Christmas at Beagle Manor

This is a picture taken of Ripley by our son (other son, the two legged variety) John B, of his little brother Ripley. J.B. got a new camera for Christmas, and a tri-pod and a camera case. He also got a new "hoodie" sweatshirt so he'll keep warm in this unusually cool season in Florida. He also got a book about "Weird Florida" stories. The camera was something he had expressed wanting to have, as his older camera had only about half the mega-pixels and capabilities of this newer one. J.B. had accompanied me to Orlando a few weeks ago, and was impressed by the Sony camera I had, so now we're an all Sony camera family. I'd offer that old pun, "Sony of my owny" but I'm considering giving up cheap puns for New Year's.

Ripley is pictured on his favorite rug in the living room. This is the rug that came from Badcock & More (yes, that's the name - insert your own crude humor here). We purchased a new living room furnishing with two chairs, a three person sofa, that rug and two vases in blue & brown. The rest of the living room came down from Missouri, except for the Tommy Bahama style entertainment center from the former island condo. Ripley is Sir Skids A Lot when it comes to chasing the tennis ball on the wood floors, ergo this rug is his island of tranquility.

Christmas in Florida is different, to say the least. I suppose native Floridians don't miss the snow, but instead of a white Christmas, we had to settle for a Windy Christmas. As I write this on a Sunday morning, the wind is whipping the palm fronds, and the live oaks trees are casting their acorns onto car roofs, driveways and streets. Ripley has been out with me to take his walk, and experience his first encounter (to our knowledge) with a giant Blue Heron. The bird was standing tall (he was at least 48" tall) next to some reeds near the pond, and watching Ripley as he made a half-hearted stalk. Ripley, who apparently is no fool when it comes to birds bigger than beagles, stopped a good 15 feet away and barked the bird into flight. You had to wonder what the dog was thinking, but then you realized he wasn't thinking......he's a beagle.

The Bark-O-Lounger King

It's been just over a week, but Ripley the Beagle has taken over. He's at least taken over my one room in the house where I've condensed as much of my prior "offices" into a space engineered to hold memories and current files. One of the few pieces I was able to keep from my much larger "man cave" in Missouri was this recliner, which back in the day was known by many as a Barcalounger (a brand name which, like Xerox, became synonymous with the product). There's a small inset picture of that original product in this blog entry.

Ripley has taken over my office. When I moved full time to Florida, I brought with me a desk, a credenza, and a matching bookcase. I also brought a corduroy couch which was a full sized hide-a-bed, and various other pieces of furniture. It became very clear, even before the truck came to pick up stuff in Missouri, that in the new space there would not be room for all of this stuff. That desk had been with me for years, and was a really nice (heavy) piece of furniture. In the planning of the new "office" which began life as a breakfast room, but was redesigned by my wife and our contractor, I showed Jason (the contractor) a picture of the desk - which he said he might be able to use in his expanding business. So, while I now have only the original credenza and matching bookcase, at least the desk found a good home in nearby Sarasota. I gave Jason first right of refusal to re-assemble the suite once they carted my old bones off to the retirement center.

So now I have the credenza, bookcase, television stand (and TV), computer, printer, recliner, and couch/hide-a-bed. Ripley has been exploring every nook and cranny of his new home, and looking for places to hide his chew toys. So far, he's managed to find at least three places in my office, one in the cushions of the couch. I cannot sit down without Ripley jumping into my lap, and wanting a belly rub. He is very spoiled, and wants to help me do everything, including write this blog.

It was a small office to start with, and now this small dog has decided it's his to share with me. Funny how, no matter how small a space may be, there is always room to fill it up with love. And Ripley has moved in, and been crowned King of the Bark-O-Lounger.

Get Your Own Box

Ripley the Beagle boy wants very desperately to sample the Cheez-It crackers, but his daddy is under strict orders from the resident photographer (she who must be obeyed) to "not give him people food". Ripley loves his daddy, and after six full days in his new "forever" home, he has very quickly bonded with me, and leaps into my lap and the tail never stops wagging.

He is very well behaved, and whoever lost him must have taught him to behave on a leash, as he will sit quietly around other dogs if you shorten the lead and tell him to stay. He is not a vocal beagle, unlike our dear Millie (now in beagle heaven), and only barks when we come home and let him out of his crate. He goes into the crate every night with little urging (a cookie thrown in first, and a gentle shove of his beagle butt to close the door). Once inside, he settles down and does not whine or complain. Now, this is not to say he spends a lot of time in the crate, as in the week we've been privileged to have him with us, he's only been alone in the house for one hour today during church. My wife gave me implicit instructions on how to secure him - apparently wives think husbands are brain dead around adorable beagles - and he went into the crate at 9:50, and came out at 10:40, to much beagle howling as he was SO happy to see me. I ditched the sermon and sneaked out while the congregation was singing the second verse of a three verse hymn. We live all of two minutes from church, till the new church is finished anyway.

Ripley apparently spent some time in cages earlier in his life, before being picked up by Hillsborough County, and ultimately turned over to Tampa Bay Beagle Rescue. We know that because of a mystery solved by TBBR volunteer Madeleine who explained a curious behavior. Ripley, like other dogs who are caged a lot, is not only an "optimum pooper" (like the pet food commercial), but a "unique pooper" at least to our experience after five prior beagles who were pretty much conventional when it came to relieving themselves. Ripley backs up to a tree, placing front paws firmly on the ground, pushing his rear legs higher on the trunk, then proceeds to "push off" with his bomb load. He's also done this on a bed of closely planted flowers, a cable TV box, a broad leafed tropical plant, and numerous low bushes. At first, we suspected his prior owner didn't believe in picking up after his dogs, so trained them to avoid grassy lawns and find clever hiding places. Madeleine solved it with a simple answer - "crated and caged dogs don't want to poop where they're contained, so they 'expel' their leavings OUTSIDE the cage".

Well, Ripley has given me a new phrase to replace "go piss up a rope". But look at his picture sitting in the back of the Corvette as we drove the 60 miles from his original foster home to our place. He went right in back, did not complain, and has for all trips thereafter taken the "crew chief" position behind the pilot and co-pilot. One week with my boy Ripley, and joy has replaced the grief of losing our girl Millie. Some people just have to have a dog. Like the tee-shirt said "he's not my pet, I'm his human".

Call Sign Change......Jericho now Ripley

God Bless the Tampa Bay Beagle Rescue - they've helped fill a void after my wonderful Millie went to join her four preceding sister beagles in heaven. My wife and I went up to the Tampa area several weeks ago to meet the group, and we filled out paperwork to foster and adopt. We watched the web site, and saw a boy beagle named Jericho. We fell in love over the Internet with this little guy, and were fortunate enough to take over his fostering, with intent to adopt.

Beagles who go through their program, which serves many, many counties out of the Tampa area, are given a new leash (pun intended) on life, and the guy we loved came from the Hillsborough County pound. He did not have a microchip, and therefore the family who lost or abandoned this wonderful dog could not be notified. We've chipped all of our dogs, and beagles are known to roam, so it's only prudent. They also provide shots, and in the case of our little guy, they check for heart worms.Our boy tested positive, so he still has a heart worm treatment ahead of him. He's taking pills, but sometime in January he'll go to the vet (provided by the TBBR people) for an overnight stay, and then will have to be kept calm for fifteen days while the shots take effect and hopefully purge any remaining worms.

Anyway, he's going to be fine, we're certain. He was living with a lovely person an hour north of us, and after tearful good-byes (he grows on you, very quickly), we got into the Corvette and brought him home. He sat in the back, and was a very good traveler. This is probably only the first of many stories about Ripley, believe it or not.

Cars all tell a story

OK, this is a hypothetical question of course, but which of these cars, seen at Universal Studios, would you like to drive? That is, assuming you could get the one out of the tree? Knowing me, I think you'd guess my answer, but I suspect you'd be wrong.

I'd take the Elwood and Joliet Jake "blues mobile", a retired cop car, and gleefully park it all over Longboat Key. It would drive my neighbors (and the cops) crazy. Cars with this much character are routinely stopped along Gulf of Mexico Drive, for real or suspected infractions of the law. Longboat Key, where I live, is an island which is perhaps all of ten miles long (although the addresses don't seem to run any higher than the 7900 block), and at it's wide spot, maybe three quarters to seven-eighths wide. The town was incorporated in 1955, and severely "down-zoned" in the mid 1980's. Original zoning allowed for up to 100,000 people, much like the high rise nature of Miami or Clearwater, but now you'd be hard pressed to find 20,000 people in residence. That would be "full up", and since many of the condos and homes are second, even third, residences, we just don't see that much traffic. After 7:30 PM, when many of the residents have gone to bed after watching the news, you could shoot a cannon down GMD, and not hit anything except perhaps a very confused sea turtle. The speed limit is 45, although a few locals believe 30 is more appropriate to their age, and diminished reaction times. A Corvette never gets a chance to exhibit it's talents, and the dearth of passing zones eliminates showing off that 430 horses.

Now, the Harry Potter car (in the tree) never was in the running, and the Jurassic Park SUV might be a good second choice...........considering the number of old dinosaurs living here, but that old black & white would be "the" dream car to own.
And that air raid siren speaker on the roof would be great, just to ease up behind one of the local slowpokes and suggest "either lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way". An air horn tied to that speaker might also facilitate frightening some of those old farts enough to give up driving completely.

Florida State Road 789 runs the length of the island, and in most months you don't have to worry about bumper to bumper traffic. If it is bad at all, it's bad at the north end when the bridge is up. Oh yes, you can't get onto the island except from other islands, north and south of us. That's why we really don't have a crime problem - only a couple of ways in, and twice as many police as there are exits to cover. We have a very good police force, but they can get bored. We have neighbors who think any car older than five years must be driven by a criminal, or worse yet, a day laborer. That's why the Blues Brother's car would be so much fun to have, just to piss off those who think of themselves as better than the rest. It's great to live here, but I haven't let it go to my head (and hope I never do).

Dazed and Confused

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. This one is worth a thousand laughs.

Enter the tourist with camera and prop guitar, and his amused son who thought this picture was so great that he actually paid good money for it. I guess the tips at Outback Steakhouse were better the prior several days. I was saving it to give to my wife (who generally never reads this blog, unless I insist) as a gag gift at Christmas, but she is off at Sunday school, and I have time to work without getting caught.

This of course was from my trip to Universal Studios, where we ate lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe. Like Chickenman, they're everywhere, they're everywhere, but this was the first time I was met at the door by a photographer who pressed an electric guitar into my hands and suggested I strike a pose. Enter "Johnny D. Goode", standing by his very amused son. My son actually can play the guitar, like ringing a bell, but I am musically deprived. When I was VERY young, I took piano lessons. I took them, they didn't take however. I know the scale (well two actually, if you're preparing a fish)and it goes, C.D.E.F.G.A.B.C. and I can find "middle C" on a piano. My recital piece was called "Puppy Dogs", and I played it, but in the wrong key. So, I do have an ear for music, but after my year of living dangerously as an Air Force DJ in SE Asia, I also probably damaged that ear by playing rock and roll too loud in my headset. I also developed some talent for carrying the harp - my mother was (still is at 91) a harpist, and before my younger brother took over, I was the harp slave, who carried the damn things over hill and vale. That ruined me as a musician - the idea of carrying a piano was even far more odious.

So, back to the story - here we were, me with the guitar, the camera, the too-light jacket for that cold and blustery day, and the hat. The guy said smile, but I apparently wasn't paying attention. The look was worth one thousand words - sorry you had to read the thousand anyway.

Hogwarts Castle by Express Train

Last week, my son and I took a magical trip to visit Harry Potter, son of Colonel Sherman T. Potter, in Orlando. It was a cold and blustery day, but with sufficient crowds of wizard seekers, we found human windbreaks galore. Harry was a no-show, perhaps off to Korea to visit his dad, but we did see many of the local inhabitants garbed in their Olde English clothing. All seemed a bit overweight, until we realized these were native Floridians wearing ski parkas under their cloaks and gowns. It was that cold, I swear.

Universal studios for me was a first time visit, and the Studios side of the park featured a number of familiar street landscapes, and several interactive rides. We also had an opportunity to watch two guys doing a great takeoff on the Blues Brothers, complete with driving off in the old police car from the movie. we got to take the Men In Black ride, and participate in a disaster movie.

Leaving the studio side, you passed once again through the City Walk and headed to the Island of Adventure. And, of course the feature this year was the town of Hogsmeade (which I thought at first was a ham flavored beer), the many shops (all offering tempting trinkets to purchase), and of course the rides. If so inclined (inclined, get it?) you could ride the "Flight of the Hippogriff", a roller coaster pulled by a giant bird. J.B. and I passed on that one, and we also declined to eat at the Hogs Head Pub, or the Three Broomsticks restaurant. I did take a number of pictures, and should I actually read the books, I might gain a better perspective of that funny little car, or why you'd name a store "Dervish and Banges".

If you are in the Orlando area, and anxious to drop a couple of hundred easily, I would suggest that you visit Universal's Island of Adventure. It is a true Marvel, where Spiderman and you can ride the Incredible Hulk Coaster, among other rides. I personally chose not to sacrifice my expensive Hard Rock lunch over the side of any coaster, and on a day that spray from the water rides was freezing in mid-air, I stayed high and dry, although not necessarily warm.

Very much like "Downtown Disney", there are some nice places to eat and browse outside the gates of the two parks ("City Walk"), but then you go through the turnstiles where they scan your finger (or thumb) print and the bar code on your ticket, which upon visiting the second park (one is Universal Studios, the other Islands of Adventure) you simply present your chosen digit and they allow you to pass back and forth all day long. Of course, when I gave them the finger, it failed to scan before finally working. I guess my prints are now FIRMLY in "the system". I'm sure our federal government has hacked this database as well. Maybe I should have bought one of those magic wands in Hogsmeade, so I could erase my presence, although those bright flash memory erasers sold at MIB might do the trick as well.

The literature in the tourist brochure tells you "be courageous, be outrageous, be extraordinary" - shucks, I mastered that crap in eighth grade. What's next?

Turkey and the fixins, poodle not included

At our condo in Florida, we've developed a Thanksgiving tradition, which we share with wonderful friends from Philadelphia - one year at our place, the next year at theirs. And there's always a dog around, but this year we invited Sophie as our beloved Millie never made it to the new house.

Millie in 2008 was the "host dog" and we had dined at the Evergreen condo, inviting two additional neighbors who were not all that "up" on the Thanksgiving tradition. Tony was a Brit, and his wife Hanna was an Austrian, before marrying and moving to Massachusetts. Now, we suppose they still celebrate Thanksgiving in Massachusetts, but apparently not everybody makes a big deal out of eating too much turkey, followed by falling asleep on the couch. Following that 2008 dinner, all six of us went next door (I had a key) to inspect the work done for my "roof-mate". They were getting ready to sell their place, and had contractors in to fix it up. They left me with a key. We left our plates on the table, including the desert dishes where June had made a magnificent peanut butter pie.

Millie, the beagle, loved peanut butter. Either I failed to push my chair back, or perhaps it was Dick (June's husband), but Millie took advantage and when we returned the top of the table was disheveled, and all of the food left there was GONE. It was Doggone Gone. I think we might have lost one glass, but fortunately no injury to the beagle, and the tile floor was easily cleaned. Millie was sitting in the corner, looking guilty while licking her chops. Ah....life with a beagle.

In 2009, we went to Dick and June's place, and it was a wonderful meal, but no canine adventures. For 2010, the venue would shift to our new home, but we were all sad that Millie had been taken by cancer and would not be around to entertain us.

This year, Sophie came with Dick & June, since it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without a dog present. Sophie is an apricot poodle, and VERY spoiled. Sophie however likes me, and very few others than her mom and dad (June and Dick). We also invited my son, who recently had moved to Florida, and Robert DeSero Jr., the facilities manager at our old condo association. That rounded out the preferred seating of six, and it also decimated the turkey. We were a little worried that having run out of turkey, we'd have to prepare poodle as a fallback, but Sophie was spared at the last minute when she reminded us that French fries go with burgers, not turkey.

Kitchen Magician, Part Deux

It's been about twenty days without a blog entry, so I must be slowing down, but before I closed out this topic I wanted to share a couple more pictures of the kitchen project, now that it's done. The side of the kitchen with the small peninsula is where the original kitchen had a "pass through" into a breakfast area. We closed up that wall, and developed a really nice space to be used as an office. For two of us, that peninsula and two counter height stools is enough, for coffee in the morning, and even an occasional dinner when we're eating light.

The project wasn't just the kitchen, as the whole house benefited from an upgrade. That same granite in the kitchen reappeared throughout the house, as the window sills, the seats in both showers, and the fireplace hearth all came from that same quarry. I even have a piece left over in the garage, not sure what I'll do with it, other than perhaps get a hernia moving it around.

Kitchens have become the new living spaces in the American home, and when you come to our home you'll find it warm and inviting. Come on down to Florida...the weather's great and the beach is only a quarter mile away.

My Wife, the Kitchen Magician

Start with the lower left picture, with my wife and our contractor looking over the kitchen when we bought it.
Move clockwise to the "in progress" picture, then feast your eyes on the finished product.

The kitchen was less than inspiring when we purchased the home, and the tile floor had to go. New wood flooring throughout cured that. The popcorn ceiling had to go. A very talented guy skip troweled the entire house in 12 hours, and only charged $1,600 to do it - a fantastic price for an even more fantastic result. The kitchen had an adjoining breakfast room. Breakfast rooms are so 80's, but the house was built in 1988, so "out with the old, in with the new". Gone was the "pass-through" and replaced with a wall, where additional cabinets could be placed, and the breakfast room became "the office". The old dishwasher....gone. The old microwave.....gone. The old garbage disposal.....gone. Granite replaced the counter-top, and a new sink and hardware replaced what had been there since 1988.

When I said "sure, go ahead and make this place yours" my wife took my word and my wallet to the test. The new cabinets feature pull out drawers, and after two months we still have empty space for storage. The new refrigerator has exactly what she wanted, and what mama wants, mama gets.

The whole place turned out just perfect

My New Pool - Part 2

The pool "project" moved into a new phase, following the archeological dig that went halfway to China in search of logs the original developer placed as "fill". The developer cleared the land, but rather than haul off palm logs, live oaks, and other debris, he simply buried it, and apparently buried it DEEP. At which point, the pool contractor took the easy way out and simply added some dirt fill. Ultimately, the fill degraded, the pool cracked, and we had to start over 20 years later.

In part 1 of this story, I showed how heavy equipment was brought into break up the original pool (which had settled and cracked, ergo needed to be replaced), and prepare the ground for a new "dig". In the pictures posted above, you'll see the final steps of removing the last of the logs and debris, and then the repacking of the ground with fresh fill (without the "chunks") which will not be settled and compacted in preparation for the ultimate excavation. My last trip out the back door with the camera resulted in finding the uneven hole gone, and replaced with a smooth rectangle of fill......ready for phase 3, construction of our NEW pool.

When we bought the place, we knew there was a pool project, but had no idea how long it would take, and how much it would cost. Fortunately, we had $4,000 placed in escrow by the seller - which probably would have cut it before they discovered the need to go down fifteen feet to find "bottom" of all the debris. Oh well, sometimes the elevator, sometimes the shaft, and in this case the mine went much deeper than planned. When it's finished, we'll see how much gold came out of the old wallet.

Life's a Beach, wherever you can find one

I had fun driving that little Rhino, and at the end of the ride we took some time to enjoy the sun and surf. A little bit of salsa and chips, a margarita, and then hit the hammock. All in all, a great day - now where did I put that Jenny Craig brochure, cause I'm sure I'll have to pay for this one way or another.

Los Banditos de la Rhino

This past week, we wrapped up the move to the new house, and decided to reward ourselves with a short hop over to Costa Maya, Mexico for a rumble in the jungle. We rented Rhino all terrain vehicles, and set out for a jungle and beach adventure.

A Rhino is not (despite the immediate prior post about politics) a Republican In Name Only, but a 650 cc Yamaha 4 wheel heavy duty golf cart. I swear, the body said Custom Cart and while it had a shorter bed than the Custom Cart my buddy Bob drives at our condo complex, it had the same basic set up - one speed forward, one reverse, and a 4x4 and a 4x2 (two wheel drive) setup. On the road, it felt like we were making perhaps 35 mph easy, maybe more. Part of the run was on gravel roads, several running along the Caribbean sea shore. We were part of a tour, of course, and when you're on a tour, all sorts of folks get involved, including the usual poor drivers. Now, I'm naturally competitive and don't enjoy people failing to put 100% into their efforts, so I just had to pass where I could. Not sure how the guides felt about it, but my passenger was pretty upset when I'd move up the line by passing somebody who just didn't know how to drive (my opinion, of course). My passenger, who generally hates to see her picture published anywhere, was gracious enough to snap the shot of the two of us with brain bucket, bandanna, and glasses. She's the one making sure she doesn't eat anybody's dust by pulling the scarf up to "burkha level" - I'm exposing my nose, so folks would recognize me.

Anyway, we had a blast - almost as much fun as last year at Cozumel with the dune buggy ride through mud holes in the jungle. Not a lot of mud, but really not that much dust either this time. The track we followed however had lots of stumps and rocks and vegetation slapping the Rhino at the front and sides. That golf cart was a hardy beast, and mastered it all. I've got to get me one of those.........but I think I'll take the governor off and add a Nitros bottle. Then when my wife says "this isn't your Corvette", I can say "no, it's better!".

Political Rally & Barbeque

It was billed as "Red, White & Barbeque" and held in a large aircraft hanger at Sarasota International Airport. It was to be the last Sarasota event for the U.S. Senate candidate, the candidate for Governor, and several other "down ticket" offices. I had yet to hear any of these candidates speak, with the exception of the female Attorney General candidate. So often, one has to plunk down big bucks for such an opportunity to get up close, but this day I did not.

Best of all, this event was FREE, and they threw in good food and a band too. Ya gotta love that! So, I arrived in time to park close enough, and managed to eat my fill before the buses started rolling in. Campaign buses are amazing these days, with the fancy graphics and all of the technology inside. Candidates arrive fresh, make their now well rehearsed speech, press the flesh until their handlers spirit them away, and they're off. At the event today, the candidate for Governor arrived first, introduced his family (Republicans are very family oriented) and his mother, then stepped away to shake hands. Enter the bus for the Senate candidate, who also brought his family along (and of course his mother - his father had died during the campaign). His speech was dynamic, but he's clearly a rising star in the party. During the speech, another bus rolled in, this time with the Agriculture Commission and the Chief Financial Officer candidate. The polls say these guys are well ahead of their Democrat competition.

The race for Governor is uncertain as to who wins. The assumed candidate, the present Attorney General and past Congressman Bill McCullom was defeated by a conservative business man in the primary - McCullom figured it was "his turn" and didn't take his competitor seriously. This is a year in Florida, as it is across the nation, where "expected winners" find themselves on the outside looking in. The conventional wisdom says the Democrat probably will win in a close race. We'll all know in 72 hours.

The race for the Senate is also interesting, with the current Republican candidate pictured above expected to win - after chasing the current Republican Governor out of the party and into a battle with the Democrat to see who could capture enough votes on the left and center to win. Watch this Marco Rubio guy - he's going places, and I expect him to start as the next Senator from Florida.

Oh, the Attorney General candidate - well, it's allegedly a closer race than the others "down the ticket" but I expect Pam Bondi to prevail. She is a really great person and has been one of the talking heads on CNN and Fox News when discussing the immigration issues we see across this land. I voted for her in the primary, after meeting her at a small soiree and being impressed by her intellect (OK, I admit, she's also a babe).

So, it was a great party - a good band, great speeches to fire up the troops, and two kinds of ice tea. I took my tea sweet, as is the Southern tradition. Republicans now serve tea at all functions, we're just a veritable tea party and are riding the wave to recapture the Republic in 2010.

Window Blind Man's Bluff

You'll recall the pictures of the bird outside my window, shot from the inside. The other morning, when nothing much was moving, I took my camera and walked across Harbourside drive and took a picture of my office window (on the right) and my wife's kitchen windows (on the left). I also took a shot from Winding Oaks, looking past the driveway and to the left would be my other windows. This house has LOTS of windows.

Next week, we'll see a bit less from the inside, when we install blinds in the living room and master bedroom. That's probably a good thing - the sunlight would eventually bleach out furniture from that one set of windows. And we need blinds in the bedroom, if only to blot out that pesky streetlight that shines directly into my wife's eyes at night. Mind you, on MY side of the bed, I am not bothered at all because my side has a wall with dresser against it, so no problem. Of course I offered to switch sides of the bed.........as you can imagine that went nowhere after 39 years of marriage. I'm convinced women are creatures of habit and will not change for love nor money. Men are like tomcats - they'll sleep wherever they fall down. Might be from having a career traveling and spending nights in strange beds too often.

So, my wife's solution so far has been to take wrapping paper and tape it to the windows. Now, that's tacky but it did turn out temporarily effective. It also brought about a search for a blind person to come and measure the openings for a more elegant and permanent solution. We got a phone call the other day, and the blinds are now ready to be installed. That's a good thing, after all. When I write yet another check, I'll know I'm that much closer to having completed the new house.

I wasn't all that impressed with the blind guy, but his dog was pretty damn good with the tape measure.

My New Pool - Part 1

When we bought our new house, we were promised a pool, which very conveniently was located behind our home but maintained by the homeowners association. However, the pool was closed because it had a crack in its bottom. Now, nobody wants a crack in their bottom (although perhaps plumbers may view this comment differently), so the pool had to be replaced. We knew this going into the purchase contract, and negotiated an escrow amount from the sellers to help pay for the expected cost. The "guesstimate" was from three to five thousand per resident, which multiplied by 50 some homeowners, would mean "no more than $250,000" in cost was expected.

The picture on the left was taken AFTER the old pool had been removed, and fresh fill had been brought in for compacting. After compacting, they'd dig a fresh hole for where the new pool would go. The water showing is the adjacent pond. The picture on the right shows what happened when they dug down a little further...., and then discovered even more debris when the operator thought he had hit bottom at 7 feet, only to discover a second selection of trees and bushes at 15 feet. Hopefully the game plan does not include digging a hole to China. The picture on the right is self explanatory - yucky!

They had suspected that the pool had been built on fill, but not organic debris, and in the big dig now going on, found it to be not one, but several layers of organic debris. Fortunately, no dinosaur bones, but plenty of native palms and other trees, which the original developer had apparently cut down when building the homes and from fill from the adjoining pond. There was also discovered the old pool's gas line, which interestingly had not been shut down and the meter removed. Can you say "Kaboom!"? Fortunately, after many phone calls, the gas line (for the pool heater) was shut down and the meter removed.

Meanwhile, the Homeowners Association has asked our residents if they want to add a four person hot tub/spa to the project, for ONLY an additional $35,000 bucks. I have voted no, since I regard these as just giant Petri dishes in search of infectious germs. This pool project was expected to be finished by Christmas, but maybe I should have asked "which year?". So, this blog entry is labeled Part 1 for a reason, there WILL be a part 2, probably a part 3 and hopefully a conclusion. Fortunately, we still own a condo at Cedars Tennis Resort, with a Jr. Olympic sized pool ideal for lap swimming. And of course, there's always the beach and the Gulf of Mexico. Ain't Florida grand?

Window on the World

Sometimes you go to the shot, and sometimes the shot comes to you. The other day, my wife was in the kitchen and glanced out the window and there it was, a great white heron.

I quickly grabbed my camera and took several pictures of this magnificent bird, who had alighted upon the hedge that screens our home from the road outside. The bird seemed oblivious to our presence on the other side of the windows, where we could see it from both the kitchen and my new "man cave" which also faced north.

In my prior "window on the world" at the tennis resort condo, I had converted the second bedroom into an office, where I faced a courtyard and had an oblique view of the Inter-coastal Waterway and Sarasota Bay. No water views in the new place, but our new neighborhood earns its name, Winding Oaks. This area, built in 1988, was carved out of an area where many live oak trees (that's the name of the species, as opposed to dead oaks) were incorporated into the landscaping plan surrounding the homes. Live oaks are native to this area, as are great white herons. I am now native to this area, and living on the corner where my windows face north and west gives me one great view of what's coming and who's going. I've achieved nirvana if you rank neighborhood busybody as a goal.

My boy and his dog

For most of her doggy days, Sassy the Labrador/chow mix was a land locked canine. She came into my son's life in north St. Louis County, where she was part of a menagerie of three dogs, one adult cat, two kittens, and two ferrets. We won't count water bugs in the basement of this house. There was also a wife, with two children, so the house was pretty full, and this poor dog was most likely in competition for space, food, and probably air.

After fourteen months of a marriage nobody thought would last, except for the groom of course, she packed up her kids, and one dog, and moved in with husband number four. J.B. was left holding the bag, and it was full of kittens. There was also a bag full of ferrets. He found somebody who wanted the ferrets - so that bag was never dropped off a bridge. He took the kittens back to the adoption agency where they had come from, nominally to play with the daughter's adult cat. That "left behind" cat also found a new home. My son found a home for his American Eskimo dog, knowing he couldn't keep the house on one income, and rentals never allow more than one dog.

Sassy, the landlocked Labrador, would move with her master from St. Louis to Indianapolis, where she would live with his grandmother and hide up in his room during the day. He ultimately moved in with his step-cousin, and Sassy got a doggie friend named Arnie to spend her day alongside - plus a fenced yard in which to frolic. But it wasn't until the cousin was facing marriage that J.B. knew this housing arrangement couldn't last. So, he packed up the Jeep and moved again - this time to Florida. He'll soon be in an apartment of his own, living perhaps ten miles from our place, and ten miles (if that) from his new restaurant. But before he moved, he had use of our island condo, with the Sarasota Bay just 50 yards away.

Sassy the Labrador discovered her "inner Lab" and she loves to run on the tidal flat behind the condos and chase the seabirds. Labrador retrievers love water - and the world loves a lover. Sassy is no longer sharing space with a menagerie, she's got the world as her oyster, and she likes Florida as much as her master and his parents.

Ice Cream Sunday

A week ago, on a Sunday afternoon, my friend Bob and I went in search of a car show. Bob had read about a two day show, assuming it was a Saturday/Sunday event, and I allowed as how I could meet him after church on Sunday and we'd drive up to the top of Anna Maria Island to see the show. Only one problem - the show was part of a town celebration which went on Friday night, and all day Saturday.

We were a day late, and ultimately several dollars short. Bob, who is known affectionately as Bobby to many where he works, is the Maintenance Supervisor at Cedars East Condo Association. This is his fifth year, and I can honestly say he loves his job. He came to Florida with less than $200 in his pocket, traveling from New York City. He grew up in Queens, and has great stories of living in New York, where he did every job imaginable, from mover (carrying stuff up four or five flights of stairs) to diamond cutter. Bob has more girl friends than I can count, and yet has successfully avoided marriage in 30 years of dating - assuming he started at age 16. Knowing Bob, probably his youth was far more exciting than my own, if half the stories are true. He is the only 46 year old teenager I know, but he's great to hang with, if only for the stories and his take on life.

Bob now lives in Bradenton, and my son (who is 33 and recently moved to Sarasota/Bradenton) will soon move into the same apartment complex as Bob. Bob will help him move, which is to say Bob will do most of the heavy lifting based on experience. J.B. however brings a dimension to Bob's life - that of computer savvy with experience selling stuff on line. Bob has experience with falling into free furniture whenever one of the 92 owners updates his condo and needs somebody to haul off the old stuff. Bob hauls it to another garage (very few live at Cedars, and somebody is always wanting to get rid of old stuff that is still very serviceable) where he then proceeds to sell it. Now he will add Internet sales to his repertoire, thanks to my son.

So, back to the story - Bob had never really spent any time at all on Anna Maria, and from a prior blog entry you'll recall my writing about lunch at the City Pier, followed by ice cream at Two Scoops. I bought lunch, Bob paid for dessert, and we killed a Sunday afternoon, topped with a sundae. Life on an island is always an adventure, and its best shared with friends. C'mon down, the waters fine!

Slow but Steady

In the last several weeks, our new home has slowly been sorting itself out, from a mix of new furniture, old furniture, and many boxes coming off the truck a fortnight ago. I have captured a shot on behalf of one of our remodeling team, who was so pleased with his work that he wanted to show his wife the final product. I owe most of this to his work as inspired by my wife's ideas. She envisioned it, he made it happen.

This picture shows the living area, with dining off to the left, where a window overlooks plantings separating the north side of the property from the road. The new fireplace is at the far end. While there was a fireplace there, the old tile (brown) was just one of five different tile colors in the house. We replaced it with a stone that tied into the granite hearth. The wood floor replaced a shiny white tile (2nd color) and runs throughout the living spaces. We kept tile in the bathrooms, but it is no longer pink (which HAD to go!). There were two additional colors of tile, one in the showers, another in the laundry room. All old tile is gone, and the color palette is now reduced and coordinated.

The picture also reveals a new ceiling fan, and a new chandelier - with the fan being only one of five in the house. Our tastes have become more contemporary as we've aged, and while this house is "less Florida" it still reflects the Florida lifestyle with lots of light coming through those sliding glass doors which open onto a screened lanai. While it can be hot and sticky some months, we enjoy the countervailing cool months coming up, when you can open up the house to nature and the occasional guest (who looks a lot like that insurance spokes-gecko) who sneak onto the lanai from time to time. Oh well, it's Florida.

I'll post other shots as soon as we finish up a room, or in the case of the new kitchen, I will take some nice shots to share.

Beach View High Rise - New Price

Prices continued to fall on the Florida Sun Coast, but with interest rates at a historic low, deals were getting done and a Realtor was once again able to have a double latte at the Beach Cafe on Anna Maria Island. After grabbing a lunch with my buddy Bob, I showed him a place where he could take his girlfriend to watch the sun set, and get an "all you can eat Pancake" breakfast if he got her up early the next morning. Bob, who works on Longboat, had never really taken the time to explore our northern neighbor island, Anna Maria. Anna Maria is one island, but with three distinct towns. And each of those towns has a distinct personality.


At the top of the island is the City of Anna Maria - they have their own Mayor, but police service is contracted out to the Manatee County Sheriff. The entire island is served by a West Manatee Fire District. Anna Maria, the city, is very residential and arguably the "high end" real estate on the island.

The middle of the island is Holmes Beach. Holmes Beach has the Manatee County Library branch and a quite impressive City Hall in it's main business district. It is solidly middle class and sports lots of visitor facilities along the shoreline, and decent marina space along the Inter-coastal Waterway which separates the island from mainland Manatee County. Holmes Beach also has three gas stations, and all are ten cents a gallon below the solitary station on Longboat Key.

The south end of the island is Bradenton Beach. Like Holmes Beach, it has its own Mayor and Police Chief (and minimal police forces). Bradenton Beach's business district is along Bridge Street, where there is no longer a bridge. The bridge is somewhat north of Bridge Street, where Cortez Avenue comes from the mainland. The fishing village of Cortez is at the land side of the bridge, and they have a great Fishing Festival every year, plus a small fishing fleet embarks from there each morning. The far south end of Bradenton Beach is Coquina State Park, where the holidays find crowded beaches and the occasional Hispanic gang fight and shooting gallery. Don't worry - nobody dies, as the gangs haven't learned to shoot straight. The presence of this large park attracting the weekend swimmers, sun bathers and gang bangers give this town a distinctly working class tourist appeal.

So, in order to leave Lucky Longboat (called that because we've not had a hurricane impact us for some eighty years), we must either go north to the Cortez Bridge on Anna Maria, or go south to reach the mainland via City Island, St. Armand's Circle on Lido Key, then Bird Key, and finally the high bridge into Sarasota. Isolation has its disadvantages living on Longboat "behind the gates", but our new home here is lovely and on one blessed level - no more stairs to climb. However, if I wanted to climb stairs, that property pictured above would be my first choice. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to look like a buff 20 something lifeguard. In my dreams, and only in my dreams.

Drove my Chevy to the Levee

OK, that's not a levee at all, but the north end of Anna Maria Island, where the City Pier extends 678 feet, and the wharf at the end juts another 58 feet into Tampa Bay. But that is my Chevy, and on a Sunday afternoon a great place to park and walk on this historic structure, built in 1911 and 1912. The pier was created to serve ships coming down from St. Petersburg and Tampa, and it has withstood hurricanes and lesser storms in 1918, 1935, 1974 and 1988, always being restored to its rustic look.

On this Sunday, I was taking time away from reorganizing all my stuff at the new house, and a buddy of mine thought there was a car show on Pine Street in the town of Anna Maria. There was, but it was Friday night and Saturday - nonetheless we did the road trip all the way up Anna Maria from Longboat and took in the sights.

We grabbed a bite to eat at the restaurant, watched any number of folks catching Amberjack off the wharf, and ended up grabbing an ice cream cone across the street at the Two Scoops shop. There's a poem posted on a sign near the beginning of the pier - it reads "Beneath the Roof of this City Pier is the Place to Sit with Shrimp and Beer, While Lightening in the Distance Plays and Thunder Rumbles Across the Bays". That about says it all............well, except explaining that one surreptitious shot of the hot blonde with fishing pole. Use your imagination there.