A Lame Story About a Lame Nap

 I envy those that have the ability to take a nap, every so often. 

Just lie down on the couch, head propped up on a pillow,
     and within seconds . . . . . .
                                                  checked out from the world. 
Some people fall asleep every time they sit down.
I have watched people like that, and it amazes me.

Today, I was doing very little good to myself or anyone around me,
     so I thought I would "give it a go".
Like a young child who has had it, and his parents ( or those witnessing the behavior ) say,

     "Time for a NAP!",

I was telling mySELF,

     "TIME FOR A NAP!"


The air conditioning inside was uncomfortably cool, so I sat outside on the warm deck.
Though the sun was hot, and the humidity - thick, it felt quite pleasant in the shade of the umbrella. 
My dog, Charlie, accompanied me, as he is always happy to be outside,
     and more so when one of his "people" is nearby.
I sat in one chair, and propped my feet up on the other,
     put my head back against the cushion and . . . . . . there.
I think I could be comfortable enough to fall asleep.

I thought about a story on Nightline last night, about meditation.
Just pay attention to your breathing, I told myself.
So, I did.

Breathe in through my nose, breathe out.
Breathe in through my nose . . .
     there's a bug on my leg - smack!      
Breathe in through my nose, breathe out.
Breathe in through my nose . . .
     itchy nose - rub, rub, scratch!

And, then . . . . . .

Look at those dead branches up there in the tree.  Some of them will have to go.
Maybe I will work on trimming some more trees on Sunday.  Yes, Sunday should be a good day.  That one tree should be taken down.  But, I will wait until winter, when the rates are lower.  I really don't like to take trees down, though.  But, this one looks unhealthy.  And, what am I going to do about the hot water?  It's not working.  I hope it is something simple. My daughter comes home from a long summer of camp tonight, and will be looking forward to a long, hot shower.  Speaking of hot, I think it is going to be quite hot at the baseball game tonight. I need to pay my mortgage.  Look at Charlie.  He found a cool stick.
 
Let's try this again. . . . . .

Breathe in through my nose, breathe out.
Breathe in through my nose, breathe out.
Breathe in through my nose . . .
     damn bug, again!

And . . . . . .

I wonder how long I have been sitting out here?  The bathroom needs cleaning.
Charlie, stop licking me. I need to remember to open the vent in my daughter's room so that it is not stuffy.
Why hasn't that agent responded to me?  Really frustrating.  I need to come up with a plan for the Fall.  It is almost August, already.  I wonder if there was hot water when I ran the dishwasher last night.

Ok, that's enough!  It's NOT happening.   

I GIVE UP.    

I envy those that have the ability to take a nap, every so often . . . . . .  

12 Pound Charlie

Recently, I went to pick up my dog, Charlie, from the boarding kennel,
     where he had spent the last four days. 

     "Oh, how we have LOVED Charlie, during his stay!" remarked the young girl at the counter.

     "Great!  Well, I LOVE that you LOVED him!" I responded.

      "Every time someone walked by him, he would pick up his toy and wag his tail," she said. 

     "Really?" I asked. 

Charlie is normally much more interested in people, than his toys,
     but I sent a toy and a blanket with him, because I would have felt like a bad parent
sending him with nothing  at all.  

The young girl preceded to look up his bill on the computer.

     "Let's see . . . . " she said. "Charlie is around 45 pounds, right?"

     "Um . . . . no.  He is approximately 12 pounds.  I think you have the wrong Charlie," I chuckled.   

The look of embarrassment showed on her face.    

     "Did you love MY Charlie, too?" I asked, laughing. 

     "Of course!  I am so sorry for the mix-up!" she said. 

     "As long as I go home with the RIGHT Charlie, I won't hold it against you," I commented.  

And, I took my 12 pound Charlie home.  

      

The Farmers Market of Bath County

I love going to farmers markets.

Not just for the beautiful produce, fresh cut flowers, freshly baked bread, 
     but, for the interesting people . . . . . .  their faces, and their stories.

I recently spent some time in Bath County, in the Allegheny Mountains of Virginia.

We arrived Friday evening - me, my friend, Gert, and my dog, Charlie,
     and I was thrilled to find out there would be a farmers market the following morning.

Coffee Pot Cabin

We awoke to a beautiful day . . . . . .  just waiting for us to live.

Strapped the leash on Charlie, strapped the camera to my shoulder,
     and stepped outside of Coffee Pot Cabin - our home away from home, for the next two days.

The farmers market was in the middle of the small, one-street town,
     inhabiting the gravel-covered parking lot, with a good amount of vendors,
but not so many that one could not take it all in.

I like to stroll around, casually, and look at everything once,  before making a second loop.
    
During this time, I am in my element, taking photos at my leisure, when the opportunities arise.

One gentleman asked if he should pose for me.

I think I caught him off guard when I pointed my camera in his direction,
     and said,

"Washington Post Guy"

     "Absolutely!"

Slightly flattered and slightly embarrassed,
     he commented that I must be a photographer for The Washington Post.

I just smiled and said,

     "You think so?"  . .  . . . not letting on, either way.

Let him wonder, I thought.

Besides, I liked the sound of that. 

Moving on, I had an interesting conversation with Catherine, who makes
     jewelry and hair accessories out of recycled cans and bottle caps.

"TrashionFashion", she calls it.

LOVE the name! 

Catherine stumbled onto the idea of making fashion out of trash, when she was writing her
      thesis for her doctorate degree.

She now travels all over, collecting unique "trash", meeting a lot of fascinating people, along the way.

Recycling seemed to be a popular theme amongst the vendors,
     as one of the local farmers, Bruce, and his daughter, Bryanna,
was selling beautiful, fresh cut flowers
     arranged in recycled Mountain Dew bottles.

I will keep this idea in mind, the next time I need a vase.  


Past the flowers, the vegetables, and the recycled trash, were some alpacas,
     which Charlie had just taken notice of, so we made our way over to meet them.     

The alpacas - two of them (one white, one brown), were very curious about Charlie.

Magnificent looking animals - extremely alert and intelligent,
     and there is a certain peace that you feel when you are in their presence.

Vanessa is the manager of the alpaca ranch, and she had on display
     some of the most luxurious and soft teddy bears and hand puppets
that I have ever laid my eyes on, as well as various clothing items
     - all made from the Alpaca fur, which, by the way,  is

HYPO-ALLERGENIC.       

After spending time with Vanessa and the alpacas, I now want to have my own alpaca farm.

If I ever do own an alpaca farm, however,
     Vanessa told me that I'd better have a llama on my property, as well.

The biggest predator of farm animals, in that area, is the coyote.

Apparently, llamas are extremely protective, and will stomp to death anything that comes into its path.

Interesting!

 
After saying good-bye to Vanessa and her alpacas,
     hunger was beginning to set in,
so we paid a visit to the only food vendor of the day -

Puff's BBQ.

I had a country ham sandwich and Gert had beef brisket. 

Smoked meat on a bun - simple and GOOD.

As we ate, we listened to live country and blue grass music,
     provided by a guitar strumm'n, banjo pick'n, fiddle fiddl'n couple,

who go by the name of 

" Bettr'n Nothn' ". 

Again . . . . . . LOVE the name. 

They would tell small stories, in between their songs,
     and I don't know if they were meant to be funny,
but they were reminiscent of Garrison Keillor. 

As a kid, I remember listening to "Prairie Home Companion" on many a road trip,
     from the back seat of the car.

Speaking of which, after several hours and several purchases at the market,

     it was time for us to hit the road. 

As we drove away, the one-street town grew smaller in the rear view mirror,
     and the sounds of " Bettr'n Nothn' " grew more faint,
but we carried with us some fond new memories.


And, sitting on the back seat of the car,
     was a brown paper bag full of farm fresh veggies
that would make a delicious meal, later that night,
     to be enjoyed on the small porch
of . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Coffee Pot Cabin.  
    

                            A day worth living, indeed.  

 

http://www.bacofarmmkt.com/

   


    



  

Douthat, Not Dalfat

I recently spent some time in Virginia's Allegheny Mountains.  

Driving along one of the tree-lined, country roads, I noticed a sign that read,

"Douthat State Park".

     "Douthat," I said aloud, as if it sounded familiar.

     "Douthat?  Like . . . . . . Dalfat?" I questioned.   

When I was a kid, my family and I went camping every summer,
     and one summer we went camping at "Dalfat" State Park.

D-A-L-F-A-T.   

That is how I saw it in my head, because that is how it always sounded when people spoke it.

I never saw it in writing.      


Over the years, my family would tell stories about when we camped at

     D-A-L-F-A-T.   

When you say that, by the way, make sure you add a "southern hick" twang.

My family does not speak that way, but for some reason, whenever the name was brought up,
     it was spoken with a "southern hick" twang.   

And, even though the two spellings do pretty much sound identical ( Dalfat.  Douthat.),
     somehow, this new discovery changes the way that I remember things.       

For instance: 


It means that when we saw the "nice lady" who was lying on the bathroom stall floor
    (probably strung out on drugs),

. . . . . . that was at Douthat, not DALFAT. 

And, those noisy camping neighbors -  the ones who talked all night,

. . . . . .that was at DOUTHAT, not Dalfat. 

And, when the campfire exploded, and burned holes in the chairs,
     my Winnie-the-Pooh blanket, and my FINGER ( yes, it hurt),

. . . . . . that was at Douthat, not Dalfat.

If you are thinking of visiting, please do not let my memory of these events deter you.

The park is beautiful.

There is a nice lake with boats for rent, a beach area, quaint little cabins nestled into the hillsides, 

     and ample places for camping.   

None of which I remembered from being there, as a child.

Maybe there IS a  D-a-l-f-a-t  Park . . . . . . somewhere ? ? ?

Hmmmm . . . . . .

I "doubt-that".   

http://www.dcr.virginia.gov/state_parks/dou.shtml

 

Be Still, My Heart ( Shaped Pizza )

The same day that I wrote about being cranky,
     I went to Whole Foods to take advantage of their "Two for Tuesday"
special - two pizzas for the price of one. 

I love my Whole Foods. 

It is the only "grocery" store that I can honestly say is a relaxing experience for me. 

As usual, friendly faces greeted me at the prepared food counter, as I asked about the pizza.

An adorably handsome and charming young man took my order
     ( 1 roasted veggie FOR ME, 1 cheese FOR THE KIDS, both wheat crust ),
and told me it would be about 20 minutes - an excuse for me to meander around the store
     and look at all of the cool and interesting ideas and items.    

When I returned for my pizzas, the young man said,
     
     "I have to show you something."  

He opened up the roasted veggie pizza box, and at first,
     I thought he was showing me that the crust was flawed -
it was not perfectly round; slightly flattened on one side.  

     " As long as it tastes good! "  I said.


As he closed up the box, he commented that the pizza was in the shape of a heart.

     " What?  Show it to me again, " I said.

When he reopened the box, THERE IT WAS. 

I could see that the crust had, indeed, been formed into the shape of a heart.

     "Flawed," I thought.  "Silly me." 


      "WOW!"  I said.  "No one has ever made me a heart shaped pizza before.  Thank you!"

The young man smiled and blushed, as one of his co-workers laughed and teased him.

As I walked away, I thought of three things:

1)  Isn't it funny how, at first,  my mood had effected how I saw the pizza -
          flawed instead of a work of art.  

                                                                     AND

2)  Just like when my kids were in preschool, always ask about the artwork first,
          before assuming that you know what it is. 
     That can be horribly embarrassing for both parties.

     Instead of :  

          "That's okay that the pizza crust is not perfectly round",

                                        I should have said, 

           "That pizza crust is not round.  What shape is that?" 

                                                                      AND

3)     It never ceases to amaze me how a simple act of human kindness can completely lift someones day. 

                                                       THANK YOU, PIZZA GUY ! 

      

Cranky

Am I seriously about to write a blog about being cranky?

YES I AM.

Why am I cranky?

Most of you could probably care less, and I wouldn't blame you.  

For those of you who don't, this is the point when you should stop reading.

STOP READING.  

This is your permission to go do something more important and worthwhile,
     like clean the dirt off the bottom of your shoes, or pluck your nose hairs. 

For those of you still here ( are you there?  are you there? ),
     please excuse me while I scuffle down this little narcissistic path, for a moment,
kicking a few rocks, in my way.     

I AM CRANKY.

When I announced this ( by text ) this morning, to a friend of mine,
     he texted back,

     "What brought it on?"

     "WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?"  I thought, in all of my crankiness.
     "CRANKY IS CRANKY! (regardless of the source).    

My battery was low ( on my cell phone ), so I did not respond back. 

But, I thought I would give it some thought,
     so, just as I would retrace my steps when something has been misplaced,
I tried to go back to the moment when I first started to feel this way.

It probably began the night before, after an argument with one of my teenage children.

A common occurrence, lately.  

It continued when I decided to watch a movie on DVD.

Normally, this would be a nice escape, however,
     the book that I was reading for my Book Club, in the midst of moving from one house to the other,
was not coming along at a rapid pace,   
     and I decided to try watching the movie to fill in the blanks.
 
The movie was about as exciting as the book, which only made me more irritated.

     "They made a movie out of this???" I thought.  

Barely an hour into it, I fell asleep.

The alarm went off way too early this morning, but I was already awake,
     as the sound of the trash truck awoke me at 6 a.m. ( and I had gone to bed at 1:30 ).

Three attempts to wake-up my teenage son for summer school, and he was finally up,
     but we were out the door later than we should have been.

Back at home, there were still boxes to be unpacked, toilets to be cleaned,
      floors to be mopped, closets to be organized, pictures to be hung,
trees to be trimmed (and I'm not talking Christmas), and (as I am saying this),
     MORE ADVIL that needs to be taken, as a result of all of the "tree trimming"
that was done over the weekend.

I'm feeling OLD!  

Thank goodness for my partner in crime, who helped TREMENDOUSLY.

I was more of his assistant, really.

He is also feeling the pain ( in case you were wondering ), but he is a few years older than I.  

In addition to the Advil, I have been smothering myself with Neosporin for all of the cuts and scrapes,
     and Benadryl,  for the potential patch of poison ivy,
which I have never experienced before (that I recall).

Guess it wasn't smart of me to be wearing flip flops when I was clearing out the ivy.  

There are also bills to be paid, a box that needs to be mailed to my daughter at camp,
     my car needs to be cleaned out, and my youngest son is asking a million questions,
making noise just to fill the air (which I know I will miss, one day),
and (like my poison ivy) . . . . . .  itching for something to do!

Why didn't I sign him up for camp ? ? ?

On the positive side, he does seem to enjoy my company, 
     and I do take responsibility for my personality.  

By that, I mean that the transition from "school year schedule" to summertime,
     is not always easy for me.
I like to have "quiet time" in the mornings, to give me a chance to reflect,
     to write, and to organize my day.
I don't like to have conversations in the morning,
     and most of all,

I DON'T LIKE QUESTIONS!  

My boys always have lots of questions.

Well, my 12 year old has lots of questions.

My 15 year old has lots of COMMENTS.

I am not sure which I like least.

LOVE MY BOYS, THOUGH !!! 

Anyways, I realize that I am probably not a lot of fun to hang out with in the mornings.

Unless, maybe, you are a librarian.

I would do well in a library, in the mornings.

"Shhhhhh!  NO TALKING!" 

Anyways, where am I going with this?

I'm not really sure, but one thing I realized is that there are two things that I have been neglecting, lately.

Two things that I was really making an effort to fit into my daily routine:  

Writing and Exercise. 

Lately, I have not made time for either, and, as I have mentioned in previous blog stories, 

     it makes me feel out of sync.  

That, and I could really use a vacation.  

I was really hating Facebook, this morning, as I was looking at all of the vacation photos. 

All of those happy, rested "friends" with suntans.  

Then, I looked in the mirror and saw this pale-skinned "person", looking back at me, 

     with well-formed bags under the eyes, and in need of a haircut.    

That vacation does not look like it is happening anytime soon, 

     but after I dropped my youngest off at a friend's house, 

Bon Jovi's, "Living On A Prayer" (playing on the radio),

and leftover Thai food (from the fridge) for lunch . . . . . . lifted my spirits. 

AND, I fit in some time for my writing, even if it is about being cranky.  

As for the exercise?  

That will have to wait - time to pick my son up from school and take him to his job. 

I may grab a dark chocolate Dove bar out of the freezer, on my way out.

Chocolate, also, helps to relieve cranky behavior.  

 
   







    


















 

My New Neighbors

To the left, lives a nice couple (Jen and Doug) with two adorable little boys.
 Jen and the boys, 5 (and a half) and 2, brought over two delicious plates of brownies,
     which MY two adorable (not so little) boys scarfed down before the day's end.
 They gave us all of the "scoop" on which community pool to join,
     and a few of the social events coming up in the neighborhood.
 I met Doug when my boys and I were out pruning trees.
 He was thrilled to see us cutting down many of the unruly branches, and offered his help.
 Apparently, the previous homeowners did not do much in the way of yard work.

Across the street, lives a military couple. 
The wife, Molly,  is a retired "empty nester", and the husband works at the Pentagon. 
They have 3 grown children (all out of the house), whom are all 15 MONTHS APART.

     "Where we were stationed," she said, " there was nothing better to do!"

GOTTA LOVE A GOOD SENSE OF HUMOR. 

We had a very enjoyable conversation, which I sensed that neither of us wanted to end,
     as she shared a little bit of the history of the neighborhood.
I look forward to talking to Molly again.   
   

To the right, lives a woman from Thailand (Becky), who has one college-age son. 
She told me she is 58, but she does not look a day over 43.
After her husband died, her older sister came over from Thailand to live with her.
The sister can be seen out gardening, most days, wearing her traditional Thai garb, 
and she always waves, enthusiastically, when she sees me. 

The three of us stood out on the front yard, and had a discussion about Thai food,
as I love to eat it, and took a Thai cooking class a few years ago. 
Becky and her sister walked around and showed me all of the wonderful herbs they are growing in their garden, including an abundance of fresh mint, to which they offered me unconditional use. 

"Just walk over and take a clipping, whenever you would like," said the older sister. 

They also invited me to a Thai Festival coming up this month. 

"We could go together," said the oldest,
       "and when you come visit Thailand, you stay with me!"   

I don't know if I will make it there anytime soon (buying a house is expensive),
but I am considering the festival (in between a graduation party and completing a fence),
will definitely take them up on some fresh mint (and have them over for mojitos),
and am considering asking if I can borrow one of their hats -

the gnats have been terrible!

In the meantime, as I have been out doing yardwork,

people have randomly stopped by to say "hello", and welcome me to the neighborhood.
There is a lot of foot traffic in this neighborhood, which is nice. 
People out jogging, people out walking - by themselves, with partners, or with dogs.
LOTS of dogs. 
More for Charlie to bark at. 
I may need to consider taking him back to dog obedience school. 
Otherwise, I will become the "new neighbor with the adorable, yet obnoxious barking dog".
My house sits right next to a public walking path,
and even though there is a six foot privacy fence separating the two,
Charlie's canine hearing works perfectly well. 

Yes. 
I think I am going to like my new neighbors,
and once I get control of Charlie's barking issues, I think they will like me, too!