Stumble ,Stumble,Crawl,Crawl!

As I sit here pondering.......pondering what, I'm not sure. Although there is a lot going on inside the cranium, it seems the thoughts are being sucked through the black hole into the depth of my brain, I think. Sounds silly, even to the point of ridiculous, however, "it is what it is!" Perhaps the events of the day are to blame, sure as hell "it ain't me babe!" Dear God, shades of Sonny and Cher! We'll blame that little gem on 107.7FM. Stuck in a traffic gridlock today,scanning the airwaves, "I've Got You Babe" fills the fume laden air I am now sucking in. That was also compliments of some piece of crap Geo idling directly in front of me. From what I could see this vehicle was held together by bungee cords, two wrapped around the remnants of a muffler and one holding the back hatch closed. Interesting though, the bungee cords and car color matched....dingy blue.

Sitting in traffic with an occasional false hope of movement, temperature hovering close to ninety (much too early for these temps), my immediate neighbor to the right, a brightly colored vehicle of blood red is being driven by a surly and strange looking middle aged man, unkempt appearance, literally dirty blonde hair and a scraggly beard,reminding me of the pirate movie "Yellowbeard". Having just gotten off the phone with my little buddy, Jack Henry, his prized birthday present of a pirate ship, only seemed to make my neighbor "Yellowbeard", all the more realistic. Scenes from the movie racing through my tired brain, the slow painful movement of traffic can only mean one thing, "stumble, stumble, crawl, crawl!" Aye Mate, ye's a tad off your rocker, ain't that the truth!

It has been a warm winter, snow birds and tourists have flocked to this tropical paradise in droves. We have welcomed them with opened arms, they are the mainstay of this economy. It is moments like this, my weary mind in a frenzied state of TGIF (clarification: my work week Friday), I want to drive like the wind. My love of late afternoon tropical setting sun, warm breezes rustling the majestic palms and swaying Spanish moss laden cypress trees, is now being invaded by a death star burning oil as well as my lungs,(that would be the dingy blue Geo), Yellowbeard's identical twin (blood red car on the right) and let us not forget, Sonny crooning to Cher.

In the distance, I am now able to see the flashing lights of a law enforcement vehicle. Could be a state trooper or a county sheriff, regardless they both give tickets, often. Trust me on this one, the voice of experience knows all too well the sick minds of the "County Mounties!". bored beyond belief, tired a sitting in traffic, not being able to reach my CD carrier, horrible tunes on the radio, I begin talking to the air, "wonder if this is a bad accident?" It is then I decide to call 511. If for no other reason than to occupy my mind. "Thankyou for dialing 511,please say or press one for menu options." Naturally I say one. What comes next is NOT a menu option. Hola(hello), por favor and a number of other Spanish directions are penetrating my brain. Hmm, must of said something other than one. During that fifteen second Spanish language spiel and with limited Spanish comprehension skills, I could of sworn I heard the word queso(cheese), but then again it might be the hunger pains now ravishing my body or the effects of the death star belching and puffing its toxic fumes, even Yellowbeard is beginning to look normal. He can't be all that bad, looks like he's sucking down a Dunkin Donut's iced coffee, lucky bastard!

As the flashing lights get closer,traffic once again seems to be moving, this time for real. I see no accident nor the remnants of one. Instead, one puffy,proud as a peacock sheriff, aiming a radar gun into the oncoming traffic is spoiling my much needed tension release easy drive home, now that really ticks me off. Yet there is some consolation, the tag team of troopers is now in the process of pulling over the disease ridden death star, also known as the dingy blue Geo. Half expecting to see the trooper emerge from his vehicle with a gas mask (he is going to need one), I am pleased to hear a number of frustrated drivers honking their horns and thrusting their thumbs up sign as they applaud the troopers choice. Much like a pack of wolves in the midst of a hunt, they have culled the herd, preying on the weakest and are now going in for the kill! Even the scraggy beard, dirty blond neighbor a.k.a Yellowbeard, seems delighted. Stumble, stumble, crawl, crawl is now a distant memory. Windows opened, radio blaring(Adele filling the airwaves), life is good, the world alright and TGIF!

Orange Blossom Oblivion!

Although the official Spring season not arriving until March 20th this year, the weather this past week, absolutely gorgeous.  Nights just cool enough, a sweater necessary to ward off the chill, perhaps a warming fire pit as well, would do the job.  But it is the season of the senses here in Florida, one can get a natural high from the scent of the orange blossoms, even more pungent in the dark coolness of the Florida nights.  Breathe in, breathe out, close your eyes and dazzle your senses, amazing the effects of the sweet orange blossoms.

Daytime, an additional delight as butterflies and hummingbirds join the masses of bees, all hurriedly darting back and forth from flower to flower.  The gardenias, sending the senses into a sweet delirium, making outside chores and lazy afternoon lounging, a delight.  Many of our northern friends not quite understanding the reasons we anxiously await the arrival of Spring here in this tropical paradise.  They question us with that "deer in the headlights" look, "isn't it always green and flowery in Florida?"  Truth be known, no.  Although there is always something growing, cool weather flowers helping to make the brown landscapes and barren trees more tolerable, it is basically a time for Mother Nature to take a much needed vacation.  Obviously, this year, she must have shortened her vacation, the winter season much milder than the previous three or four.  Perhaps her plans for a summer vacation have come into play instead.  Old timers saying, "Yep, mild winter, could be a brutal summer!"  Forever an optimist, maybe Mother Nature is taking a vacation at Disney World this summer and not conjuring up a brutal hurricane season or rains of monsoon like proportions!  Hey she needs a bit of time off too!

The reason for the season and the true meaning of Equinox is "equal night."  It is the time when all the world has equal hours of sunlight and nighttime, the sun being positioned directly over the equator.
For our earlier ancestors, it meant a time their foods would be restored.  I am sure it is no coincidence the Egyptians built the Great Sphinx so that it points directly towards the rising sun on the day of the Vernal Equinox.  But then, was it just the Egyptians that built these wonders of the world.  Earlier drawings show a people with elongated shaped heads and necks.  Warp speed to the future, I do believe I saw creatures with the same features in "Star Wars" or was it "Lost in Space?"  Regardless, basking in sunlight, soaking up the sights and sounds of a Florida springtime, I am sounding more and more like I am ascending (a high) into Orange Blossom Oblivion!

A Rainy Day Thought

Daylight savings time, usually associated with Spring, more hours of being awake, the world renewed, we think all things new and rejuvenated. Here in Florida, the winter months of less sunlight hours only seems to accentuate the additional time in which to view the beauty of this tropical paradise. As with most springtime seasons, the world of "sleeping beauty", Mother nature herself, has opened her delicate eyes, reaching towards the heavens as the rays of warmth radiate forth. She stretches her delicate appendages as grasses turn to emerald green, the redbuds swollen, burst forth and the vivid colors almost seems to splash the earth with a rainbow of colors. Yes, the sights and scents remind us of the beauty that surround us and dazzle every delicate breathe we take. There is nothing more heavenly than the scent of the orange blossoms and gardenias. The delicate sweetness these gorgeous blossoms produce, send honey bees and intricately colored butterflies into a frenzy.

Today's springtime shower, washing away all the remmnants of the yellowish lime green pollen that has coated any and all available surfaces, once again the fresh and new world, is spotless. After a dry warmer winter than normal, the young tender shoots and swollen buds soaking up, almost gulping the refreshing moisture that the ominous storm clouds have produced. A brisk walk in the spring shower, fueled by the southwesterly winds is very invigorating. An umbrella from the heavier downpour is all one needs to enjoy watching the creatures play in the quickly rising pools and swift running streams, instantly created by the over abundance of water on the dry harden grounds. The winds of spring have begun to clean the preserve of the dry rotted mulch left from the leaf drop of the previous autumn season. We can now see the chipmunks, squirrels and little mice emerge, but then so can our favorite hunters, the owls and the osprey. A fine and delicate balance our friend Mother Nature has created, survival of the fittest or at least the fastest!

A good day to sit on the porch, perhaps reading a favorite book or just writing about a bunch of little nothings that we always take for granted. Looking at a rather large Sunday newspaper with its weekly magazine, a small comment catches my eye, Springtime in Paris! Now that fuels the thought process. The trees that line the banks of the Siene must be swollen by now, the blossoms waiting to burst forth. The ornate architecture of each building waiting to be decorated with the multitudes of window boxes, blossoms spilling forth, adding color to the dark and gothic structures that stand guard protesting the secrets of the City of Lights.

Perhaps it is just the spring season that brings this endless amount of energy, but then a certains someone reminds me that is pretty much me, everyday! Perhaps it's just the need to pack so much into my daily life that produces this energy, for sure is not sugar consumption! A walk in the rain, a walk in the sunlight, both produce the same invigorating feelings. I am reminded of a conversation with a friend who has a physical disability, "what I used to take for granted, I now hold closest to my heart. Good, bad or indifferent, rain is rain, but a walk whether in the sunlight, rain or alone, I long for a walk, a long walk!"

Friendship...At a Cost

"Words are easy, like the wind; Faithful friends are hard to find," a quote from the master, William Shakespeare. The relationships we build must be nurtured, their very survival dependent upon a rock solid foundation.  Without trust, neither friendship nor marriage survives.  But the question always remains; once that trust is compromised can any relationship survive?  Perhaps, depending on the  individuals involved. Wondering what provoked this train of thought, all you have to do is look and listen to the media. As with most "news worthy releases," its all about money, always is. We as a people love controversy, exploitation of other's misfortunes, whether created by the individual or just plain old fashioned gossip and a need to have the "scoop" on someone.  While we bask in the glory of "breaking the story," we fail to realize nor care that blood has been drawn.  For what reason the sharp edge sword rears its ugly head truly baffles me.

Case in point, Tiger Woods.  He was wrong, admittedly so, yet there have been others too numerous to count or remember that have committed the same misdeeds, but then he was the games' savior. Tiger has paid the price, he continues to do so, sadly only a few of his friends speaking out in his defense.  The game needs Tiger just as he needs the game.  During the span of this young man's career, he has been befriended by those whom he thought he could trust, sadly for the love of money, jealousy or wanting to break the story, a man he counted on and confided in, now rears his ugly head.

Just as the publics' thirst for more Tiger stories of infidelities, illegitimate off-springs, wild rough sex encounters and the like have begun to wane, his former swing coach Hank Haney announces a tell all book about his Tiger years, will be released a week before the Masters.  Poor taste on Mr. Haney's part, great marketing perhaps, but poor taste.  Did his fame come from being a great swing coach or was it because he coached one of the greatest golfers of all time?  His face and name no longer in the forefront, his decision to be hurtful should once again fill his bank accounts, so much for friendship. Advertisers and investors thrilled, the audience will triple but questions must be asked, why will they watch?  Will Tiger falter and those who desire the game of golf be returned to the elite few, finally have their way? Will they watch, encouraging him or will they pray he humiliates himself? 

As with all rich and famous, we love and envy them, we embrace their lives, placing them on the highest pedestal, we forget they are human just as are we!  Aside from all their money, we want them to be role models, we want our children to "grow up and be just like them." We forget, we are our childrens' role models. We throw slurs, we propagate rumors, we bask in the glory of "breaking the story" and we place the blame for society's misdeeds on anyone other than ourselves.

Angel Notification

Looking at the beauty surrounding us, we often take for granted everything! Just as the sun rises and sets we sleep, we work, play and each day the process begins anew. More often than not we think only of daily activities, planning perhaps but on the scope of largeness and the infinite possibilities that lie before us. or that are even presented knowingly and unknowingly to us, we often do not recognize or acknowledge their existence.

Perhaps my daily travels offer more contemplation time, yet when trying to rest the weary body, much like the newborn baby whose inner clock flip flops, my contemplation time is in the darkness and silence of the wee night time hours. More than likely it is just the stubbornness of the mind that has been fighting for front line recognition all day, now as the body drift towards dream time, the brain says "I don't think so! My time to be heard."  The body, too tired to resist says, "okay make it quick!"  Realizing much of my skills as a communicator rely on being precise, making quick decisions and providing up to the minute information, allowing things to proceed at a rapid pace, the tangent personality that has been suppressed during the entire day, now has free run.  Not good!

Sleepy time usually means exhaustion, flop into bed, instant sleep for thirty to forty five minutes, awakening to an imaginary inner alarm clock, my brain, giving me that little devious smile announces, "excuse me, but you didn't let me wind down and share my inner thoughts, again.  A large part of me remains unused, sleeping or being totally ignored for most of the day, while the body does its thing, now YOU must pay for this abuse!"  No longer able to fight this naughty childlike tantrum, I open my eyes and "let the games begin!"

Earlier conversations from the day, all fighting for recognition, screaming to make their point come flying to the forefront and as if the spinning wheel stops, the first one pops out. Angels are the first to appear. Thankfully, this was a happy upbeat conversation. Simple asked by a young lady, "Do you believe in Angels?" "Of course I do, why do you ask?" I question.  With a seriousness and sincerity well beyond her years, she begins, "I do too, but I question my faith." she reveals.  Again, the look, I see the wheels of thought rapidly turning.  As they grind to a halt, the question of affirmation is re-asked, "have you ever seen an angel?" 

With the death of my mother, the security of knowing you always had a parent you could talk to, was laid to rest.  Mom was almost eighty-three and had outlived my Dad by twelve years.  In the scope of time, she was sick only a relatively short period.  During that time, she forced me to learn, this decision was out of my hands.  She was torn, leaving her daughters and grandchildren was not going to be easy, but she took comfort in knowing, she would be reunited with the love of life, our Dad.  Happy at the thought, as her soul ascended to her heavenly body, she would once again be whole.  No pain,  no suffering, Dad and her reunited would be as one.  Her faith, unshaken, she would prepare herself.  If questioning thought invaded her weary mind, she justified them.  Sharing, she feared, Dad would "see" her as frail, hair falling out in clumps, and her outward physical appearance altered by a mastectomy.  "Mommy, Dad will see you as you are, a beautiful spirit, an undying love, he awaits Mommy, are you afraid?" I softly questioned.  Mustering all her strength, her voice barely audible, she squeezes my hand, "Yes my youngest daughter, I am afraid.  Afraid of leaving all of you, afraid it might not be as I hoped, but my faith has brought me here, it will get me through.....and...with a tightness in her hand and a gentle calm in her eyes, she reveals, "Thank God Daddy was a leg man!"

About a month or so after Mom had passed, the homestead sold, my sister Patty back in Arizona handling the details of the estate, receives a call.  Although nothing is there, the caller ID reveals the name of our Dad, Arthur McKenna.  Thinking she is crazy, she looks again, "how can this be? The phone was turned off a month ago, taken from the house.  Who even knows me?"  She collects her thoughts, "I must take a picture  of this!"  Sending it via email to me and her nephews, she is at a loss for words.  As with all things, they happen for a reason!    Mom and Dad reunited in the heavens above, Dad let us know.  Think what you may! Yes, there are angels, perhaps not always seen and yes, I believe in angels.

Golf, Survival of the....Marriage!

Okay, so let's talk golf, my favorite sporting past time.  Hitting that little white ball looks so simple, yeah not so much.  Although I didn't start playing golf until the kids were older and I had more time to do something for myself,  it meant spending time outside, hopefully basking in the warmth of the sun.  As a much younger person, I could sun-bathe for hours, just keep lathering on the protection and I was good to go,  listening to loud music, soaking up the rays...outstanding!  As the aging process began, the thought of laying around, listening to music in the sunlight, was not much more than a distant memory.  My mind wouldn't rest and allow me a chance to lie in that sun induced vegetative state, doing absolutely nothing!

Enjoying the game of baseball,  my thought process being, golf should be easy.  No longer wanting to run the bases, the knees a bit weary from playing catcher, walking a golf course would be a sophisticated adult form of exercise.  Heading to the local driving range with a mix and match set of golf clubs, I felt very confident. For the record, there is NOTHING natural about swinging a golf club. Admitting, had I started the game as a toddler, my flexibility would have allowed for such movement.  At age forty, not so much!  But I persevered, manly to prove my husband wrong.  All the while knowing his reverse psychology of  "you will never be a golfer," would tick me off enough to prove him wrong!

The process of learning the game of golf began with lessons from Mr. Bill, proof we have a solid marriage, although I am sure there were times he feared for his life.  On occasion he sought transportation home from some one other than his pissed off wife. Not so much because he didn't want to ride with me,  I had thrown his clubs off the cart, leaving the course without him. He deserved it!  Understand, the thought of clubbing him to death did appear as a pop-up in the brain, thankfully never taking a firm hold.  Once I learned, throwing your club after an errant shot proved to be a useful way to relieve tension, remembering to throw them in a forward direction, was an added bonus stress reliever, he never had to hitch a ride again!

Almost twenty years have passed since those name calling, club throwing days of golf. He now plays much more golf than I, only because retirement has afforded him the time, working at the golf course makes the game affordable.  He is a formidable opponent for many and as team, we rock. His patience with my game is outstanding, reminding me, "you do fine considering you never get to practice." He's pretty smug, he shoots his age, not every time, but he's pretty consistent.  I, on the other hand, will never shoot my age, unless of course I am still playing well, at age eighty three.  Who am I fooling, I'll just be happy to make it to eighty-three!

Oh the Fog!

"Just wait a minute, the weather will change," a statement I remember hearing as a child.  Although it referenced New England weather, it was also a testament to hearty souls living within this picturesque northern climate, yet it pretty much sums up the sunny tropical paradise known as Florida as well.  Maybe it followed me and the multitude of New Englanders that call the sunshine state, home. I really don't know, but case in point, with a quick reassuring tap to the old "wooden noggin," hurricanes: since three hit this area of the peninsula state halfway through the first decade of the new millennium, nope, nada, none, dare raise their ugly heads again.  For the record, Walt Disney himself, researching central Florida weather patterns, knew this long before I arrived! The flip side of the coin, violent thunderstorms are numerous, may be treacherous, are extremely dangerous, and much to my husband's chagrin, a regular occurrence during spring and summer months. However, the emphasis  needs be on  tropical sunshine and warmth especially during the winter months. The local newspaper reporting, "fantastic winter weather drives tourism and agriculture in Florida," not really a news flash, but in the spirit of "take the good with the bad," it's reportable!

A weather phenomenom not normally mentioned and extensively reported on unless tragedy strikes, is FOG. Although it occurs worldwide, London first coming to mind, for the record, I would not feel hurt if  the British cornered the market on this silent, eerie mass of moisture that shrouds the landscape in an instant, making people do crazy things.  Associating a full moon with outlandish, strange and even bizzare antics, FOG if often forgotten!  Some little know facts:  Drivers, undaunted by over head signage, "use caution, HEAVY FOG ahead," put the pedal to the metal, hit the passing lane and they are gone! Simply put, Why?  Are they more afraid of this dense, seemingly endless mass of quietness that rolls swiftly, enveloping all who venture into its black endlessness?  Are they claustrophobic and in the face of danger and a need to reach the other side, they drive with reckless abandonment, threatening all in close proximity to their madness? Or do they just throw caution to the wind saying, "what the #%*@?

As a person who enjoys her late evening rides, radio blaring, windows open, the endless star-studded skies with an occassional falling star on which to make a wish, the FOG although sinister and mysterious, is a time to open windows, heat on, no radio and drive at reasonable speeds and listen.  The quietness and solitude very much a rush, the dampness cleansing the spirit, the endlessness breathing new life into the weary brain, drained from activities of the day. The FOG, washes the landscape, Mother Nature's way of saying, "move my children, under my cloak of secrecy. Watch, observe and explore and for the sake of well being, do not venture far on the highways and by-ways, humans and their strange ways cannot handle my spring cleaning!"