It's In The Genes

This little man loves to fish.



He gets it honestly.

From his great grandfather Young,

From his grandfather,

From his Father,

And from this guy.



On this particular evening Uncle Chris and the G-man had their poles in the water long after the sun went down.



What can I say?

It's in the genes.

Perseveration

Perseveration (vb: to perseverate) refers to insistent or redundant repetition.

There is a pair of robins flitting around Little Red this summer attempting to build a nest and start a family.  On the surface it appears to be a natural state of affairs.  However there is on little problem... their selection of building sites.

The first nest was erected beneath the trailer deposited on our property by the neighbor assisting with the installation of our new yard.  We joked that unbeknownst to the loving couple they had erected a mobile home.  One that unceremoniously drove off one bright sunny day leaving our love birds in the lurch.

Disappointed but undeterred our pair selected a new site, the wheel well of The Kid's red jeep. 

The Kid, unaware of the homesteaders also drove off one afternoon leaving in his wake another shattered home.  This time broken bits of blue were visible in the rubble.  We were crushed.  

But the persistent pair were undaunted and soon got back to work rebuilding their nest... in the same location.  We thought we caught this one in time removing the nest before eggs could be laid.  No such luck.  Two tiny blue eggs had already been placed in the bed of straw.  We were home wreckers once more.

The Kid took to parking the Jeep in the barn in an effort to encourage the pair to move along.  And move along they did...to our other vehicle.

For the past three weeks it has been a war of wills between the robins and the humans.  Every day we remove the straw beginnings of a nest and every evening they return and begin again.  

Over and over and over again. 

We have now resorted to placing aluminum foil on top of our tires in a last ditch effort to deter them.

Perseveration:  insistent or redundant repetition.

We can't decide if the pair is learning disabled or just plain stubborn.  

Either way I guess the least I could do is thank them for the addition of a new word to my vocabulary.

Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor's Chair

My neighbor and good friend Marcia, a.k.a. The Principal, has in her possession a wonderful old rocking chair with fabulous carved goose neck arms.  It is one of the most beautiful and comfortable old chairs I have ever encountered.  The first moment I laid eyes on it I knew it was meant to be mine.

Unfortunately Marcia preferred to retain the rights to her lovely goose arm chair and I found myself chairless and out in the cold with a burning desire to acquire it that would not go away.

I wanted that chair.

I needed that chair.

I coveted that chair.

Which leads me to that little thing called the tenth commandment.  "Thou shalt not covet they neighbor's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor's."

I felt pretty good through the first 25 words of the decree.  After all I didn't want Marcia's house, nor her maidservant, nor her ox, I didn't even want her, well, you know.  But her chair, oh how I wanted her chair.

I knew I was screwed when I reached the "nor anything that is thy neighbor's" part.

I was risking eternal damnation because of my desire for my neighbor's fabulous goose arm rocker.

And then it occurred to me that I might get off the hook if I could locate one just like it and acquire it legally.

The hunt began.

For months I scoured the internet.   Checked ebay.  Craig's list.  Watched the local paper for any sign of a goose arm chair for sale, or even for rent.  (I was desperate.)

My search turned up empty.  Apparently all of the goose arm chair owners were just like Marcia and preferred to retain their rights.  And honestly, who could blame them.

And then last weekend Marcia appeared at my back door with a tiny slip of paper in hand.  It was an advertisement from the local newspaper for a swan neck rocker.  Could it be?

I made the call.

I scheduled a time to look at the chair.

I took Marcia along to authenticate it.

As I approached the old farmhouse my heart was beating wildly in my chest.  Could it possibly be the right chair?

And there it sat in all of it's goose arm glory, faded and worn, badly in need of a little TLC and some embossed blue denim fabric.



For a mere $85 it could be mine.




The deal was sealed.  The chair was gently stowed in the back of the car and I smiled the whole way home.

Upon arriving back at the cottage The Kid met me wearing a look of concern and attempted to throw cold water on my excitement.

"Maybe Marcia doesn't want you to have a chair just like hers," he said.

"Then Marcia shouldn't give me want ads," I retorted.

And just like that I'm back on track.  No more worries about breaking commandments and eternal damnation.

At least not this week.

Is It Wrong

Is it wrong to purchase fabric to recover a chair that one does not yet own?

I think not.

The Kid, not so much.  Quite honestly I believe that he believes that with this little purchase I plunged over a very dangerous cliff.  Never. To. Return.

Perhaps he is correct.

It happened several weeks ago on a shopping foray with the design team.  We found ourselves perusing the cluttered shelves of a discount fabric store in Erie.  On my radar that fateful day was fabric to make cushions for our dining room chairs.  I spied the perfect candidate almost upon entering the building.  My day was over.  Or so I thought.

After wandering the cluttered isles for an hour and giving unsolicited advice to the remaining members of the D-team my eyes were drawn to a far corner of the room.  Hidden beneath stripes and florals and bathed in a golden glow it called to me.  Seriously,  I swear I heard harps playing as I slowly approached that golden light.

Really I did.

It didn't take long to drag the bolt out of the corner and spread it lovingly on the cutting table for a closer look.

It was perfection.

A beautiful blue, embossed denim that would be just right for the new chair in the sun room.

New chair?

What new chair?

The fact that I didn't own a new chair, or even an old chair, did nothing to deter me.  Especially when I discovered that only eight yards remained of the denim dream, and if I purchased the entire eight yards I could have it for a mere $6.50 a yard.

Who could resist?

Certainly not me.

Which brings me to the place I have been for the past two months, hording fabric for a chair I did not own.



Until yesterday.

to be continued.

The Witch of The Pines

Legend has it that many, many years ago a wicked witch resided in the Land Where the Dandelions Grow.   She lived high on a hill in a tiny little house that could barely be seen through the pines and always, always kept one of her evil eyes focused squarely on the residents of the little cottages that lined the lake shore below.

I don't believe she had a wart on her chin or a cauldron filled with fish eyes and toadstools bubbling away in her fire place, but there was a step-son whom it is said she could have treated more kindly.  It was also rumored that after the wife of one of the cottage people passed away she would swoop down the hill on her broom late at night to comfort the bereaved widower.



The Witch of the Pines was long gone before I arrived in the Land Where The Dandelions Grow so I can only speak of legend.  But I know one thing for certain,  some beautiful rhododendrons have grown and thrived in the ashes of her evil ways.

Perhaps her heart had a soft spot after all.

Let The Fun Begin

Still painting.

Still rearranging.

All boxes unpacked.

Only one item remains in the barn to be brought down to the house.

The dock and the boat are in the water.

Let the fun begin.

She Did It

Nursing school isn't easy.  I know.  I did it.  The thing is that when I started down that road I was eighteen with nothing on my plate but school (and men).  My job was to do the best that I could and successfully complete three years of training, graduate and hopefully find employment.  There were ups and downs along the way but mostly it was full speed ahead with big RN spotlighted at the finish line.

Not so for her.

At the age of forty she found herself unexpectedly standing in the unemployment line.  The good paying job with one of the top freight companies in the country nothing but a bittersweet memory.  There she was, a single Mom with two growing boys to feed and clothe, car payments to make and a house to maintain. What was she to do?

After a year of trauma, drama and a fruitless job search I received this phone call:

Her:  Aunt Sue,  I have made a decision.  I'm going to nursing school.

Me:  Silence.

Me:  More silence, as I attempted to pick my jaw up off the floor where it had dropped in shock.

Her:  Aunt Sue?  Are you there?

Me:  I'm here.  Just trying to wrap my head around this.

Her:  You don't think it's a good idea?

Me:  I think it's a great idea.  But, but....you can't stand hospitals or the sight of blood or anything that is remotely related to nursing.  Do you think you can do this?

Her:  I can.  I don't ever want to be unemployed again.

And so it began.  Armed with little more than guts and gumption and weighed down by a backpack overflowing with responsibilities her  journey towards the coveted RN commenced.

There were trials along the way, both at home and at school.  But with a small village of supporters to lean on in the bad times she pulled herself up and persevered.  It was one step at time; one day at a time.

I remember one particular phone call just about a year ago.  She was finishing up her most difficult semester.  There was too little time.  Too little cash.  Too little of her to go around.  She was going to quit.  She just couldn't do it any longer.  I'll spare you the details of that lengthy conversation, but it is one I will remember always.

She didn't quit.

She turned the corner and found that big bright RN firmly in place waiting for her at the finish line.

Last week, with her village of supporters present, she crossed that finish line.  No, that's not quite right, she sprinted, with a smile as big as Texas and her boys by her side.  Not only did she finish but she did so in grand style.  She had been nominated by her instructors and voted on by her peers to be the key note speaker at graduation.

She did it her way.  With steadfast determination, hard work and a quirky sense of humor.  She walked the walk and now talks the talk of a nurse.  Along the way she set an example of commitment and strength of character for her boys that will last a life time.

As she led her class of graduate nurses out of the auditorium with that smile firmly in place I thought back on that long ago phone call and wondered how I ever doubted her.



Today she she starts her new job.  The one with a title that has initials on the end.

I think she knows this but it doesn't hurt to tell her again.

Congratulations Jodi.  I couldn't be more proud of you or love you any more if you were my own.

Not Quite Ready For Prime Time

Did you think I forgot about you?  Got lost on the way north?  Or worse yet, that The Kid got tired of my chatter and left me stranded and alone on the side of the road?

Fortunately none of the aforementioned took place. (Although it was touch and go for awhile on the stranded and alone on the side of the road scenario. It is a long drive from Florida to Pennsylvania.)  We arrived at the lake two weeks ago, hit the ground running, and haven't yet come up for air yet.

We found Little Red all grown up but not quite ready for prime time.  I can tell you that she is beautiful.  Darn near perfect.  Her new rooms flow well and have added the storage space we so desperately needed.  She retains enough of the old to maintain the charm that grabbed hold of my heart three years ago yet she is clean and bright and warm and cozy and very much updated.

Sigh.

I love her.

And now the fun begins.  The walls were left primed as I have a difficult time choosing paint colors from a distance.  Thus I have had a paint brush in hand almost every day for two weeks.  I'm not finished yet, but making progress.  Also the yard is a MESS.  There is a 20 foot radius of dirt and debris around the house that we are in the process of grading and raking in preparation for seed and straw.  Hopefully that task will be completed before next weekend.  There are big plans for the exterior but unfortunately no funds  to execute those plans immediately.  Walkways and patios will be added over the next few summers, which means those plans will be revised and changed numerous times before they are finished.

I promise pictures will be forthcoming once I get the last of the paint on the walls and the remainder of our things moved down from the barn where they have been stored for the past eight months.  It's all in the details people.

Details take time.

I Will Return

Have you given up on me?  I promise I will get with the program eventually.  But for now posts will be intermittent at best.



The car is packed and heading north.  When we arrive at Little Red in a couple of days things will be hectic and we will not have internet service until after May 6th.

Keep the faith, I will return.

Plenty of Nothing

I know.

I know.

It has been a week since my last post.

But folks,

I've got nothing.

Okay,  so there is one little story rattling around in that void between my ears .  It has been rattling around now for almost a week but I can't seem to find the right words to put it together.

Perhaps it needs to rattle around a little longer.

In the mean time we are packing and preparing to close up shop here in increasingly hot and humid south Florida.  That's right peeps, it's almost time to head north.

My BAA south walking buddy is already gone.  And I miss her.  I do.

I wonder if she bought her some skinny jeans on the trip north?

I wonder if Little Red is finished?

I wonder if this makes any sense?


You see what I mean?

Nothing.

It Still Works

Dusting off the macro lens.

Amazingly it still works after all of these months.

An Old Friend

Over the weekend I ran into an old friend.

We haven't spent much time together in quite some time.

Our greeting was tentative at best.

She was still reeling from the sting of my rejection.

But soon the old familiarity returned,

And we picked up where we left off several months ago.

My camera and me.



We made plans to spend more time together.

Even toying with attempting another 365 Project.

But for now,

we're both content to shake off the cobwebs

and see where life takes us.

Touch and Go

Do you know how hard it is to take sharp pictures while drifting along on moving current in a kayak?

Very.

My images from our little expedition did not do the day justice.

And my kayak?

It was taking on water.

My flip flops were floating in the bottom of said vessel.

Eventually I called it a day and handed my camera bag over to the Art Teacher for safe keeping.

It was touch and go there for awhile.

I thought I was on the Titanic.

Into The Mangroves

Finally.

The moon and the stars aligned.

On a perfect Wednesday morning beneath a robin's egg blue sky and puffy white clouds our little boats were launched.



I had been wanting to do some kayaking, south Florida style, for several years.  But The Kid is not an adventurer when it comes to small boats and hot sun and I wasn't about to go it alone.  Not here.  Not where the weather can turn on a dime and the mangrove lined channels have more twists and turns than a 50 pound box of pretzels.

Here there is safety in numbers.  And so I waited.

Patiently.

And one day.

Yesterday.

The moon and the stars aligned and the Dentist, the Art Teacher and the Photographer set sail across the wide expanse of bay.

Into the mangroves.



There is another world among the mangroves.



Silent.  Peaceful.  Calm.



At times the channel was so narrow there was no choice but to proceed single file.



Sun light slid through the trees casting shadows across the water.



A few crabs darted along submerged roots.  But there were others. (I'm convinced of it.)  Lurking in the safety of the shadows.  Watching our progress with curious eyes.



But the beauty was in the dance.

Of light and dark.

The tango of the sun on the tangled roots of the Mangrove.



And it was spectacular.

Feeding Time

Feeding time at the zoo.



You have to have a few screws loose to do this for a living.



Just saying.

Making Memories

The sun was shining.  The sky was blue.  The water smooth as glass.

It was a perfect day for making memories.



Memories of deserted islands in the middle of the ocean.



Of casting the line and waiting impatiently for that little tug on the other end.



Of gathering shells cast by the thousands onto a sandy beach.



of laughing with family.



And long walks along the shore.



Memories of time spent with Grammy



And sand squishing between little toes.



Of playing in the cool Gulf water,

and not minding it one little bit.



It surely was a perfect day for making memories.

Were You Wondering

In case you have been wondering where I have been this week....



These two munckins are in town.  And no, I didn't boil water.



Nor did I purchase a camel.



But we're having a great time anyway.

March Madness

I'm not talking about that little ole basketball tournament taking place around the country either.  Although I could be what with the Cinderella darling of the tourny, FGCU,  residing a mere 20 miles to our north.  Folks around here are down right giddy about that formerly unknown team.

What I'm talkin about is the WEATHER.  What happened to spring?   Did it hybernate with the bears and forget to set the alarm clock?  Did it take an extended European vacation and lose its passport?  Seriously, I want to know.  What's up with the weather?

We have lived in south Florida for 17 years (now there's a blog post in and of itself) and this is by far the coldest March we have ever witnessed.  Typically March comes in like a lamb and exits like a playful puppy.  Not this year.  March roared in on the lion express and has held south Florida hostage ever since.

I see those northern eyes rolling.  You have no sympathy for my plight.  But seriously folks, a frost warning?  In south Florida?   On the 27th of March?  Impossible.  Unthinkable.  Unheard of.  Rediculous.  I am more than a little tired of the cold and the wind.  Usually by this time the pool temperature is hovering around the 80 degree mark.  This year?  It is a whopping 62 degrees.

My babies are coming tomorrow.  What's a Grammy to do?



I guess I'll start boiling water.

Little Red Update

This was me upon arrival at the cottage two weeks ago.  I was a sreaming gull swooping in on an unsuspecting contractor and his crew.  I was frustrated, angry and screeching at anyone who came within ear shot.



The cottage was a mess.  I am aware that it is currently a construction zone and that dirt and debris come with the territory.  What I was upset about was an apparent lack of concern for protecting what was there that would be saved i.e. the wood flooring installed 15 months ago and the bathroom that was finished last summer.  Add to that the disappointment of what I had invisioned versus the end product and you could say I was bummed.

More than a little.

After returning to Florida on Sunday evening upset and disappointed, I received an email on Wednesday announcing that the kitchen cabinets had arrived earlier than expected.  A little tinkering with the contractor's schedule and some smart travel research on The Kid's part had me hopping a plane on Saturday morning and making my way back north.

What a difference a week makes. What I found when I arrived was a much tidier Little Red.  Most of the trash and debris had been removed from the premises. The wood floors had been cleaned and recovered (there was concern that the entire floor might have to be replaced) and the bathroom emptied of its junk.  My spirits were lifted.

The second trip was a quickie with my entire visit minus one night spent at the cottage.  Apologies to family for sneaking in and out but there just wasn't time for anything else.

Little Red is now sporting 70% of her new red coat.  A break in current weather conditions will be necessary to complete the job.



The exterior will require some "creative" landscaping in order to minimize some of the design flaws.  Flaws on the exterior only, inside the placement of doors and windows makes perfect sense and works well for good traffic flow.  On the exterior we have large spaces with no windows and one area where several windows are clustered together.  It's all about compromise people.



This is the view as you step inside the new entry, much lighter and brighter.



And the view from the kitchen looking north.



I was extremely excited to see the crew who arrived to install the cabinets.  They are my favorite team of workers and I had not expected to see them again.





Down the hall is our brand new second bedroom.  Well actually it is the original bedroom reconfigured.  It remains small but serves the purpose.  No more sleeping on the porch for overnight guests.  That is unless they want to!



The new master is a nice size and looks out on the lake.



The dresser in the photo (covered in sheet rock dust), is our new bathroom vanity.  I'll let you know how that works for us.



The doorway in the upper left-hand corner leads to a utility room.  It's a little unconventional having the laundry room off of the master bedroom but we think it will work well.



Above is the new master bath.

And below is the lake side view of the cottage taken on my first trip north.  The siding on this side is now completely installed.



And there you have it.

The contractor and I worked on some of my concerns during my last visit.  A couple of brain storming sessions with The Kid on speaker phone and the design team standing by for consult did the trick.

The next time I see her she will be finished.

At least that's what they tell me.

I'm not holding my breath.