Friday, July 31, 2015

Friday This and That

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As you can see, I still have not figured out how to remove the big bold Flickr from my photos.  I need help with this one. Ben Buddy are you out there?

Yesterday while the rest of the region sweltered we enjoyed a cooling wind off the lake.  A thunder boomer over night had cleared the air of oppressive humidity along with providing a drink for the thirsty ground.  It was a glorious day.  The Kid pointed out that it was actually two degrees cooler in Florida than here but (and it's a big one) the humidity in Florida was twice as high.  I think I'll stay right where I am thank you very much.

On Tuesday the BAA girls had their first summer adventure.  I know, I know, it's almost August and we've only just had our first outing.  We got an early start and when we returned several hours later a table came along with us.  Much to The Kid's relief it will take up residence with my neighbor to the north although we may have to help relocate it to Florida.

My lunch that day was interrupted by a Face Time call from Miss A.  She was excited to share news of her latest "pet,"  a three inch long beetle of some sort.  By the time I got the call our young entomologist had done her research, knew what it was, what it ate and its mating habits.  Her plan was to keep it in her room as a pet and feed it old wood.   Sometimes I think it would be easier to just buy her a dog.

Speaking of bugs, our new old friend Denny provided some "insight" into the biting mutant flies.  Apparently this particular strain was imported from Asia to help control the gypsy moth population.  (Who knew gypsy moth's were ever out of control?)  They do take care of the moth problem but are also as annoying as all get out when nibbling on me.

On a positive note, I have discovered that the little biters aren't early risers.  A morning paddle this week was pleasantly fly free.  Apparently they are teenage flies who like to sleep late,  originated in Asia and bite like.....you see where this is headed don't you?

We have Teenage Mutant Ninja Flies.

I hope your weekend is fabulous, wherever you are.





Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Dog Days and Mutant Flies

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The "dog days" have arrived.

After weeks of rain and cool temperatures summer has emerged from the shadows pronouncing itself alive and well.  Life at Little Red has adjusted accordingly.  The garden needs water, green beans are picked on a daily basis, the kayak is launched in early morning or after the dinner hour to avoid the heat of the afternoon, and the air conditioning has even been tested a time a two.

I have attempted day in and day out to set up camp in the shade of my maple tree and immerse myself in a good book.  Within minutes I find myself under siege from an air force of pesky, "BITING," flies.  Not the over sized horse fly variety, but the common housefly.  You know, the ones that usually show up at picnics or sneak in the house through minute tears in the screen door and proceed to do touch and goes on the carefully prepared food you are serving.  Yea, those ones.  Now they bite.  I'm convinced this is a mutant variety that has mated with an unsuspecting mosquito and has now evolved into a lethal biting Ninja.

Yesterday I doused myself in bug repellent.  It worked.  For about five minutes.

Last night three of them stowed away with me in the kayak for a sunset cruise.  After successfully eliminating the little buggers you can imagine my dismay when I felt the now all too familiar sting on my ankle.  Somehow the three originals had managed to summon reinforcements before meeting their demise.  I swatted and cursed the entire outing.  When one went down there were always two more to take its place.

It has now become all out warfare and I'm afraid I am losing the battle.  I need a plan and I am open to any and all suggestions.

Now please excuse me while I go search Ebay for a suit of armor.  It could work.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

The Replacements

Whats a body to do when you have raised two boys and sent them out into the world to fend for themselves?  When you find yourself missing stinky socks, good natured insults and appetites the size of a small army?

You find yourself a couple of replacements and rent them for a night.

The Replacements

Our replacements came at the low cost of two Pirate tickets and dinner at the ballpark.

There were even firework involved.

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We had a superb night with our "replacements."  The Pirates won.  The fireworks display was awesome. And the boys brought back memories of good times with the "originals."

But I am rethinking that appetite thing.




Thursday, July 23, 2015

Come on Flickr, Give Me a Break

Flickr and I have had a partnership for quite some time.  It works like this...
I upload the photographs I determine are blog worthy to my Flickr site, copy the link, paste it here and voila you get to see the photograph as I intended.  For their part Flickr provides image storage and maintains the link that allows the photo to exist on the blog.

The whys and wherefores behind this is techno geeky stuff that I don't understand.  And in today's every changing electronic world it may also be antiquated.  But since 2008 (give or take a year) it has worked for me.  There have been glitches along the way that occur when Flick updates it's web site and I have to spend an inordinate amount of time searching their site for the bits and pieces I need that make it work for me.  In the end I have always found what they had hidden away and life goes on.

Until now.  Now they have done it.  Screwed the pooch, at least as far as I am concerned.  They have added a line in the html link that embeds the Flickr logo, my user name, and photo ID onto the photo I post.   Like this.

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I spent a good hour one morning figuring out what the culprit was and eliminating it from the link.  The ship was righted once again.

But Flickr must have discovered that I had undone what they had done and now have done it again.

Now when I post a photo on the blog with the embedded message deleted from the link I get the image I want, free of Flickr advertising and my user name etc. but the words disappear.  It looks fine and dandy on the composition screen but as soon as I hit post all text that I typed below the photo is hidden from view.

Come on Flickr, give me a break.  This is a low down sneaky way for you to get free advertising from little old me who has a readership of six (yes, we are down to six now.  It's what happens when you quite blogging for months at a time).  And I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take anymore.

It may take me awhile to figure out how to get around this or find another web host for my photo's that won't take advantage of my good nature.

Until then please ignore the rather large Flickr logo embedded in my pretty pictures.

It isn't welcome.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

And the Livin is Easy

The rain has finally stopped, or at least diminished.  The sun is now presenting its warm glorious self with regularity.  Summer has arrived.

With it comes early morning paddles, evening dog walks down the lane, and boat rides on the lake.  Of late I have found myself taking up residence under one of the large maples settling comfortably into one of the Adirondack's, book in hand

Sometimes I close my eyes and listen.  A simple act, an attempt to increase my awareness of all that surrounds me.  I hear the hum of a motor as a little fishing boat scurries across the water, the loud screeching of the hawks that swoop and dive overhead, the rustle of leaves as the afternoon breeze kicks in.  There is the distant caw caw of crows on their latest scavenger hunt and the high pitched squeals of children on the far side of the bay.

The pace of life here slows in proportion to the heat of the day.  

After all it's summer time, and the "livin is easy."


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Sunday, July 19, 2015

Sour Grapes

I am no wine aficionado.  Nor do I pretend to be one.  I didn't stay in a Holiday Inn Express last night either so that definitely eliminates me from the group entirely.  I do however, enjoy a nice glass of vino around the dinner hour.

I am not finicky about my selections but I know what tastes good to my untrained palate.  My wine of choice has varied over the years.  In my twenties I leaned towards the sweet and cheap.  (Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill was a staple in my dorm room closet.)  But over the years as my taste matured I moved to the opposite end of the spectrum sipping Chardonnay and the full bodied reds.

Then the headaches struck and I backed off of the reds.  The headaches continued so out went the chardonnay.  Once again I shifted toward the lighter, sweeter wines.  White Zinfandel seemed to be a good fit...for a time.

My current wine of choice is sauvignon blanc.  Still on the lighter side but much drier and not headache inducing.

Last week I found myself out of vino.  It was a crisis of minor proportions.  You have to understand that my summer residency is in a state that holds a tight reign on all alcohol sales.  There is no running to the local Publix or Piggly Wiggly to grab a bottle or two for dinner.  When you live on a lake near a town with one stop light there is no state run store to be found thus advance planning is not only helpful but critical.

On this evening after a day of hard labor stacking wood we enjoyed a quick dinner out on the Ohio side of the lake.  Ohio is a state that has come to its senses permitting wine sales in local grocery stores.  As we exited the restaurant The Kid pointed out that there was little convenience store two doors away where I could procure some wine.

I knew I was in trouble when I walked in the door and came face to face with shelves lined with bottle after bottle of Arbor Mist, Boone's Farm and Thunderbird.  I should have thrown in the towel right then and there, but oh no, I'm nothing if not persistant.  After a thorough search I found something of interest.  On a bottom shelf.  Covered in dust.  A nice little Riesling.  "This will do," I chirped and snatched up a bottle (or maybe two.)

I popped the cork on Friday evening.

Apparently what I failed to take note of while I was blowing the dust off the bottle was the little tag line on the label.  The one in bold capital letters that read "REFRESHINGLY SWEET."

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The stuff was nasty!  Sickeningly sweet with a hint of I've been sitting on the shelf too long.

I couldn't drink it.

"Don't throw it out," The Kid insisted.  "One of these days you will be desperate and you'll drink it."

Seriously?

Has it come to that?

Maybe the next time I should just reach for the Thunderbird and save a buck a two.


Friday, July 17, 2015

A Perfect Beginning

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The kayak slid slowly into the placid water; sparking ripples that spread without fanfare across the tranquil blue.  The quiet interrupted only by the plop of water droplets trickling from the paddle as it dipped and rose in a timeless rhythm.

The lake, a deep inky blue, cast back the glory of the morning sky.

An eagle perched high on a leafless tree watched our every move.  It's white head gleaming in the morning sun.

The hour was early.  The pace slow.  The beauty undeniable.

The perfect beginning to a summer day.

Somehow I know that whatever the remaining hours hold, these moments will sustain.





Wednesday, July 15, 2015

A Fish Tale of Sizable Proportions

As we finished dinner on Monday evening, with no baseball that held any interest on the horizon, The Kid announced that he was heading down to the dock to do a little fishing.  Before long he sauntered off, fishing pole in hand looking to enjoy the peace and quiet that dropping a line in the water on a  warm summer evening provides.

An hour or so passed when I heard the front door slide open and The Kid excitedly call, "I need you.  On the dock.  Bring your camera or your phone or something.  I need a picture.  No one is going to believe me."  I quickly grabbed my phone and followed his long, hurried strides back to the dock.

"What's going on," I asked?
"I have something on the line.  It's pretty good sized.  I don't know what it is for sure.  It might be a carp.  I hope it's still there, it went under the dock."

We gave out a collective sigh of relief, when moments later, he determined that it was, indeed, still on the line.  After some careful manipulation from The Kid, the fish emerged unscathed from beneath the dock and stuck his head out of the water.  It was no fat carp and he soon realized we were ill prepared to land it, whatever "it" was.

Reinforcements were needed.

While I called for help, The Kid continued to wrestle the monster and keep him out in open water.  Within minutes our neighbor Tom arrived on the scene, grabbing a net out of his boat along the way.  After a couple of failed attempts and leaning as far out over the water as possible Tom managed to get the net under it and lift the fish safely to the dock.

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The two worked together untangling fish from net and removed the hook, loosely held in the corner of its mouth.

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What emerged was a 36" Muskie!

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Quite the prize and an amazing feat considering it was caught on a pole with a 50 year old reel,  6# test line and a hook the size of a peanut.  (If you aren't familiar with fish speak it translates to never should have landed a fish that big with such puny gear.)

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After fighting for almost an hour, this bad boy was done in.  He was admired and photographed.  Then, he was gently returned to the lake where he rested for a few minutes before swimming off.

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The boys said it's been a long time since they have seen a smile that big on their Dad.

I'm inclined to agree.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Henna's High

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Our sweet girl is deathly afraid of fireworks.  The booms and bangs of the annual Forth of July celebration are enough to send her into a fit of tremors and shakes that would easily score a 7.3 on the Rictor Scale.  All of this shaking is followed by loud panting and drooling.  The kind of drooling that leaves large puddles on the floor.

At her last visit to our veterinarian this state of anxiety came up in conversation.  "No problem" said the vet, "I'll give you a mild tranquilizer for her.  It won't hurt her, just mellow her out."

When the big day dawned I was prepared.  Around 4:00 PM I administered the proper dose (actually only a partial dose as she wasn't too keen on the pill and kept spitting it out), and promptly forgot about it.  Fast forward an hour, give or take, when this conversation took place.

Chris:  "Mom, some thing's wrong with Henna"
Me:  "Seriously?  What do you mean some thing's wrong with Henna?"
Chris:  "She can't walk.  Her back legs won't work."
Me:  (Puzzled) "What do you mean she can't walk?
Chris:  "Her legs don't work and her eyes are funny."
Me:  (Light bulb moment)  "It must be the tranquilizer I gave her."

And there she was, poor thing, trying to walk but nothing would work in sync.  One leg wobbled to the left, the other to the right.  She took one tenuous step after another until finally she gave up.  Waved the white flag in defeat and stared up at me through glassed over googley eyes, as if to ask, "what the hell did you do to me?"

Chris:  "Mom, she's stoned."

And from some better left unknown member of the peanut gallery:  "I had a few nights like that when I was in college!"

Yes indeed our girl was stoned.  Higher than the fireworks streaking across the night sky.

Eventually we assisted her up the few steps into the house where things went from bad to worse.  Those little wobbly legs became ice skates on steroids once she hit the wood floor.  Front legs splayed out on either side of her, back legs dancing and sliding to a beat known only to them.  It was a sight to behold.

Finally, after several failed attempts to hop up onto her spot on the bunks, she nestled in and began to sleep it off.  The Kid was convinced she was dead when the following morning she failed to move when he tried to wake her.

I can happily report she is fine now, back to her old self, no ill effects from her "high" time!

I can also report that the earth shattering booms and bangs on that night didn't phase her one bit.

Nope, not one bit.

Saturday, July 11, 2015

Reflections

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I am fascinated by reflections.  I particularly love the way images are bent and twisted by the larger than life sized windows found in big city buildings.  These reflections are especially beautiful when the angle of the light is low bringing life and dimension to the scene.

This one was spotted on a recent visit to Pittsburgh.  The sun was high in the sky but still I was drawn to the play of light and color reflecting back at me in the urban landscape.

Who says cities are grey and dull?  If we take the time to look, light and color are reflected all around us.








Thursday, July 9, 2015

A Throw-Back World

Life at Little Red is slow of pace.  It is as if taking a step back in time, a "throw-back" world.

It is a place where kids roam free under watchful adult eyes masked in grandparent faces and smiling neighbors. The year could  be 1952 or  2015.

Joy can found everywhere,

in cart rides,

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and dropping a hook in the water beneath the setting sun.

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In dancing with sparklers flickering and sizzling in the dark,

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and learning how to remove a fat "sunny" from the hook all by yourself,

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Playing explorer in the old canoe,

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and making smores with Uncle Double Trouble.

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Swimming in the lake with a favorite cousin,

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or making survivor treks up and down the Amazon River.

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There is joy paddling to far off places

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toasting marshmallows over an open fire until they are the perfect shade of done,

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and driving the ancient Cubbie with Pappy,

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There is joy in fishing

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In July 4th shenanigans with cousins of all ages,

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and catching frogs as dusk settles in.

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It could easily be 1952 instead of 2015.


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It is a throw-back world.

A magic place where fire flies light up the night and children tumble into bed with exhausted smiles and dream dreams of adventures that await at dawn.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Settling into the Quiet

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The busy is behind me.

The days of summer that are marked by travel and must dos.  The days filled with giggles and grass covered wet feet, of melting marshmallows warm from the fire and sun kissed faces smiling back at me from across the dinner table.

The grands went home yesterday.

It will take some time to settle into the quiet; to regain the balance of every day life.  But adjust I will.  Right after I mop the floors, wash the sheets and return order to chaos.

However, I think I shall leave those small hand prints on the sliding door for just a little while longer.

A shadowy reminder of the busy and the ones I hold so dear.

I miss you Gabe & Allie.












Thursday, July 2, 2015

Road Trip

Rumor had it that a new pool had been installed this spring at the home of the grands.  The Kid and I felt the need to inspect the project and give it our stamp of approval so a road trip was in order.

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One of the great-nephews decided to go along for the ride.

He had a hankering to inspect the new project too.

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After thoroughly checking things out, we all gave the new addition two thumbs up.

Miss A demonstrated her underwater prowess.

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The G-man as well.

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It was a fun filled two days enjoying the cool water and warm sunshine.

(There may or may not have been an incident involving a pogo stick and a tumble into the bushes.  We'll just keep that one under raps if that's okay with you.)

When the time came to head home we piled into the car and low and behold there were a couple of stow aways!

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Looks like it's going to be a rip roaring good Fourth of July at Little Red!