Mary and I got back last night from a trip to visit my mother in Florida. It was good to see Ma, and the trip was an adventure.
Below are a few anecdotes.
Below are a few anecdotes.
I'm glad our Minneapolis to Tampa flight didn't have an air marshall aboard. I was so slap happy that I got so uncontrollably amused by this sight across the aisle that I was snorting and snotting like an idiot trying to keep from laughing out loud that the marshall may have mistaken my mirth for a fit or some kind of religious experience and felt the need to subdue me. When I get time I'd like to tell you about Teddy Bear across the aisle, a friendly, jolly 430 pound composite of Refrigerator Perry and Al Roker. Here's a picture of part of him.
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Here we (Mary and I) are with Ma, basking in the warmth and flowers in front of her building in Florida, and showing off the new shirt I bought for $3 at a thrift store (makes me look like a barber with little, bitty short legs) and having dinner at a restaurant with one of Ma's friends and that lady's daughter, also visiting. All of us were able to order half portions at the seniors' discount. Woot! Woot!
Since we couldn't take much shampoo aboard the plane flying down here I've been hanging on to my tiny bottle of the stuff and using the shampoo Ma has in her shower stall. I was going to buy a new bottle, but realize that we'll have some Italian salad dressing left over when we leave, which we can't take on the plane either. Do you think if I peel the label off and leave the bottle in the shower Ma will notice? Has anybody ever showered with a nice vinaigrette? Does it create a soft loft, or might it make her hair all fly-away frizzy? Highlights?
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Ma insisted I make eggs benedict for breakfast this morning. Even though I'm trying to lose weight I made myself a small portion. Guess it's okay, as I've discovered how to lose weight at a rapid rate since we got to Florida. If Ma's scale is accurate I've dropped about eight pounds in the last few days.
Here's the secret - drive in Florida. Almost every day we read about somebody who floors the wrong pedal and smashes into a farmers market. Now, just imagine yourself in the middle of these same people, three abreast, bumper to bumper plummeting down the Interstate at 75 MPH.
Yesterday we set off to explore Longboat Key. Picture me strapping myself into a rental car with more gauges and gadgets than the cockpit in the plane we were grounded in for two hours in Minneapolis - the one that took two hours to get programmed to fly again. Beside me, a menopausal wife rattling a map and in the back seat an 86-year-old hippy trying to remember the landmarks she saw 20 years ago.
I was reminded several times that it wasn't raining, so the windshield wipers weren't necessary (it was sprinkling lightly and I was very proud that I figured out how to turn them on and set them for a slow intermittent flash across the glass). And, of course, any damn fool (so I was told) knows that it's a lot easier to drive if you set the cruise control.
The first big intersection option we came to the map rattler said to turn right and go east. That was at the big sign that had a huge arrow pointing left and saying east. The backseat hippy told me to go straight ahead and keep driving till I come to the Gulf of Mexico.
So after I turned left the pilot turned the map upside down and the hippy said we weren't at the Gulf of Mexico yet.
That was only the start. Eventually I turned my hearing aids down and just drove along. Whenever I came to an interesting looking intersection I just turned - trying to somewhat evenly alternate right turns and left turns.
Along the way we came to a nice looking public beach. I knew I was in trouble when I saw that we could turn in on both the left and the right sides. So I turned right, knowing that I'd never get to park. Hadn't even slowed down before the backseat adviser said, "Are you sure you don't want to be on the other side?"
The other side was very pretty. We had a nice walk on the beach. The sun was bright and the temperature was 88F.
Eventually we drove home where we all agreed it had been a lovely day, and Ma took a nap.
I had planned not to say anything about this until we were long gone from Florida, but I have a few minutes to spare after downing my breakfast, so...
(Ha, ha. In case you see this, Ma, I'm only joking. I'm talking about somebody else).
SUCCESS: Yesterday I lost about five pounds.
Bye.
Here's the secret - drive in Florida. Almost every day we read about somebody who floors the wrong pedal and smashes into a farmers market. Now, just imagine yourself in the middle of these same people, three abreast, bumper to bumper plummeting down the Interstate at 75 MPH.
Yesterday we set off to explore Longboat Key. Picture me strapping myself into a rental car with more gauges and gadgets than the cockpit in the plane we were grounded in for two hours in Minneapolis - the one that took two hours to get programmed to fly again. Beside me, a menopausal wife rattling a map and in the back seat an 86-year-old hippy trying to remember the landmarks she saw 20 years ago.
I was reminded several times that it wasn't raining, so the windshield wipers weren't necessary (it was sprinkling lightly and I was very proud that I figured out how to turn them on and set them for a slow intermittent flash across the glass). And, of course, any damn fool (so I was told) knows that it's a lot easier to drive if you set the cruise control.
The first big intersection option we came to the map rattler said to turn right and go east. That was at the big sign that had a huge arrow pointing left and saying east. The backseat hippy told me to go straight ahead and keep driving till I come to the Gulf of Mexico.
So after I turned left the pilot turned the map upside down and the hippy said we weren't at the Gulf of Mexico yet.
That was only the start. Eventually I turned my hearing aids down and just drove along. Whenever I came to an interesting looking intersection I just turned - trying to somewhat evenly alternate right turns and left turns.
Along the way we came to a nice looking public beach. I knew I was in trouble when I saw that we could turn in on both the left and the right sides. So I turned right, knowing that I'd never get to park. Hadn't even slowed down before the backseat adviser said, "Are you sure you don't want to be on the other side?"
The other side was very pretty. We had a nice walk on the beach. The sun was bright and the temperature was 88F.
Eventually we drove home where we all agreed it had been a lovely day, and Ma took a nap.
I had planned not to say anything about this until we were long gone from Florida, but I have a few minutes to spare after downing my breakfast, so...
(Ha, ha. In case you see this, Ma, I'm only joking. I'm talking about somebody else).
SUCCESS: Yesterday I lost about five pounds.
Bye.
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On Longboat Key, I noticed on our drive yesterday a sign saying, "Bird sanctuary. No hunting." That seemed weird. Although the place has its charm, it's chock full of condos and houses and other developments so thick that for miles and miles you can only once in awhile catch a glimpse of the ocean 50 yards away. I wondered where a person might hunt and was left supposing that maybe residents just sit on their balconies and pick off pelicans or shoot the shithawks that land on their beach.
I've been a lifelong hunter, so in keeping with the theme I bought this pair of shorts with this tag when we got back to town. Never can tell when I'll spot a trophy alligator on the golf course pond and the residence where Ma lives has a strict dress code for the dining room. I wouldn't dare try to get a seat there with blood and slime on my pants. Just two nights ago Ma almost had a heart attack when she caught me taking a shot glass full of walnuts back to her apartment. I got the stern lecture, "You can't do that! You're not allowed to take food out of the dining room!" She snatched it out of my hands and immediately hid it in the secret compartment in her walker where the bread, rolls, soup crackers, and little pats of butter from the neighbor's table were stashed.
I've been a lifelong hunter, so in keeping with the theme I bought this pair of shorts with this tag when we got back to town. Never can tell when I'll spot a trophy alligator on the golf course pond and the residence where Ma lives has a strict dress code for the dining room. I wouldn't dare try to get a seat there with blood and slime on my pants. Just two nights ago Ma almost had a heart attack when she caught me taking a shot glass full of walnuts back to her apartment. I got the stern lecture, "You can't do that! You're not allowed to take food out of the dining room!" She snatched it out of my hands and immediately hid it in the secret compartment in her walker where the bread, rolls, soup crackers, and little pats of butter from the neighbor's table were stashed.
Back home in Sioux Lookout after an absolutely wonderful visit with my mother in Florida.
I have been told that some of my postings may be slightly exaggerated, or worse. I even overheard a conversation that seemed to have something to do with pants on fire, whatever that means.
My business card claims I'm a raconteur. In a general way, that means simply "story teller." More bluntly, it means "big fat liar."
Do I have a story or two for you...
I have been told that some of my postings may be slightly exaggerated, or worse. I even overheard a conversation that seemed to have something to do with pants on fire, whatever that means.
My business card claims I'm a raconteur. In a general way, that means simply "story teller." More bluntly, it means "big fat liar."
Do I have a story or two for you...
