well, spilled milk now.
Then more not-quite-right from me with "Bring Me To Life". Evanescence is awesome with this heartfelt song! I keep trying to do it, as it has meaning for me in my AD world. Notice that word: trying.
Better to go with a song I sometimes whistle in the university halls: Ozzy's (Flying High Again"! Lots of energy, fun lyrics! Nailed it!
Yeah! Love that rock and roll! Keep it comin'!
So I did. My fifth offering was some Led Zeppelin. Mind you, most of their songs have titles that hardly relate to the lyrics and the one I did, "Black Dog", is certainly one of those. But it's a classic and you'd recognize it instantly if you heard it!
By this time, I was ready to have a little fun, do something for the show-tunes crowd. A little "Hair", anyone? No, not really. That title track is a bit off-kilter to sing. Fine! So I did "Good Morning Starshine" - dooby ooby walla, dooby abba dabba, y'all!
By this time, it was almost closing time. Time for a duet with a sweet young man I'd been doing a little dancing with! Nothing like Sinatra's "New York, New York" to shake loose those last vocal chords!
What a fine evening!

And whaddaya know?
The peace Guy has even caught the karaoke flu!
He's been singing for about a month now, maybe a little longer.
My job here is done!
(smile!)

You-a very punny!

I do so wish I could claim that I devised the following bits of tongue-in-cheek-iness, but, alas, I cannot.
That credit goes to Matt Jones, creator of the weekly crossword puzzle in Connect Savannah.
This particular puzzle was titled "That's the Thinga" - Gotta it?
The puzzle appeared in the issue for 10-17 July. I didn't even pick up a copy of that one until late last night, while waiting for the peace Guy to wrap up his farewells. For whatever reason, Club One had three different issues of that entertainment paper on display.
But I digress.
As I am wont to do.
At times.
(smile)
Just a little earlier today, I was working the puzzle. I like to do those on Sundays, I don't really know why.
I just do.
And I found myself trying to rush through it, just to solve the puns!
Hahaha! Haha!
Now, time to share them with you!
(Remember to read aloud for maximum enjoyment!)

A creature that fire roasts its own pies is Pizza Dragon.

The end of a deep sleep is coma over.

The Dalai Lama is a Lhasa leader.

Jabba interviews are talks that may ask "What's it like having a palace on Tatooine?"

Xhalanque, for instance, is Maya word.
(Yeah, I had to get help for that one about the Mayan Hero Twins.)

insider information

"Dinner! Here, dinner!"
When I wrote that particular line in February, I should have added a sidebar for its origin. You see, that line - or its kin, "Supper! Here, supper! - has been part of my repertoire for many years. In fact, so much time has elapsed since it first came into being that I cannot recall even an approximation of its birth.
At this point in the game, it simply is.
My ex and I coined it and used it frequently.
Neither of us wanting to cook? "The Line" to the rescue! Out we would go in search of meals prepared by others.
Hungry and can't wait for food to be cooked? "The Line" would point us in the direction of the closest Mexican restaurant (where they feed you chips and salsa NOW) or Chinese buffet (where they allow you immediate access to ready and waiting food).
The food is on the stove and almost done? "The Line" would be trotted out to indicate that something sure was smelling good around here! How much longer until it was done?

The peace Guy and I have our own little insider joke.
We're the "dessert first" people.
Back a while ago, he and I had gone to Fiddler's Seafood with a Valpak coupon. I can't recall the specifics of the coupon, but I think it was a buy-one-entree, get-a-discount-on-another type of deal.
That evening, they were featuring peach cobbler.
Nice! Next to bread pudding, that's my dessert of choice!
One problem: it was served a la mode.
So a lactase would have to be sacrificed... or would it?
Heck no! I could get the ice cream on the side and give it to the peace Guy! Right?
Yeah! Sounded good to him!
Oh, and could we go ahead and start with dessert, instead of getting a more traditional appetizer?
Um, sure, the waiter said. We can do that.
Coolness!
And so it was done.
We had our dessert first, him eating the ice cream, me sharing some of the cobbler with him. And it was good: the food, the company, and life itself.
Later that evening, the peace Guy was at one of the hot spots on River Street with a friend who has some resemblance to me. Suddenly he hears "Hey, there are the dessert first people!" And it's the waiter from Fiddler's!
He had recognized the peace Guy, of course.
Coolness!
And so was born that tale, a tale which resurfaces from time to time, as it did today.
The peace Guy shared it at a going-away luncheon at a restaurant new to both of us. Three friends had joined us there and, as I was perusing the dessert listings, he regaled them with the tale.
Very nice!
I'm so glad we have that special shared memory!
It's so very important to have people who know me.

you just might find you get what you need

Sometimes, you think you know how things are going to go. I mean, you are sure that this particular action will produce this result.
Not necessarily so, you know.
That doesn't negate the result, though.
This gift from a loving student is a perfect example. She had been to my office several times over the past two years and knew I fancied mortar and pestle sets. I wouldn't say I collect them, but I certainly like the two I had displayed on a top shelf.
This past spring, she was taking a pottery class. She had spoken of it several times to me, so I was aware she was working with clay, making some items for family and friends.
She had asked me about my favorite colors and I had responded, as I often do, with "hot pink and dark purple." Why? Well, it goes back to commercials with the furry Pepto-Bismol monster, but I may well be the only person who recals that creature.
She made that mental note of my colors and said no more about it.
Fast-forward to the end of the semester. Final exams are done and my grades are in.
She comes to my office with this mortar and pestle. Made just for me.
She had painted the mortar a lush dark purple, the pestle a hot and loud pink.
Then she had placed the items in the kiln and the colors had transformed.
The results were not what she had envisioned for me, but she knew I would be appreciative of her efforts.
She knew I would value it because she had put a part of herself into this gift for me.
She knew how sentimental I am.
Thank you, LaNesa.
I'm going to miss you.
I do hope you will still come by to visit, wherever my new space may be.

ATL-bound, man

Every time I leave
You say you won't be there.
And you're always there.
Every time I cry your name at night,
you pull close and say it's alright.
I look in your eyes, just like the rain.
Washing me, rain wash over me.
Touching your face, I feel the heat
of your heartbeat echo in my head like a scream.
What you do to me!
Waited so long I can't wait another day without you.
Jet City Woman.
It's a long way, home to my
Jet City Woman.
I see her face everywhere, can't get her out of my mind.
Whenever I'm alone I'm thinking,
there's a part missing from my life.
Wonder where I'd be without your love
holding me together now I'm
watching the time tick, tick away.
Face grows longer every day.
Fortunes are lost on the women I've seen
but without you I can't breathe.
You're the air to me!
Waited so long, I'm all alone thinking about you.
Jet City Woman.
Got to find my way home to her.
Jet City Woman.
I see her face everywhere I look!
Jet City Woman.
Just a thousand miles and I'll be there
Jet City Woman, to make the clouds go away.
Time for some blue sky!
Waited so long now the plane's delayed
and hour, reminds me of all our days apart.
Hold on, just a little longer.
Jet City Woman.
Wonder where I'd be, you're the air to me.
Jet City Woman.
Eyes like the rain, rain down on me
Jet City, Woman.
No more nights alone I'm almost home now.
Jet City Woman.
Close my eyes, I'm there in my Jet City.
--- written by Chris DeGarmo and Geoff Tate of Queensryche

I sang this at karaoke tonight. I and the peace Guy didn't actually make it home until the place closed, so the time is not quite true on this post, but that's okay.
We had both been at a going-away party for him earlier today. The party was a wonderful gathering of friends at a lovely condo overlooking the Bull River. Spectacular view! Excellent food! Lively conversation!
We even had a nice long dip in the saltwater pool to round out the evening, followed with more conversation and the opening of gifts and the reading of jokes on popsicle sticks.
It was quite a bittersweet time for both of us. Sweet to be with others who know and love him. So very sad that he is having to go away for his job.
We hardly got home before he was wanting to go for a nightcap.
I was ahead of him on that one, so he drove to the karaoke joint where The Lady sometimes struts her stuff.
I sang this song tonight. I needed to loose some intensity and "Jet City Woman" seemed entirely appropriate.
After all, he's moving to jet city.
I am so going to miss him.

a few of my favorite things

The orchid was a gift from my Hawaiian student this past spring. I told her I hope I don't kill it, as I have a bit of a brown thumb. Don't get me wrong, I greatly enjoy plants, especially flowers. I just don't do very well at keeping them alive. This orchid was given to me the first week of May and still had blooms at the beginning of this month. Yeah!!!
The pinwheel is from Jekyll Island and has already received its fair share of space on my beach.
The view is from my office window. Oops, let me rephrase that! From my former office window. I guess I'll be holding office hours in the department's conference room this semester. Oh, well, that's not how I would have planned it, but that is how it's going to be.
The lower printout on the cabinet door is of the animated character created for the chemical element, Tungsten. The chemical symbol is derived from the name of the source of the element, a mineral known as Wolfram. That, alone, makes it one of my favorite elements. Wolfram. Nice!
The other printout is the schedule at the Fine Arts center on campus. Gotta get your cultural fix, you know? Balance is one of the keys to life. Work hard, play hard, rest hard.
Balance.

lookin' at my Gucci it's about that time

Dearest Mama,
I think the time has come to release the car.
Wait, let me be more specific. It's time to release the 2nd car your death helped me to buy. True, that first one, the Elantra from the auction yard, wasn't in my possession for very long before it went away. What a terrible decision that purchase had been! But, in my defense, you had only recently died and I truly was not sane.
Not saying I am now sane, but I'm a lot closer to that state. Mostly. Especially if you disregard my writing letters to dead people. (smile)
No blame towards my husband; bless his heart, he was trying to go along with anything I wanted, anything, if it would only make me less sad. And at the time, I wanted that green car.
So, I'm not talking about that vehicle, bought to replace my 18-year-old Subaru which I had driven for thirteen years at the time. Hmmm...that means I drove that Subaru through its terrible teens! Maybe that's why it told me one day, "Get OUT! We're DONE!" The car was all grown-up and wanted me to set it free!
Nah, I don't think that was it. The reason I had to release the Subaru was the screwdriver-in-the-carburetor trick simply wasn't working anymore and no one around this neck of the woods seemed to know how to successfully repair Surefoot's carburetor.
Anywho. On the 16th of May of 2001, Jeff and I had both been forced to buy replacement cars for our aging, no longer working models. There we were, at the Saturn dealership, chosen for four reasons. First: his mom, as a retired GM employee, could get us a discount on new vehicles. Very good! Second: Saturn had great pricing going on, with 0.9% as the finance rate. Definitely a plus! Third: we had decided to buy American-made vehicles. Saturn was made right around the corner, practically, in Tennessee. So, that was good, our money would be directly benefiting other citizens of the USA. Fourth, and not necessarily last in our considerations, Jeff knew the man in charge there, Virgil, and had high regard for him and the product. Fine by me.
And it was a very good car-buying experience! I told them I wanted a stick-shift sedan, with roll-down windows and keyed locks. I had expected them to not have any such vehicle in this world of automatics and power-everthing... but they did! And it was this gorgeous "Blue Metallic" color! Excellent!
Jeff came within the hour and found the car of his dreams, the SC3 coupe with the sunroof and the trick door. And, wonder of wonders, it, too, was Blue Metallic and manual transmission! We hadn't planned to having matching cars, but now we did, at least in color. Cool beans! Our very first new cars, ever, and they were the same color!
As you know, that was very short-lived. We drove off the lot around 10 PM on a Wednesday night; by 9 AM on Friday morning, his car was totaled by a late-shift worker driving while sleeping. If Jeff had been driving his old car, with no airbags, he would have been dead. So, thank you to you and all of the angels for that good fortune. Jeff was able to walk away from the wreck with no injuries. What a miracle!
His second brand-new car was not blue, but was still an SC3, so that was all to the good. It had been a little odd to have two blue cars of the same hue.
That was then. Now, he no longer has that car and I've been considering getting a newer model ever since last August, when the gearshift lever had the broken bushing and wouldn't shift. When the physicist and I were returning from o-HI-o and ended up stranded in Macon, Georgia. Which, as it turned out, wasn't so bad since my nephew was able to take us in for the night and had an unexpectedly free Sunday morning (the flooring job had been postponed by the owner) to ferry us to the airport to rent a car. Hmmm. Maybe you and the angels helped arrange for him to be home that night and available the next day? I am, as always, ever so grateful.
Even then, the key was having difficulties with the ignition. Again. Sometimes, it turned easily; other times, not so much. You would have to hold your mouth just right. (smile)
I knew it was having problems, but I went up to Pennsylvania anyway. Melaness had waited all year for me to come and I had promised I would. So, I did, right after the 4th of July. Celebrating my independence, you know. (smile)
That was all fine and good! The car sat in the driveway for almost all of the four days I was there. Then, on the Tuesday, off I went to Virginia, to visit family and friends for a few days. Still, no real problems, but a bit more dicey to turn that key in the ignition. I made it to Historic Powhatan, near Williamsburg, and got checked in and unpacked. I even went to the grocery store that night without mishap.
Wednesday morning, I could not turn the car on. The key would not budge. At all.
Bummer.
Not to fret, though. Tuesday's drive, and the odd visit with the former Marine in Fredericksburg, had been a bit wearing on me, so it was nice to have been forced to take a day off. Amazingly, the resort even had activities I participated in (a Colonial dance party on the front lawn, followed by a live band by the pool) AND provided me with a half-priced dinner, in the form of happy-hour specials at the onsite bar and grill. A platter of chicken tenders, served with mayonnaise, and a platter of yummy, garlicky fries! Good!
The next morning, the key worked like a charm and off I went to the Mariners' Museum for several hours. "Abandon Ship!" was full of life-saving tips and sad tales. "The War of 1812," done in comic-relief style with pop culture references, informed and entertained. "Fragile Waters," with black-and-white documentation of waterways in the western United States, of the ocean, and in the New England states by Adams, Brooks, and Monnelly. What a fabulous way to spend time!
I then left for my visit with Cousin Michelle and her family and Auntie and Uncle in Yorktown. I had a wonderful time with the girls, playing "Mario" something on the wii, then catching up with the grown-ups. I even ate two slices of Domino's pizza - and three lactase pills! - and thoroughly enjoyed it! At the end of the evening, I got back in the car and, thankfully, the key turned with no problem. Yeah!
The next morning, exactly one week after my departure from Savannah, I was on the road for points south. I was careful to walk from my unit to registration to check out, not wanting to chance burning up too many starts with my key. Even when Australian Nuvi led me to the Jamestown-Scotland Ferry, I was careful to not turn the key all the way off, for fear of being stuck on the ferry.
When I was South of the Border, I stopped to feed the car, again not turning the key off. But I needed to feed me, too, and certainly could not leave my key in the ignition...right? Right. And I was almost stranded there... but the key finally turned and the engine sprang to life. Whew! I successfully, and safely, arrived home, unpacked the car, and headed to a local noodle place with the peace Guy for dinner. And we almost got stranded there. I couldn't turn the key. He reached over and it turned and home we went.
That was it, too. No more turning by that key. Certainly no more turning by the old key.
For a few days, that was fine. There was plenty to do around the house and the housemate has been very generous with taking me to the grocery store or out to karaoke.
Still, after a few days of waiting, waiting, waiting for the GM computer with the key codes to return online, I was starting to get antsy. My sense of independence was definitely threatened.
The GM man had suggested that the key code might be on the original paperwork from buying the car. Twelve years ago. Yeah, I should still have that - probably not! So, yesterday morning, after breakfast, I dug out the car files and started plowing through them. No sales invoice for the car, but I did find the huge sticker decals that had been on my car, as well as both of Jeff's cars. Incredible, right? So, I'm showing them to the peace Guy and talking about how these were the first new cars Jeff and I had ever had. He replies that's he's 49 and has never had a new car and I say I was 43 before I did...and immediately I started falling apart. I could feel the tidal wave of emotion slam into me and drag me under, but I made it to the safety of the shower before the sobs hit full force.
There's no way I could have explained to him that the reason I was able to get a new car was because you had died.
Those words were not possible for me.
He was preoccupied with party preparations, so I considered that as a break for me. I had managed to get out of the dining room without raining on his parade, so to speak. After the shower, I dressed and left the house, saying I was going to the park to sit on a swing. He was busy with brownies for a different party, so I again escaped without having to talk, allowing me to keep a tight rein on my emotional state.
I don't know why I thought the park would be deserted, as many kids as there are in this neighborhood. I didn't even see them at first, under the shelter of the picnic area. Then, the sprays of water at the basketball court caught my gaze and held it.
Water.
Not saltwater, but, still, water.
My path turned toward the gently arching streams, the water glistening in the sun, the drops singing as they hit the pavement. I almost ran to get into it, ditching my shoes and phone, but rushing, fully clad, into the cool water. Such release! Then, a Bob Marley tune started playing in my head and I found myself slowly dancing into and out of and through the continuous rain of fresh water.
I found myself beginning to feel much better. Maybe, indeed, "every little thing gonna be all right." This song was a gift to me - from you? Or, now that I think about it, perhaps from Daddy? The song would certainly be more likely to be one of his favorites.
I am blessed to have y'all as angels to look after my mental health.
I am.
But I'd rather have you still as flesh and blood mortals.
Sigh. Impossible things.
So. As I was saying, I found myself relaxing and the tightly coiled knots of emotion gave way to the gentle pressure of the song and the spray and the dance. And it was all mine for at least thirty minutes.
Incredible.
When a young mother and her children did come to the basketball court shower, I was ready to be sociable again. I pointed out to the children the tiny rainbows and glittering brightness of the drops as they fell. Magical! The little girl asked me to show her how to dance in the glimmer of falling water and I encouraged her to find her own steps, maybe to a song she knew. "Row, row, row your boat" came to mind and soon we were both twirling!
After an hour of water therapy, I took my cue to leave when they did. I went home and started mowing the back yard and the housemate went to work. A little later, the GM man called to say the website was still down, but recommended I call a locksmith that made house calls. So I did. And he came, he saw, he verified what I already knew: the ignition cylinder needed to be replaced. Again.
At least it had worked for seven years this time.
I put in a call to the GM man, leaving my request on his voice mail. Might they have the part in stock? If so, or if not, would he please call me in the morning and let me know?
Then I settled in to wait for the new day, as naught else could be done.
And, after a phone call to my first niece started me crying again, I started looking at cars online. The credit union has a low auto loan rate right now and a long list of cars to finance.
A very long list.
I narrowed it down to just sedans.
Still, a very long list. I spent hours wading through, looking at just those which had manual transmissions, just those available in blues and greens and oranges, just those which had trunks.
I narrowed it down to 22.
Today, the key turned and I picked up the in-stock part and the fabulously friendly locksmith got it installed and even made two keys for me. He even showed me what was wrong on the old cylinder.
Very nice.
But it may still be time to buy another car.
So, I'll keep the list handy for a while.
Now, I'm going for a ride.
with much love always!
ykw

bras, from a different perspective

A Chinese guy goes into a Jewish-owned establishment to buy black bras, size 38. The Jewish store keeper, known for his skills as a businessman, says that black bras are rare and that he is finding it very difficult to buy them from his suppliers. Therefore he has to charge $50.00 for them. The Chinese guy buys 25 pairs.
He returns a few days later and this time orders fifty.
The Jewish owner tells him that they have become even harder to get and charges him $60.00 each. The Chinese guy returns
a month later and buys the store's remaining stock of 50, and this time for $75.00 each.
The Jewish owner is somewhat puzzled by the large demand for black size 38 bras and asks the Chinese guy, "...please tell me - What do you do with all these black bras?"
The Chinese guy answers: "I cut them in half and sell them as skull caps to Jewish men for $200.00 each."

The above joke reminds me of a scene in one of my favorite movies, "How To Train Your Dragon". The father, Stoick, is welcoming his son, Hiccup, into the world of dragon slaying and presents him with a helmet, fitted with large horns to either side and an exact copy of the father's own helmet.
"Your mother would have wanted you to have it. It's half of her breastplate."
He adds, as he taps his own helmet, "matching set."
Of course, when you understand that these Vikings are fairly isolated in their island community, then recycling or repurposing of already fashioned goods is a way of life. Nothing should be discarded until it is falling apart, and even then it could be used as fuel.
Having said that, I do wish to add that there was a sentimental reason for reuse of the mother's breastplate as headgear.
"Keeps her... keeps her close, you know."
Yeah. I've always had a soft spot for teddy bear hearts in grizzly bear bodies.

blue, blue, my world is blue

Old songs sometimes spring to mind, songs from a childhood so very long ago, far from the present time of responsibility and deadlines and finances.
This photograph was taken on the tail edge of a summer storm, on the tail edge of a summer day.
No special effects were used, no tricks to enhance colors.
Just the natural fade of the light, facing eastward as the day slipped quietly into twilight.
i thank You, God.

buy some shades or cheap sunglasses

It seems like the end of an era.
I had known for some time that the cheap sunglasses would not make it through the summer. Heck, in all honesty, they hadn't made it through the spring. Still, I persisted in wearing them, training my eyes to see through the increasingly scratched lenses.
You know how stubborn I can be, the crazy amount of importance I can attach to inanimate objects.
Such as these cheap sunglasses.
I originally had received them at a Sand Gnats' game. A free promotional item, courtesy of that night's sponsor, a free paper which listed ads for everything from yard sales to jobs. I had originally intended to slip them into my glove box, as a back-up pair of shades. Nothing to be worn continuously, you see.
Instead, the sunglasses had ended up in a drawer in the bureau, waiting for some use to be made of them. They waited for years. Years. Perhaps even a decade.
After all, I had some snazzy new "movie star" shades I was sporting, with bits of sparkly stone in the corners of the large, brown-tinted frames. These shades were replacements for the cat's eye-lens, black-framed "movie star" shades I had worn for years. The row of little jewels set into the browline of the frame had sufficient missing stones that the gaps detracted greatly from the glamour. I gave that pair of shades to my bff's daughter (who, as I recall, promptly lost them) and started wearing the new pair purchased from a Chinese restaurant at which my stepmom and I had lunched.
Unfortunately, those shades were made of a more brittle plastic. They graced my face for only a few months before the frames shattered, rendering them useless. Drats!
What to do? The day was sunny and my eyes needed protection now. Plus, it happened to be a school day, meaning I had no time for plowing through racks of eyewear in search of a replacement pair.
And I remembered the ones in the drawer, still in their plastic sleeve, waiting. Fine, they would have to do!
They have done, too. The bright neon-green against my dark hair made it easy for my students to spot me across campus, to come ask me "just one more question." They thought I must be "cool", too; after all, none of their other professors wore such youthful eyewear.
Anyone looking for me in a crowd just had to espy those nearly-fluorescing sidearms to find me. That was very helpful when I was in a large group of people, at the beach, at loud concerts, in crowded restaurants, at the ball games. Even in other countries! I had worn the sunglasses on the trip to Italy last year and any stragglers had no fear of losing sight of the group as long as they could spot my neon green eyewear or butterfly-bedecked totebag.
That neon green even helped me after the trip! Our travel bunch had formed a social page to share pictures and I could easily spot myself in the photographs taken by the future nurses. Very nice!
And so I had continued to wear them, scratched lenses and all. The frames were actually in very good shape, still qs sturdy as they ever were. That, no doubt, is part of the reason I persisted in wearing them. They fit just fine and still looked as they ever had, so why give them up?
Well, no more. I realized this morning, as I departed Williamsburg for points south that I was tilting my head to better adjust my line of sight through the least-scratched edges of the lenses.
Seriously.
There are no words for that kind of crazy.
I actually had to break the sidearms off from the body of the sunglasses.
When I reached home, I arranged the pieces and took the above picture to post with this entry.
But I found it difficult to actually throw away the three pieces. Why? Well, maybe I could put them into a scrapbook for the trip to Italy? Sure, that might one day happen, even though more than a year has now elapsed since the trip.
Maybe there would one day be a cure for badly scratched and scuffed lenses? Sure, for eyes. Not for sunglasses. For those, you would need to buy replacement lenses.
Oh, hey, I might do that some day!
Really?
Really???
No.
Into the trash they went.
Meanwhile, I had bought a new pair of shades just recently down in my favorite place in Florida.
You get three guesses what color they are.
(smile)

sea poetry

These two poems accompanied two of the many black and white photographs which graced the "Fragile Waters" exhibit at the Mariners' Museum in Virginia. The exhibit was less than a month old and is only scheduled to remain until Labor Day of this year.
As much as I enjoyed the captured images, I also enjoyed the sidebars. Sometimes, the photographer added a little background or explanation of the work before me. Sometimes, these little poems or quotes from other artists would appear.
I am so glad I take the time to read the plaques by the displays!
You should, too.
Try it, you'll like it!

cheers! (Anyone speak Belgian?)

Who would have expected a Belgian restaurant in a tiny town like Carlisle? Not I!
Yet, there it was, in the heart of downtown, down the street from the cannon-blasted columns of the courthouse. (But that is another story.)
Café Bruges is small, but not too small. We were part of an early group of diners, but we were spread out all over the restaurant to maximize privacy. Very nice! We had started with a flight of their summer beer selections and the tastes ranged from a a banana dessert-style beer, greatly enjoyed by the Melaness to a hoppy pale for her hubby, and a third pale which we all enjoyed. But my absolute favorite was the Bourgogne des Flandres.
Oh, my! So rich and plummy! So smooth and full-bodied! The Bourgogne was almost a wine, it seemed, due to its aging in oak barrels. Dreamy!!! Dark in color, delightful to the nose and tongue and head! I drank the glass of it in the flight, then ordered a bottle to accompany my dinner. To my surprise, it even had a special glass to enhance its bouquet and the drinking experience... wow!!!
My dinner was one of the specials that night. Delicately-grained meatloaf, topped with a light cherry sauce. Ah, melted in my mouth! The entree was accompanied by parsleyed new potatoes and perfectly prepared green beans. The rest of the group had the lamb burger (the driving motivator for our trip to this site) and mussels.
Such a good recommendation by my dear friends! I look forward to more encounters with Belgian cuisine - and dark Belgian brews!

eis kald lemon drinka

Today, Melaness and I and her hubby did something a little different: we went to the Kutztown Folk Festival! Actually, I was the only one who found it to be different, as they had gone several years ago.
This was the 65th year of the festival and the generosity of the people there was evident from the moment we parked. Several folks came up, offering us the $3 discount passes and one woman even gave us an adult pass! Nice! Then, because of my new age, my ticket was another $2 off. Sah-weet!
There was hoe-downing by the Miller family - aka square-dancing and clogging - and the Sonon Brothers making hay into rectangular bales. Harry Serio educated us on the spirituality of the Mennonites while Leroy Brown and Bill Meck translated jokes in the Pennsylvania Dutch language. There were hex signs and peppermint oils and repurposed tin ornaments elaborate puzzles from different woods.
There was even a Quilt Barn, housing the hundreds of quilts for sale during the festival. Several of the quilts even had ocean and fish themes! One design was fairly simple, consisting of a single, simple line, fish in a four-square space, repeated in different colors to compose the quilt. It certainly would require a lot of sewing, but then again, so do ALL quilts! I know from experience!
In my early 20's, I made a quilted travel pillow for my Grandmama, using remnants from some of the dance clothes I had made. The color scheme was a white background with a starburst of shades of pink. That pillow took quite a while to make! Every moment of that time was well worth it, too. I have the pillow now and can still feel the love I stitched into it for her.
But let's not overlook the FOOD available at the festival! Pierogi with horseradish dipping sauce! Grilled, thick slabs of sweet bologna, with mustard of your choice! A tall, cool pitcher of birch beer to quench the thirst of tired walkers! Yum, yum, yum!!!
And that's just what I ate! There were grilled brats and wursts and roasted ox! Corn fritters and funnelcakes and shoofly pies and apple dumplings! Even sarsasparilla and orange drinka and lemon drinka!
Yep, I had one of those, too, that lemon drinka. I had hesitated to do so, expecting something absurdly sweet. Nope! The juice of three large lemons, pressed right before my eyes, then the addition of ... club soda? Something fizzy, but not sweet. Very refreshing!!!
The photo above is the only one that still exists, of all the ones I took that day. You'll notice that no faces are showing. Although I had tried to be careful, perhaps the other pictures did have recognizable people in them. I don't know, I only know they never reached my email address. I had assumed they had, so I had deleted them from my phone, all except the one for the lemon drinka.
Ah, well. That was the one I most wanted, so all is well!

dream so real

I would have sworn that I was held this morning as I slept.
I had awakened earlier, then gone back to bed, but not to sleep. Tossing and turning, I tried my usual tricks to regain slumber. Start on my right side, until I'm drifting, then roll over to the left to the land of Nod.
Nope. I was still awake.
Try it again. Slow the breath, bring the sheet over my head for a little extra darkness, let the mind go blank.
No. No, no, no. This was not working. And I was to leave for Pennsylvania today and would need to be rested.
And, as I lay there, with the sheet partially covering my face, I thought I felt someone come and lie down against my back, then drape an arm under my own and pull me near.
I didn't dare open my eyes for fear that I would find I was dreaming.
I didn't want the sensation of being held to be proved false.
Yet, it had to be... right?
No.
I chose to believe it to be true and snuggled into the embrace, relaxing into the deep, and not stirring until my alarm clock signaled the time for me to rise.
No one was there with me. I woke alone.
I wanted to talk to the peace Guy about the sensation, but I couldn't. Instead, I found myself fighting back tears.
I want touch.
Not sex.
Touch.
Is it really so impossible to have one without the other?
Sex would be good, too, but that comes with so many expectations and baggage. Also, it would be breaking one of my laws, as brothers, whether by blood or by choice, are out of consideration.
But why would it be wrong for two friends to cuddle while watching tv at the end of a night? Why would it be wrong for those two friends to hold each other while they slept, to wake up next to a smiling face? Why must the solace of such comforting touch only be obtained through sex with strangers?
The situation makes no sense to me, makes me crazy.
The situation makes me very sad.
For now, I need to leave.
Maybe I can talk about it when I return home in a week.
Maybe.
Probably not.
And that makes me sad, too.

baby, you can sleep while I drive

Okay, so I fudged the time of the posting of this entry.
We actually pulled into my first niece's driveway about thirty minutes later as we returned from a full afternoon and evening at Jekyll Island. The children, exhausted from a day in the sun and surf, were sleeping soundly in the back seat as soon as we hit the highway. Even my niece, riding shotgun, was sleeping.
It was really nice.
We had all ventured down for the release of the loggerhead, Hugue, a newly rehabilitated patient of the turtle hospital at the Georgia Sea Turtle Center. After more than two years of care, she was finally seaworthy again. Yeah!
And what better time for her release than the date which coincides with our celebration of our nation's freedom? Indeed!
And how better to celebrate than with fireworks several hours later, as the night sky darkened and the stars twinkled? Fireworks over our beach, with the fireworks of Brunswick and Saint Simon's Island visible behind and to the side of our own! Fireworks for more than twenty minutes in three directions!
Yes, it has been a magical time I have spent with this family for the last two evenings, complete with fireworks on each night! Such a lovely end to my 55 days of birthday!