Horse Sense

I love going to see my two grandsons in St. Petersburg, FL, (a place where the saying is, Be Prepared to Be Pleasantly Surprised, and  I've never been let down on this). With one I demonstrated how to get the advantage when playing basketball by tickling your opponent’s armpit. It works great when I’m playing my very ticklish, energetic 4 year old grandson, Jude.  

I also got invited to go on a field trip with another grandson, Shane, to Noah’s Ark, a farm in Odessa with about 30 autistic kids and their teachers and parents. My son Paul teaches these kids and he selected the ones that would ride with me and warned me that along with autism can come some unexpected disruptive behaviors. I assured him that I’d driven him and his siblings and friends around so I could probably handle it.

Noah’s Ark is pretty much a petting farm with lots of farm animals and a couple of huge tortoises. We stayed mostly on the ten acres that are home to the main house, barn and animal pens, bathroom, pond, and picnic area. The surrounding acreage is the range for the horses and other animals that need more room to run. Farmer Ben greeted us upon arrival and set up the ground rules, petting all animals is allowed, hand washing is required after each petting area, keep hands and fingers out of all animal mouths, and no chasing. We started with brushing and petting goats and sheep and progressed around through chickens, ducks, geese, bunnies, pigs, tortoises (yep, we got to pet them too) and finally got to the horses. I love horses and although I’ve had limited experience with horses I've always felt comfortable around them and up to this point had good rapport with them. This time started out no different. I looked into the eye of one of these intelligent creatures and he looked at me as if to size up my intentions. He nodded his head to me once and allowed me a quick pet to his neck. Then he walked away, ignoring me completely, as he headed straight for the children that were gathering at the fence. I was in awe at how in tune the horse was to the needs of these special students and their instant connection as he remained steadfastly at the fence allowing the kids to pet him and even putting himself in reach of the smallest of them, so much so that I later confided to my husband that the horse didn’t find me special at all. He said, “Teachers are special in a different way. They are the rare folks that also sense the needs of special people and children.” I think he was on to something. Maybe teachers of have horse sense too. I also discovered that Farmer Ben’s Noah’s Ark farm is a foster home for children with medical needs. Kudos to all of the people that with unconditional love and horse sense help make our world a better place for these special kids and thanks for all they do.

As far as disruptive behavior goes, the trip went off without any unless you count the hay throwing during the hayride. I wasn't surprised by it, my son, Paul, the teacher, was the instigator. He started it! 

The Affair

The affair began with a chance meeting as affairs so often do. I was tired of my same old routine and K was perky and best of all, hot. K smelled really good too. No, it wasn't love at first sight but there was an unmistakable, undeniable attraction, and let’s face it, isn't that how these things always begin. K filled a need in me that was there lurking under the surface just waiting to be filled. And once I gave in and got over my inhibitions the relationship got steamy. I met K in Palm Shores, a little town that cares, near Melbourne Florida. I was there for less than a week staying at my son’s house to help take my grandson to and from school since my son had to work and my daughter-in-law was away. Maybe I just had too much time on my hands while Brody was in school. Maybe it was the walks on the beach. Maybe it was inevitable. My husband had been working out of the country for almost a year, there was that, and I knew that was no excuse but it was the excuse I told myself. The mind rationalizes so the body can take what it needs and I needed K. Alas our affair was short lived and this was a given. Knowing our paths might never cross again, and the allure of forbidden fruit, only served to make our affair more rich and intense. I knew the merest hint of the aroma of pumpkin spice would always trigger fondest memories.

By the time I arrived back home in St. Marys, I’d also arrived at the decision to confess my indiscretion.  Video chat on SKYPE didn't seem as impersonal as an email and it was as close to face to face as I could get. As soon as I began, all the details just poured out. When I finished baring my soul I paused, looked my husband in the eyes, and left him with what in hindsight seemed like an ultimatum, “Love me, love my coffee……” and here is where we lost our connection, “…maker.” I blamed Keurig, on line shopping, almost instant gratification, hot-bold-tall or short-and sweet. I no longer felt any stirring desire for old Mr. Coffee and in fact I ignored him and just left him on the shelf.

Though Mr. Coffee may find himself in a garage sale this spring, for me this post has a happy ending. My husband forgave me and I found an email the very next morning from him with the tracking information for my own Keurig, on its way home to me in St. Marys. Now my affair with my Keurig won’t ever have to end……. But lately it’s the merest hint of the aroma of gingerbread coffee that makes me smile in anticipation. 

The Nocturnal Mr. O.

It seems like every year when the weather in South Georgia turns frosty my chickens and I can count on a nocturnal visitor. Equipped with a pouch instead of a sack, I am not talking about Santa, a certain Mr. or Mrs. O. Possum (colloquially called a possum) makes an appearance looking for fresh eggs, dropped dog kibble, or just a warm porch to hang out on, your guess is as good as mine. I figure the pickings are as good in my yard as any because if a possum can’t find any of the aforementioned comforts there are plenty of things including scattered pecked over chicken feed, fresh water, and any number of insects and grubs just waiting to be part of a tasty possum treat. The porch was warm enough to invite two hens to take up roost for the night on my husband’s old desk, a fixture on the porch since our house fire a few years ago. I wondered if chickens dream when they are asleep because although those two went to sleep on the porch, they woke up the next morning back in the coop with the rest of the flock. That’s one of the good things about having chickens. They are hard to catch when they are awake but easily moved about once they fall asleep. I know I digress but as far as I know they never even saw our nocturnal visitor, Mr. O. Possum.

In the past I've been able to run off a possum from the front porch by pouring a pot of water on him and the banging loudly on the pot with a wooden spoon. Of course he only ambled as far away as the culvert that runs under the road at the corner of our front yard so I had to take up all night cat food snacks to further discourage his return. My grandkids saw a possum sleeping in a Leyland Cyprus in our side yard once but the tree didn't survive our house fire and the grandkids aggravated that possum into leaving long before that. Those sightings had the distinct advantage of not being anywhere near my chickens. My girls have managed to kill a couple of snakes, glass lizards, and a rat but a possum is another animal all together.

Possums are the only non-primate mammal with opposable thumbs. Theirs are on their back feet and useful mostly for tree climbing so you are not likely to see a possum opening a pickle jar with its hind feet and prehensile tail. Possums do have more teeth than any other mammal and instead of playing possum when our dog, Fred, cornered Mr. O. on our back porch he gave us a good view of all of them. I tried throwing water at him but all he got was wet and, dare I say, madder than a wet hen! A lot of growling and hissing ensued until I was able to get a leash on Fred and drag him back in the house. With the aid of a broom, Mr. O was persuaded to amble off into the darkness. Knowing he’d be hanging around (high in the pine trees in my back yard during the day) made me realize that Mr. O. would have to be trapped and relocated far from my chickens because after all my backyard is what a possum lawyer (and my husband) would call an attractive nuisance, especially attractive to possums on chilly South Georgia nights.

Enticed by the scent of cat food Mr. O. Possum walked into the trap the very next night under the watchful eye of our cat, Sherbie (short for Orange Sherbet) from his perch on the fence. It was too dark to be sure but I figure old Sherb’s tail was swishing back and forth like a clock cat’s tail as he watched confused marsupial try to find an escape. When my granddaughter, Julie, saw the possum (in the trap) going out the door the next day to be transported for relocation, she gushed about how cute he was and asked, “Can we keep him?”

I replied, “No, but you never know when we’ll get visit from another friend or relative of the nocturnal Mr. O.”

Teacher turned blogger!

First off, I retired from teaching after (almost) 30 years and decided to try my hand, two index fingers actually, at writing. Yes, I use a computer because it’s hard to hold a pen with two index fingers. And no, I don’t worry about typing because it’s not really typing these days, it’s called keyboarding and I manage well enough with two index fingers, spell check, and the green squigglies that let me know I've made a grammatical error that needs correcting. You might think I had a lot of writing practice as a teacher what with writing lesson plans and teaching the writing process and all, and I did, just not exactly the kind of practice I needed for what I considered serious writing! When I started out I conquered my first episode of writer’s block by writing sentences beginning with words from a list used in a game of Words with Friends. I then did what every fourth grade teacher wants her students to do with sentences using their spelling words. I put them together to make a story and it grew into a book, Play on words.

This brings me to a blog I write, similarly named, playonwords2012@blogspot.com , that provides me with the daily writing practice I need to continue to sharpen my skills as a serious writer. By the time this goes to press (if it goes to press) I will have created 50 posts about a range of topics chosen at whim during my travels to Andros (to spend time with my husband, Arnie) and back (home-St. Marys, Ga) with stops all over Florida and South Georgia to see our grandchildren in between. As I mentioned to the editor (of AUTEC’s monthly publication) when I considered submitting this article, my blog post about the Chickcharney (the critter-not the paper) has been my most frequently viewed post. It got even more views than my post about Whale Sex and I will admit that I was surprised by that. I must also tell the truth here and let you know that I don’t always tell the truth in my blog (Does this make me an oxymoron?). One example is a post I wrote about nudging a shark out of my way with my elbow while swimming at CCBeach, a lie that continues to grow more complicated to this day. I’m sure you know someone (like me) who can’t admit the truth once the lie has been told! However, I do occasionally wax poetic (Haiku) on serious topics, but mostly not, so if you’re on line and tired of looking at the same old news feeds feel free to check out my blog.                   

I guess if you're reading this you are!                                                                                                

A Ray of Sunshine for Rays

I was reading an article on MSN that called manta rays pandas of the oceans. They mentioned little specifically about why they came up with that designation but I figure part of it has to do with the manta ray’s counter shade coloring, white on the underside and black on top. This type of coloring works as a form of camouflage hiding mantas from hungry predators looking at them from above or below. Manta rays also spend a lot of their time grazing on plankton and other small oceanic organisms as peaceably as pandas munching bamboo. Also like pandas, scientists are worried about mantas dwindling numbers in the wild expanses of the oceans and are wondering how close they are to being endangered since their numbers are hard to verify. The latest craze is to hunt them for their gill rakers and discard the rest of them (think huge sharks being harvested for a single fin).

Unlike other rays, most notably the sting ray, mantas don’t come equipped with venomous tail barbs. The manta is a really big (up to 25 feet in length) free ocean swimmer (and sometimes frolicker, leaping and breaching the ocean’s surface) and stingrays and other small rays hang out in shallow coastal, temperate waters moving with the sway of the tide as they munch on mollusks like clams, oysters, and mussels. These smaller bottom feeders camouflage themselves to match the sand they hide in. If you frequent Florida’s and Bahamas’ beaches you are probably familiar with the sting ray shuffle. As you shuffle your feet when wading you give the rays a fair warning so they have time to swim out of your way, thus keeping you out of their way (harm’s way if you've ever suffered a painful sting).

Unlike Steve Irwin (who suffered a fatal sting) and my son Neil (who suffered a non-fatal but still extremely painful sting), I have never been stung in any of my experiences with any kinds rays, from petting them at Tropicana Field in St. Petersburg, the Tampa Aquarium, Sea Life Park on Oahu, or Jacksonville Zoo to swimming with them, feeding them, or holding them in the waters off Mexico and the Bahamas. I hope for future generations we can find a way to live in harmony with these gentle giants and many other diverse inhabitants of the oceans by embracing conservation efforts to preserve them. All this brings me an earworm…

A little ray of sunshine A little bit of soul Add just a touch of magic You got the greatest thing since rock ‘n’ roll….by the Turtles, (the sea turtles, maybe?).

For Good Exercise-Go Golf!

My doctor said I should take up an activity or sport for exercise like walking or golf so I decided to start out small, as in miniature, miniature golf. You know how some sports enthusiasts take trips all over in an attempt to see a baseball game at every major league stadium in a season or see every NFL team play (and not on TV) in a season kind of thing? Well I figure I can afford to get enthusiastic about the sport miniature golf and try out all the courses I find in my travels here and there. Here is what I have to report on the three courses I have tried out so far.

Island Golf in Fernandina Beach Florida is a fun minigolf course. The exercise is great to because you can actually get some hill work in (at a relaxed pace of course). The place is owned by a sweet couple, and Bob, of Bobalou (the gator at the top of the hill) fame, is the person who got us set with our clubs, balls, and scorecards and sent us on our way. I love this place because the price was reasonable and the weather ocean breezy. I got to golf around a waterfall (man-made) too. They have a nice (although a bit dampish) room under the waterfall for birthday parties and the room rental was reasonably priced. Their Birthday Party Package includes golf games for 7 or 8 partiers and soft drinks and ice cream. You just bring the cake, paper goods, and kids and have fun.

The only hazard we faced there was when Jonas hit his ball out of the park and into the street. Thank goodness he didn't get a hole in (some) one (’s car)!

Crooked River State Park in St. Marys Georgia has a great minigolf course too. You get your club, scorecard, and ball from the main office at the park entrance and then can stroll under the pines and oaks and among nature over to picturesquely located course situated up on the river bluff. I love this place because each hole features a placard about the animals that inhabit the park so you can learn while you exercise. This was also the least crowded of all the miniature golf courses I have visited so far so you can really take your time and perfect your game.

The only hazard there was a gopher tortoise hole under the shrubbery near the last hole. My ball went in there and that caused two problems. First, it was all I could do to keep my grandsons from wanting to put their hands in the hole to retrieve the ball. Since gopher tortoises are sometimes referred to as a sentinel species that in fact share their burrows with many other species of wildlife, snakes, at that time came immediately to mind I knew there was no way I would be returning the ball back to the park office with my club. Second, it was a tough sell trying to convince the park ranger that I did indeed get a hole in one… gopher tortoise hole and he would be the one to retrieve my ball if he wanted it badly enough. Maybe he thought I was practicing driving balls over the cliff and into the river because he really wanted to charge me for not returning the ball but in the end he relented (or believed my story about the hole in one!).

KOA in Madeira Beach Florida, just over and under the causeway coming from St. Pete has a nice little minigolf course too. There, along with the exercise of getting up each morning after waking up on the ground in a tent packed like sardines with a bunch of grandchildren, you can enjoy a leisurely game of miniature golf between swimming in the campground pool and soaking in a hot tub (how I survived sleeping on the ground for several days-some of them cold last New Year’s weekend).

The only hazard there didn't occur on the golf course but instead in the intracoastal water way, beside which the golf course and campground are located, when my granddaughter Julie dropped her phone in the water and subsequently fell in to follow it. She survived no worse for the experience but the phone unfortunately did not.

That’s it so far for this exercise season but as I continue to venture between here and there I will keep you posted.

Holiday Pi

No, today isn't March 14, but I can no more resist a chance to write about Pi any more than I can resist the chance to eat pumpkin pie (or any of the delicious holiday pies so popular at this time of year)! Speaking of which I discovered this morning (yes, I was thinking Pi for breakfast) there is sadly no more Pi left from Thanksgiving in our refrigerator. I guess I was not the only one thinking Pi around here. I actually made ham and cheese pot pies and turkey pot pies yesterday with the last of the ham and turkey leftovers. They are nicely tucked into the freezer for future noshing, but this morning when I was thinking Pi, I was thinking sweet thoughts with whipped cream from the can on top!

At least, this morning anyway, I won’t have to worry about Pi adding to my circumference. And with Christmas coming soon I know there will be more Pi in the near future. I guess I should be thinking about walking off the effects my most recent love affair with Pi before Christmas.  

Then there's the Fibonacci sequence to consider....eating one slice of Pi (1) can increase to eating another (1). That makes two (2) so far and if you slice them small enough you can get a taste of all three on a dessert plate (3) for a total of five (5). And that’s just the start, who knows what can happen after a good stomach settling nap! All I can be sure of is if I keep with the Fibonacci sequence I will infinitely increase my calories which will only lead to exponential increases to my waist line which is already pretty substantial! But we do love some Pi and around here try never let it go to waist.

Wait a minute! What about the piece of Pi I hid behind the leftover stuffing! I guess since Pi is an irrational number and I love pie, infinitely, there is just no way to excuse (or rationalize) my behavior (Pi for breakfast-Yay!) today!

The Top Toy List

I’m just sayin’ today is Black Friday and it’s halfway over already. No, I didn't go shopping at midnight last night. Hence I am blogging rather than crashing (or sleeping in like the shoppers that called it an early night morning). I have however looked over the top toy list for Christmas 2012 and here are some things I noticed about it.

There are no toys under $20 dollars on it, unless you plan to buy a single One Direction band member for $19.99. The whole band costs $100. If I picked a solo member for sure my granddaughter would have a new favorite by the time it comes to unwrap it.

There are only two “educational” items and they (Leappad 2 and Tabeo) are priced at $99.99 and 149.99 respectively. My grandkids would probably find each less interesting than playing on their parents’ phones but there it is as far as educational toys go.

Gelarti, a kit for designing and creating 30 personalized peel off stickers (seriously 30 stickers) costs $24.99.

And there is only one item for outdoor use, a Yvolution Fliker F1 Flow Series three wheel scooter, that rides using body power. It costs $99.99 which is a bit pricey compared to some two wheel scooters that can be had for under $20 and also use body power. Consider also that for $30 more you could get an electric scooter, but that basically challenges the reason I think kids need to be outside in the first place.

If all the above fail to inspire, you can always get a Sewer Play Set (with Ninja Turtles) for $129.99 or have a Lalaloopsy Hair Star day for $69.99, I’m just sayin!

Happy Stuffing Day!

Which one is it, the stuffed turkey or the turkey (me) that’s stuffed, that’s the reason I feel so sleepy after a big Thanksgiving meal? Maybe I just get bogged down over the cranberries. I read up on L-tryptophan, the stuff in turkey that’s supposed to be the culprit and I found out that it’s in lots of other things that don’t make me sleepy. So there is that. However I also read that L-tryptophan combined with carbs works even better to make produce serotonin (the sleep effect). So maybe that mountain of mashed potatoes I was climbing, or the big slice of chocolate satan satin pie I ate had something to do with my need for a nap. But enough on naps, Grandma’s shouldn't have to rationalize taking them!

I do know I enjoy orchestrating and/or just eating a nice Thanksgiving meal. I am very thankful for family and friends, (who are really my family too), that come together on turkey day to partake, and I’m thankful for the love and fellowship that goes along with all of it. 

The main thing to remember here is that you just need to get off the gravy train, dog, hop on a gravy boat instead, and get over to Grandma’s for a yummy Thanksgiving dinner cooked and served with love and gratitude.

Happy Thanksgiving! (I know it’s a day early…Hope one of these makes you smile!)

Two blondes were driving down the road. The blonde driving looks at her friend in the passenger seat and asks her to see if her blinker is working. So the blonde looks out the window and says, ''Yes. No. Yes. No.''

How'd the redneck get lost in space? He rolled down the window to spit out his chaw.

After a party a man walks into a bar and orders a drink. Already tipsy the man asks the person sitting next to him, “Do you want to hear a blonde joke?” The person replies, “I am 240pounds, world kickboxing champion and a natural blonde. My friend is 190 pounds, a world judo champion and a natural blonde. My other friend here is 200 pounds, world arm wrestling champion and is also a natural blonde. Do you still want to tell me that blonde joke?”  The man thinks for a minute and answers, “No, I don’t want to have to explain it three times.”

Nick and Bob were golfing on a course that was right next to a cemetery. After they teed off, they noticed that there was a funeral procession passing by. So Nick takes off his hat, and places it over his heart. When the funeral is over, Bob looks at Nick and asks, ''Why did you do that?'' Nick replies, ''Well we were married for almost 40 years. It's the least I could do.''

Kathy and Tim die in a car accident on the eve of their wedding. In Heaven, they ask St. Peter if they can still be married. "Well, let me find out if this is possible. Stay here and I will be right back." Six months pass and Peter returns. "Yes, we can do this for you." The couple asks, "Well, as we have spent so much time together waiting for your answer, we need to know that if things don't work out, is there a possibility that we can be divorced?" To which St. Peter answers, "It took me six months to find a priest up here -- how long do you think it will take me to find a lawyer?"

Since Pope John Paul is getting up in age the Vatican has started an early campaign to ''recruit'' a successor. They have interviewed many applicants and after many months of interviewing they have narrowed the search to TWO final candidates: Bishop McLaughlin from Dublin Ireland and Bishop Sicola from New York. They are both very good candidates. The Vatican selection committee finally settled on Bishop Sicola. Though after much debate they changed their minds and said that Bishop Sicola would NOT be a good choice because it wouldn't seem proper to address the new pontiff as ''pope-si-cola.''

for reading my blog. 

Hanky Panky on Andros

I know this is the time of the year when I should be thinking turkey but now that I am back in St. Marys I find myself hankerin’ for something else. The cold weather and overcast skies haven’t helped either. Back in the Bahamas I’d heard tell that the best peas and rice on Andros could be found at Hank’s Place in Fresh Creek. After sampling them there I had to agree. I also enjoyed the lobster tails painted with melted butter as they were grilled to perfection by Hank himself out on the deck at his Green Eyed Lady Bar. Looking out over the calm waters of Fresh Creek with good friends and conversation made the experience even more enjoyable. Hank’s grouper fingers were also a delectable treat. Hank’s Place is a favorite hangout for locals, tourists, and AUTECnics and one of my favorite local destinations whenever I visit. Nowhere else can you get Hank’s signature drink, the Hanky Panky and as Hank says, “If your still standing it wasn't a Hanky Panky!” If you have too much you can stay overnight in one of their guestrooms. I had the Hanky without the Panky and it was refreshing too. That’s how I managed to still be standing at the end of the evening. I also enjoyed meeting Eva and being regaled with tales of life in the Bahamas by Hank himself. He is a delightful, insightful story teller. Even though I will be eating turkey instead of lobster this week I will always be thankful.

October, November, December Holidays Here and There

October, November, December here (USA) =Columbus Day, Halloween (unofficial but candy filled fun for kids), Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

October, November, December there (Bahamas) = Discovery Day and Christmas.

Interestingly enough, though Columbus is thought to have first landed in the Bahamas, here in the U.S. he has long been credited (and discredited along with others for the decimation of native peoples) with discovering America. There is a movement in the Bahamas to expose Columbus’ murderous legacy and change Discovery Day to National Heroes Day, a day dedicated to discovering and recognizing African men and women who have fought for real freedom for all people. Compromising on the name of the day and calling it Discover National Heroes Day appeals to me. Recognizing heroes who have fought for the freedom of all people appeals to me too.

Halloween the unofficial holiday that runs a close second (as a favorite for kids in the U.S.) to Christmas isn't celebrated in the Bahamas officially or unofficially. But this year some Bahamian children were treated to some Halloween fun along with the children from the AUTEC School. My friend and photographer, Leroy, sponsored and brought some of them to the haunted forest to enjoy some frightful fun. Hidden in the haunted forest (a patch of trees behind the softball field) they encountered a spooky field hospital, with mad doctors creating zombies. I think it was fitting that at least one met his demise beneath a golf cart!

Although I am not an official “Autecnic,” just an occasional visiting dependent, I give thanks for the beauty and bounty of the natural world that is the Bahamas every time I am lucky enough to step off the plane and into its paradise. Although I won’t be there for Thanksgiving this week I have seen the menu for the chow hall and I hear that they go all out providing everyone with a delicious traditional meal every year. Thanksgiving, although not an official Bahamian holiday, is observed at AUTEC as a day of giving thanks at the chapel, and enjoying U.S. style traditional Thanksgiving feasts in the homes  of the families there and the chow hall.

The December holiday the U.S. and Bahamas share celebrates the birth of Jesus, Christmas Day and I reserve the right to not blog about Christmas until after Thanksgiving!

Missing Children Flyers

In my travels returning to St. Marys via I95 north, which happen fairly frequently, I always stop at the first rest area north of West Palm Beach in Martin County Florida. I stop on my way home for a bathroom break and the reason for the next one, a soda. During my last few stops, as I perused the offerings in the vending machines, I've kept an eye out for the armed security. His vehicle is always there but I have never actually seen him and the little office is always dark. I've had some good news to share with him and on my latest stop last Thursday I didn't see him either. Maybe he was in the men’s room. That was the only place I didn’t look. I did, however, spot a grounds keeper emptying trash cans and pushing a cart of cleaning supplies and tools down the nicely kept walk way. I asked him if he was also in charge of maintaining shadowboxes with the posters of missing children in them. He was, so I happily told him he could take one poster down because the girl featured on it had been found and safely returned to her family back in Camden County Georgia. It was a flyer asking for any information or sightings of Ivy Merck. He seemed a little taken aback at first probably because he wasn't expecting a strange traveler to accost him with good news. Maybe he thought I was coming to tell him about a backed up commode in the women’s restroom when I first approached, but when he heard my news, a smile completely transformed his working face. We commiserated a bit about families and kids and how great it was to know there was a happy ending out there for at least one family. Then I got back on the road north to St. Marys feeling thankful for my family. 

Wrong Side of the Road!

Driving on the wrong side of the road definitely changes the way you view life. On the base on Andros, sometimes I feel a tickle of panic as I suddenly pay attention to the road and not stop looking around at the passing greenery for golden crowned kinglets, bananaquits, and Cuban emeralds. It feels for a moment like the golf cart is careening out of control when we take a right turn, so wide! (so the opposite of the lefts!) But the wrong side of the road there is the right side. I can’t say much more than that in explanation because it’s like trying to understand daylight savings time to me! Life does seem to move at a slower pace (more of a golf cart speed) than it does back in St. Marys, at least on the base. Once you get off base on the island you immediately notice a lack of speed limit signs and stop signs but there the road conditions give you pause and cause you to slow down.

Meanwhile, back in St.Marys, I haven’t slowed down at all since returning Thursday. Driving my granddaughter, Kim to the pool for her swim meet today (on the right side of the road), I looked at the dash and saw the outside temperature was 55 degrees Fahrenheit and the wind made it feel even chillier. Since my return (to St. Marys) from the Bahamas I have yet to glimpse a patch of blue sky. And the Camden County High School swim team is swimming outside in the pool at Kings Bay. The security guard at the base gate laughed when I told him I’d just returned the Bahamas and the cold weather gave me a sinus head ache. Shock is what he said I was suffering from. Maybe I just need to get back to driving on the wrong side of the road.

Shark Fibbles

Ok, I am going to admit straight out that I lied again. This time to my grandkids about a scrape I got on my elbow in the Bahamas. First off let me say that I am back in St. Marys and the first thing the kids said (after they asked, “What’s for dinner?”) was how my trip was. I said as I usually do that it was great (true so far..) and that I saw all my friends, painted ceramics, went to the beach and discovered a cool cave in the dunes (all true also). And there was a really interesting craft fair and I got to eat fresh conk fritters. There was a guy there pulling the conks out of the shells, that’s how fresh (true too)! On my way back I stopped in Cocoa Beach and saw two of my sons (I tried my shark fibble on them and Dave guffawed when he saw the little scrape on my elbow I was calling a shark nibble. Neil suggested I keep my arm in my hoodie pocket and say a shark bit it off). I decided to stick with my original story and show the scrape because I had Jim, if needed, for back up.

Here comes the lie, the only other thing that happened (I told the grandkids) was when I was swimming with my friend Jim. We were swimming along when he saw a tail flopping around in the water beside me. He pointed at it and when I looked, it was a shark. I elbowed it hard on the snout so it would swim away and leave me alone and it worked even though I had a place on my elbow where it nibbled me before it took off for the deeper water. To my credit I lied with a straight face. My daughter, Lil (now in her 30’s) asked me if I was wearing my blue bathing suit because she remembered being chased by a barracuda (20 years ago) when she was there and she was wearing a blue bathing suit. My grandson Bob asked if it was a bull shark. I told him I didn't think they scared off that easy. He figured it was probably a reef shark if the top fin was black. I assured him it was. Julie wanted to know if it bled a lot and did I stay in the water with blood in the water. I told her it only bled a little since it was just a nibble but still I figured it was time to get out of the water. After that the shark conversation sputtered out because the kids wanted to go to the skate park before dinner and dark but none of them actually questioned my veracity. When they got back we ate dinner and my shark fibble never came up in conversation again.  

And the truth, in case you were wondering, is that I suffered a flip flop malfunction on the sidewalk in front of the chow hall and stumbled and scraped my elbow. Maybe I should have had the nurse shark check it out.

Charge (your cell phone) Where?

No (if you only read the first word of the title of this post) I am not blogging about Christmas shopping, Thanksgiving hasn't yet passed! And yes, if you know me, you know I have a solar cell on the back cover of my cell phone, which by the way I don’t have service for here on Andros, so this blog is not about my own cell phone either. This time I saw an article about a homeless man who was arrested in Sarasota, Florida for “Theft of Utilities” because he was caught charging his cell phone in a public park, apparently a misdemeanor. The arresting officer, who decided not to “miss” this opportunity to be “the meaner” person stated afterwards the “theft of city utilities will not be tolerated during this bad economy.” The homeless man spent the night in jail with no money to bail him out and was released the following day when a judge threw the case out. I was surprised that they didn't take him before the bench for using a bench. Before you know it, we’ll have to pay for seating in the public parks too. The officer should be arrested for using up his “charge” in such a frivolous manner. It would appear the cop on his beat missed a beat with this outlandish charge. My advice for the homeless man the next time his phone charge is low, is to charge on into a local McDonald's and recharge his phone there.

Target Browsing

My first thought when Target Browsing caught my eye after checking out what the weather was going to be like back home in St. Marys (on my computer at First Coast News.com) was that here on Andros the only way I’d be caught Target Browsing would be on line since there are no Targets, Wal-Marts, or what have you type stores around here. My next thought tried to sidetrack me into on-line shopping since the holidays are fast approaching but I stayed on target and decided to read the rest of the article. It was all about a couple and their business outfit called Brush Goats 4 Hire. Brush goats are exactly that… a flock of goats that through target browsing help homeowners and municipalities stay a step ahead of a damaging phenomenon (some say rooted in global warming), wildfire.  The goats eat vegetation in hard to reach places that surround pockets of residential development and provide kindling for devastating firestorms that have plagued drought stricken places and places that battle unreasonably seasonal drying wind, Colorado immediately comes to mind as one place that could have used these goats.

The article quoted the University of California’s Cooperative Extension saying (I’m paraphrasing here) that there may certainly be more demand for the Brush Goats 4 Hire types of businesses because the wildfire risk is not going to go away. There are a couple of schools of thought on the goat’s effect on erosion but as I tend to be pro-goat (since I’m married to an old goat) I will highlight the plus side here. Goats' hoof action helps aerate the earth and their fertilizer adds nutrients. They help control erosion because their footprints are deep enough to slow the flow of water on steep hillsides and since they eat mostly leaves instead of the entire plant the plants still have roots and can grow back and help hold the soil. Goats are quiet and eco-friendly requiring no fossil fuels to operate as they process (eat/recycle) the brush which eliminates the need to haul the brush away. They also have appeal as entertainment and are fun to watch while they “work” at clearing brush in hard to reach yet scenic hillsides.

So when I mentioned this article and the value and cuteness of goats with eyebrows raised inquiringly to my husband, I knew in advance that he’d say one old goat around here was enough.

My Second Cup of Coffee

I woke up early this morning and for a change I even got out of bed, not my usual Bahama morning at all. Looking down at the right hand corner of this computer screen showed the time’s first digit had just changed to a 6. Since I had Blogger’s Block yesterday (along with a lovely walk on a windy beach and other distractors…) I figured I’d better pop out of bed and get busy. I fumbled around for my glasses and decided to forgo opening the blinds and turning on lights because after all it was barely dawn and a part of me hoped I’d get this finished quick so I could pop back into bed. This place isn't really dark (as dark as I like it for sleeping anyway) because the clock on the microwave and the coffee pot never sleep. There is a light outside the door that sneaks in the peephole and around the edges of the window blinds. Then there’s a little series of lights, very small but flickery, on the wireless thingy on my husband’s desk. There’s also a light on the surge protector but it’s behind the recliner so it’s not as noticeable as all the others. Combine all those little lights with the light of my laptop screen and I had enough light to start the day without stubbing my toe and I certainly had enough light to blog by!

I only needed one more thing to complete my morning routine so I could get down to the business at hand, this blog, and that was a nice hot cup of coffee. Fortunately my very considerate spouse always puts on a pot before he leaves for work and its smell was comforting (remember I was up far too early) and enticing all at the same time. So after I booted up this bad boy (my laptop), I got out the skim milk and vanilla creamer and turned my mug upright on the counter. Coffee in the morning is one thing I can do with my eyes closed (figure of speech here-my eyes were open, albeit barely, but open) and I sipped down half the cup standing at the counter. Arnie is so lucky I send him the good stuff in those care packages I send him once a month from home, I thought, quite a bit conceitedly, as I took the rest of the mug with me and set it beside me as I sat down to blog.

That’s when I noticed a couple of coffee grounds floating in what was left of my first cup of coffee. I hate it when the filter folds down and grounds escape into the brew but it happens. This was the first time here though because Arnie has coffee making down to a science. So I drank enough to see that there were no grounds at the bottom of the mug and that was when I became suspicious. I stuck my finger in the remaining dregs and captured what I thought was a coffee ground. It proved to be quite squishable. Morning light around the blinds and the realization that my coffee had something other than coffee grounds in it, dawned on me. I went back to the pot for my second cup. This time I turned on the light over the sink and turned over yesterday’s cereal bowl that had been inverted on a dish towel beside the sink to dry with my coffee mug. That’s when it became obvious that my first cup of coffee had sugar ants (like my cereal bowl), rather than coffee grounds.

My second cup of coffee (ground and ant free) confirmed it!

A Thousand Words – Picture that! 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words but can a picture truly be? Maybe it depends on the thousand words you were expecting the picture to convey. The phrase is American in origin and began to be used quite frequently in the US press from around the 1920s onward.  Everywhere we go today we are bombarded by visual imagery. Let’s face it we exist in a visually dominated society. Look at Face Book or Pinterest or any social media site. Then there’s TV, You Tube, and even NetFlix. Phones, I pads, and even hand held video game Nintendo DSIs can be used to take pictures. Pictures can elicit compassion for the human condition or outrage against man’s inhumanity. Sometimes a picture strikes a chord in us and says more than words can express. I, for one, believe that a picture can easily be worth a thousand words and maybe even many more……of thanks.  Happy Veteran’s Day and thanks to all who served and continue to do so to preserve our precious freedom.

Henry Wallace, Wood Carver

Little did we (my husband and I) know when we purchased a fish and parrot carved from mahogany 20 years ago here on Andros that we were acquiring a pair of pieces from an artist that would soon achieve international acclaim. The beauty of Andros is timeless and unchanging but the value of the art has gone up. Henry Wallace, self-taught wood sculptor and local artist of Red Bay on Andros has had his works displayed in the Smithsonian and was selling his art at the local AUTEC craft fair this weekend. We saw two of his exquisite turtle sculptures that like much of his work that depict the beauty of the natural flora and fauna of the Bahamas. We also saw a carved mahogany land crab created by his son who is following in his father’s footsteps.

The weather was ideal for the craft fair, cloudy and breezy, and the conk fritters, local craft fair fare, were scrumptious.

Androsia-Patterns of Life on Andros

Bumping along an uneven, pocked, paved over crushed coral and limestone road I go. Looking out the bus window, the road’s shoulder drops off into swampy undergrowth. Occasional pines, snags, and causarinas spike up through the surrounding thick vegetation that seems to stretch as far as the eye can see. Occasionally sandy parallel tracks can be seen curving away from this road and into the mangroves and I wonder for a brief moment in passing where they might lead. Then as I turn my head to look out the back of the bus I see what trails, a bloom of dust obliterating where we came from, leaving me with only thoughts of what lies ahead.

The bus brakes screech as it slows and finally stops. The driver levers the door open and looks back to me, a signal that this is my stop. He nods and points down the unpaved side road and reminding me that he will come back this way on his return trip around 11. I thank him and in our separate ways we go, the bus on to Fresh Creek and me to Androsia. I start down the road as it cuts through the brush and my nose detects the scent of hot wax before the factory comes in to view.

Androsia, the batik fabric and batik clothing manufacturing factory itself isn’t air conditioned and sits up on its concrete block foundation. There are a couple of cars parked in the sandy turnabout in front and I can hear a radio and voices as I look into the big open end of the factory. A worker stands beside a bucket of hot wax stamping a fabric design. A young girl comes down the steps and we walk over to the “store” that sits kitty corner to the factory. Inside the A/C washes over me and I find myself among rows of Androsia creations, a colorful clothing line for men women and children and not just clothes but bolts of material, tablecloths, placemats, and napkins to name just a few, inspired by the brilliant colors and natural beauty of Andros Island, Bahamas. Each fabric pattern is hand stamped and unique and I finally settled on Happy Dolphins on a light aqua background. After a quick glance at my watch I gather up my purchases, signaling the end of the air conditioned break for my new young friend, and head for the register knowing that I need to get back down the road to catch the bus. As I board the bus for the ride back I just smile and continue to enjoy the many varied and beautiful patterns of life on Andros.

Drive Ins (not drive thrus or drive bys)

Remember them? The one we always went to had a playground in front (and below) the big screen so parents could sort of watch their kids while they watched a movie. There was always a cartoon before the full length feature film began. My twin brother and I had kid sized attention spans (today we might have been considered ADHD) but this was long before that label existed, so the cartoon was usually our favorite part. Our parents had these little folding camp stools that we could sit out on in front of the car. And it was better (for kids) if your parent’s car had 4 doors so you could get in and out without disturbing the speaker box that hung in the window. That way during the intermission when they played the song, let’s all go to the lobby, let’s all go to the lobby…and the popcorn tub, soda cup, and candy boxes with legs came dancing and singing across the big screen, you could jump back in and start begging for money to spend at the concession stand. We loved carrying a few coins (back then to us-big money) and going on independent ops to pick out candy. Sometimes a smuggled in bag of popcorn (popped on top of the stove in a pot with a lid) would magically appear and then we would just have to beg for some money for 7UP. (Even back then my parents knew we didn't need caffeine to keep us going!)

But my most vivid Drive In memory is of the time my parents took us to see The Mummy. I know I am dating myself but I am referring to The Mummy starring Boris Karloff. We started out at the playground and then as it got dark we sat out on our little camp stools. Before too far into the movie my twin and I were both screaming (and pounding on the car window) to be let back into the car where our parents sat laughing behind the locked doors. Pretty soon people in our row and the rows close by started honking their horns in complaint, adding to our ruckus. Finally, my Mom, wiping off tears of laughter, relented and unlocked a door so we could scramble back in. My parent’s laughter was contagious and after being admonished with, “It’s only a movie,” my brother and I ended up giggling (in hysteria!) too. We said we weren't afraid of no mummy but during the intermission we stayed in the car with Mom. Dad had to go to the lobby for the 7Ups and snacks by himself! 

Back in the bs…

Here is part of where the inspiration for the title of this blog post came from- www.google.bs-(what I see when I hit my usual browser every morning after I boot up when I’m here.) The bs stands for the Bahamas. More of my inspiration comes from the place itself. I am sitting outside beside a newly sprouted coconut palm, escaping the A/C inside blue door 711, my abode on Andros, enjoying the beauty and warmth of the day. The sound of the birds and occasional high spirited laughter that drifts my way on the breeze is infinitely more pleasant than the incessant hum of the A/C or the noise of the election results being rehashed over and over again on the TV.

As I pass the grill (where you can order a cheeseburger at lunch or a steak at dinner on Wednesdays) in the chow hall I hear a welcoming shout, “Hey Jomomma!” and see many other smiling faces. An analogy here would be the chow hall:AUTEC as WalMart: St.Marys. In other words the chow hall is where you see everybody but it’s better than WalMart because you sit with friends and make new friends over meals rather than just sharing a passing hello over shopping carts. It is family time extended. Somehow when I am home in St. Marys (with the exception of Wednesday night spaghetti and holiday meals) we don’t sit down as a family often enough. There are a couple of TVs mounted high in the chow hall (too high for the sound to be heard) so TV doesn't distract groups from conversation and no one seems to be in a big hurry to go back and watch their shows anyway. Plans are made for afternoon (after work) walks and that brings me to another thing about this place.

Waving-everybody does it whether they know you or not. People walking wave, people riding bikes and driving golf carts wave and people driving cars and trucks wave. The base taxi drivers and bus drivers are wavers too. There are all kinds waves from princess styles, pointing types, and the standard side to side hand wave. When someone extends their hand it isn't generally a talk to the hand sort of thing. Everybody waves. There is an underlying friendly quality here.

And the waving thing has begun to rub off on me. When I’m back in St. Marys I find myself doing it all the time. So next time some stranger waves to you as you’re driving down the street (in St. Marys), well you never know who it might be. It might be me-stranger things happen!

Oxymoronics! (The word for today..)

So I was brainstorming (on SKYPE again) with my husband for some new topics to blog about and he suggested I write about oxymorons. Here’s how our conversation went:

[8:21 PM] A Mount: Or maybe something about oxymorons not really being stupid bovines.

[8:22 PM] Jo Mount: Ok. I don't get that.

[8:27 PM] A Mount: Oxen and Morons - oxy morons.

[8:23 PM] Jo Mount: Ahhhh.

I know that oxymorons are words with opposing meanings paired together like jumbo shrimp (an example that reminds me of Forest Gump who I am beginning to think I have more in common with than ever-just read my blog about daylight savings time and you will probably agree), but I was just having a little trouble figuring out how my husband was turning the term oxymoron into an oxymoron. Oh well, moooo-ving on. 

The whole idea of oxymorons got me thinking out loud because oxymorons are everywhere. As I was typing thinking out loud just now my mind jumped to the song Cum On Feel the Noize, by Quiet Riot, one of several bands with oxymoronic names like The Grateful Dead etc.

And here’s a few more, sometimes adult children, in a strangely familiar, way manage to act like buttheads. They would never seek advice, so if offered any constructive criticism all holy hell can sometimes break loose! That might be construed as just one more reason life often feels like controlled chaos. My life’s chaos probably contributes to the fact that I have been seen in public with my tee shirt on inside out or was that outside in?  

I think it’s time to heed the advice that less is more and just add one final oxymoron (the most recent one) before mooo-ving on. This weekend a couple of my grand children and I stopped in for some of Anatta’s Frozen Yogurt Bliss (in St. Marys by Aunt B’s) and Jonas misread a sign there that stated the business was owned and operated by a Combat Veteran. His brand new oxymoron elicited a chuckle from the girl behind the counter too. He read and said, “This business is owned and operated by a Combat Vegetarian? What’s that mean Grandma?”

Hence my word for today, oxymoronics!

The Farting Rules

Used to be when you farted around our house you just said in a sing songy falsetto, “Excuse me, I made a smelly!” Unless of course it was an SBD (silent but deadly), then you just sat back and looked for reactions and depending on them decided to claim it or accuse, “He who smellt it dealt it!” And then there were times when you were grocery shopping with Poppa and he would fart, look around for an audience, and point his finger at you and say rather loudly, with a straight face, “Nicole (or the name of whichever kid was closest), that’s nasty.” And he’d either hold his nose or make gagging sounds or both. He never farted in the aisle with the air fresheners either or you could at least break even (after Poppa broke wind) with a retaliatory puff of Febreze or Oust. Nope, no such luck.

But now the farting rules have changed. If you fart, you must say “safety”. (I don’t know how this works with SBDs.) But if you don’t say “safety” someone else will say “doorknob” and you will have to run and touch a doorknob and/or risk getting punched (usually on the upper arm) on the way. Then there’s another part where someone says “after burn” but I forget exactly what that means. Maybe you only get that after eating copious quantities of jalapeno or habanero peppers. That’s what I used to think after burn meant anyway. And one more thing, what about people (like Poppa) who can fart on demand. I’d surely have an accident if I tried that. The only doorknob I’d be running for would be the one on the bathroom door!

"We Need a Super Hero! (and I know where to find one…)

I asked a couple of my grandsons who’s their favorite super hero and why? These are the ones they picked: the Green Lantern, Superman, and Batman.

Green Lantern was chosen because he has a ring that gives him super powers he can use to shoot lasers and shields. He is a member of a special group of protectors chosen by a group of all- knowing bodies somewhere far out in the universe that keeps the Green Lanterns on the up and up (so they don’t abuse their power) and assigns each a planet to take care of. Like Superman, he flies.

Superman was favored for his super strength. He always saves the innocent before taking on the bad guys. He uses his super hearing to hear their calls. He puts the people that need him first. No one has to shine a light in the sky to let him know his help is needed like the light they shine to call on the Batman.

Batman was picked because he has no super powers. Instead he is into using advanced technology, and he’s really good at combat. He’s really just a regular guy (other than being a billionaire). He likes the darkness and stays out of the limelight. His mission is to keep Gotham City safe, and unlike Superman and Green Lantern he gets his power from his own smarts not from outer space.

Now I’m thinking since Hurricane Sandy walloped the northeast we could really use those guys. But in truth many of the powers they possess can be found in the super heroes that are already there making a difference. There was a group of, maybe not all-knowing but definitely future planning, beings assigned to take care of our planet (FEMA and the American Red Cross) mobilizing in advance as Mother Nature’s threat to our countrymen came to fruition.

First responders have gone to work like a well-oiled machine heeding the calls of people that for whatever reason refused to evacuate and now need rescuing, going door to door in areas hardest hit. I haven’t read about any gas gouging. Providers are not abusing their power (and everyone else’s need) to make a profit. Free gas is being distributed.

The lights, (not the Bat Light) are coming back on. Slowly but surely power is being restored and people are sharing and helping each other charge their cell phones, as one small example, so they can let loved ones know they are surviving. These are regular guys (and neighbors) that are not interested in the limelight; just pulling together to help others who have lost everything get through the disaster. I am sure there are also planners working with today’s technology to make improvements to our decimated infrastructure so our cities can rise from the flood waters and ashes stronger than ever as everyone knows they will.

Let’s keep Gotham City and all the surrounding areas hard hit by this disaster in our prayers so friends and families there stay safe and until they get back on their feet. (Include a prayer of thanks for the super heroes already there and their tireless devotion.) Dig deep into your own heart (and pocket) to find your own power to help and you can be a super hero too. 

Daylight Savings Time

From last night on SKYPE….

[8:13 PM] Jo Mount: I am working on tomorrow's blog. How has your day wound down?

[8:14 PM] A Mount: It is winding down. I'm very glad to have my laundry done and my bike back. It is good to have it done. Don't forget to set your clock back an hour tonite.

[8:15 PM] Jo Mount: Does this mean I get more sleep or am I getting cheated? I need to be at the Wal-Mart by 8 o’clock.

[8:15 PM] A Mount: It means you get more sleep. When you think it’s 8 o’clock, it’s really 7 o’clock.

[8:15 PM] Jo Mount: Sucks. (Obviously I missed the part where he says I get more sleep!)

[8:15 PM] Jo Mount: 4 o’clock for the boys will really be 3 o’clock. (Their weekend visit will be over-always a downer around here.)

[8:16 PM] A Mount: No, 4 o’clock for the boys will be really 5 o’clock. You are falling back an hour not springing ahead.

[8:16 PM] Jo Mount: This concept screws with my head.

[8:17 PM] A Mount: I know it does and would make an interesting blog since Franklin brought it in as a suggestion to give us more daylight time.

[8:17 PM] Jo Mount: So 8 o’clock will really be 9 o’clock?

[8:17 PM] Jo Mount: If I could get it, but it’s like left and right to me. (Yes, I am also directionally challenged.)

[8:18 PM] A Mount: It is 8 o’clock now. The same time tomorrow will be 7 o’clock.

[8:18 PM] Jo Mount: 8 o’clock will be 7 o’clock?

[8:18 PM] Jo Mount: I am sorry. (I figure he is reaching his frustration point here.)

[8:19 PM] A Mount: No problem. It messes with my head too because I have to shift regular time and then shift the other way for zulu time.

[8:19 PM] Jo Mount: This is probably what early onset of Alzheimer's must seem like.

[8:19 PM] A Mount: Must be if I could remember it.

[8:20 PM] Jo Mount: How can 4 o’clock be 5 o’clock and 8 o’clock be 7 o’clock?

[8:20 PM] Jo Mount: 4 to 5 is going up and 8 to 7 is going down?

[8:22 PM] A Mount: It depends on how you look at it. If you look at it after it happens or before it happens. Right now the time is 8 o’clock tomorrow this time will be 7 o’clock. If the boys have to go back at 4 tomorrow, it will actually be 5 o'clock if the clocks didn't change because the clocks got set back an hour.

[8:23 PM] Jo Mount: So basically I am losing and hour?

[8:23 PM] Jo Mount: or gaining an hour?

[8:23 PM] A Mount: You are gaining an hour because time is moving backward one hour.

[8:24 PM] Jo Mount: Ok. It doesn't suck then,

[8:24 PM] Arnold Mount: At 2 a.m. the clock goes back to 1.

[8:24 PM] Jo Mount: I guess. See why I can’t blog about this!

[8:25 PM] Jo Mount: I should be able to get it!

[8:25 PM] A Mount: You'll get it. If you don't change your clocks tonite, just look at your phone in the morning.