Those Were The Daze!

Happy New Year!

Below is a tale I wrote in 2007 about a  party I attended sometime in the 80's at the world famous Foxys on Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands. The only way to attend the party was to arrive by boat or parachute. In those days I worked and lived on boats afloat, so I was a frequent visitor to this remote island and friends with Foxy and his family. 

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I remember my first time at Foxy's New year's Eve party, um a few decades ago (mermaids are ageless).  Those were some wild days and the BVI, at that time,  was comfortably disorganized about the whole affair which made for an even more bizarre event. Anything goes, or it did in that day and time. By midnight, the beach was crowded with dinghies tied to palm trees, tied to each other and anchored in shallow water.

Some brave sorts had sailed over on small catamarans, like 10-14 foot Hobies, and dragged them up on shore. A few people hired a plane and sky dived into the event, landing smartly on the beach, just before sunset. Others brought in tents and set up in the yards of local friends and still others were in the coveted hammocks, or lounge chairs or a chair at all. Large rocks were strategically placed up and down the beach, serving as nature's stools.

Tired folks could be found sleeping on the beach, some in a dinghy or on the trampoline of their Hobie Cat, others in the sand, some had spread  a sarong or towel out to sleep. A few drunks were making love in the dark bushes, oblivious to the crowds wandering around them. And all this plus more  was going on all before 10pm.

After midnight, things roared to life again, as nappers found a 2nd wind, and everyone huggy kissy over the New years and so on. Still others passed out on the beach, in the bushes, in a strangers bed or bunk and so on.  Many small bars had already been forced to close due to lack of inventory and the food ran out long before. This was back time, and Jost didn't even have electricity at the time.

Foxys old diesel genset was grinding away,  the band had another generator to keep them powered up. You had to pee in the swamp out back, or for ladies only there was a lone shack down a path,  thrown up with sticks and woven palm fronds, with a door on uncertain hinges made of rope. The roof was open to the sky, and you could go inside (one at a time) and squat over  a wooden bench with a large hole dug below it, outhouse style. The line for this was very long indeed, so most opted for the swamp.  Other ladies used the bush behind the outhouse while the line of women waiting, kept cover for them.

Down the beach, it was palm tree to coconut tree full of people dressed in Tuxedos, expensive evening gowns, sarongs, suits, bikinis,  tattered shirts, faded shorts, yuppie tourist stuff and even a man in a diaper as the New Year Baby. He was 50-ish but had a big round baby face, a massive pot belly and custom made large diaper.  Someone had written in glitter on his bare front and back "New Year's Baby" and he wore a decorated Top hat that wasn't cheap.  A few other assorted costumes were sported, so everyone assumed my costume was a mermaid and never realized I was for real.

I traversed the beach meeting friends, dancing with strangers, groped by the lascivious, pursued by the island boyz and thoroughly enjoying people watching.  I remember some women arriving in expensive evening gowns, stiletto heels, perfectly applied makeup and not-a-hair-out-of-place coiffures. Their jewelry was worth more than  the cost of my first home, I can tell you that. Their escorts were in Tuxedos and they all looked a tad bewildered as they came off the ramshackle wooden dock (was that the year it collapsed from too many people on it at once?)  and they stood there in the sand, looking around, like:

Um, did we take a wrong turn somewhere off Broadway?

Back in those days, there wasn't much publicity about Foxy's except that his New year's Eve party was made world  famous when Time magazine had it listed as the top three places to be worldwide,  on Old Year's Night. So now a whole new well heeled trendy crowd flocked to the islands, to attend this must-be-seen-at world famous party.

I followed the evening gown dressed women around, in the shadows, it was so crowded and they were fun to watch.  I had seen one of them in a movie before, but in those days and times, I hadn't seen a TV in over 10-15 years, but sometimes caught an odd movie, so all of them could have been movie stars, for all I knew.

I think their dresses were probably worth well over 5 figures and the hottest thing off 5th Avenue and one-offs no doubt. Now that is something I rarely get to see here, is the latest high  fashion.

Oh yes, we have lots of high fashion in the islands, but it's a very different kind of  high fashion.  Many folks here make their own clothes or  hire a seamstress or  tailor to make them custom outfits. Then others simply buy the most outrageous colors or styles and make up their own sense of style, not to be seen anywhere else. Then we have cultural dressing with cultures from around the world represented.  Some culturally dress from cultures they aren't from, but because they like the style and this is the islands where different is expected, eccentric the norm and few strive to follow a set clique.

These gorgeous ladies and their stilettos were sinking into the sand, making it nearly impossible to walk.  The lovely long sequined and feathered gowns  were starting to drag on the beach and the winds were whipping their hairdos into hair-undones.  A quick sudden 2 minute downpour, transformed their faces and in less than a half hour, the sand, the winds, the slight shower, and now they barely resembled their original selves when they had arrived all glamorous.

I couldn't believe they weren't willing to take their shoes off and go barefoot.  I could have made money selling flip-plops outta my backpack.  After awhile, realizing that THIS WAS IT, the crowd of Tuxedos and Gowns headed for the bar, traipsing through the sand to fetch drinks. The men's Italian shoes were dusted in sand, the women walked as if severely handicapped as their stilettos sunk with every step.

Finally one lady, having enough of this ridiculousness, slipped her shoes off and passed them to her escort. So this Tuxedoed man is trying to juggle his drink, pull out his wallet to pay and hold his lady's three thousand dollar shoes by the straps with his pinkie finger.  His happy date, now roamed freely, barefoot, the long gown hiding the bare feet and no longer cared she was leaving a trail of sequins down the beach as the hem of her gown began giving way.

Her hair was already blown out of place, the sudden rain had rearranged her makeup and THIS WAS IT.

THE PARTY to be at.

On a beach, on a tiny island, in the middle of nowhere, tragically stuck without a lighted makeup mirror within five miles.

A few drinks later, a thousand yards down the beach, I ran into the same couple again and the man was still carrying her shoes on his pinkie by the straps. From the look of his and her faces they were getting quite smashed.   I tried not to laugh but maybe he saw the smirk on my face of one who is about to burst out laughing for the sheer helluvit.

Someone was flirting with his date and he looked at me, in my casual silk sarong, dripping with every piece of gold jewelry I owned (probably all together  worth about the same as one of his fine Italian shoes). He studied my  swishy mermaid tail, glanced at the  seashells woven in my hair,  while I smiled at him, trying not to laugh as he stood there in this lavish Tuxedo, holding these exquisite stiletto heeled shoes in his hands.

He looked at them, back at me and burst out laughing.  While his date was turned the other way, he drew his arm back pitcher style and flung those stilettos so far and high, that we actually thought we heard a splash as they landed in the swamp out back. Then he carefully made a beehive down the beach and didn't stop for about 500 feet.

This left his date looking around for him and the place was so crowded, it took her  hours to find him again. I ran into him down the beach and he asked me to dance.  Since he wasn't sporting a wedding ring, I had quite a few dances and drinks with him. Meanwhile, he removed the jacket and hung it on a seagrape tree, then the bow tie, and now the ruffled shirt was loosened up, but he kept on his shoes, and top hat, saying they would make a fun souvenir. The sand was grinding into the polish and leather and by morning, those shoes would look well worn as if found and worn for years on end by a street urchin, not by a movie star on New Year's Eve.

I saw an islander go by, study the sea grape tree, then he pulled off his faded T-shirt, grabbed  the tux and tails jacket and bow tie, put them on, then sported it down the beach, dancing side to side excessively, barefoot and complimented by a pair of long tattered faded jeans. I said nothing to my dancing partner. If he could afford to throw his date's shoes into the swamp, without a care, then what the heck if some skinny island boy danced away with his jacket.

Later, when he saw the islander coming back down the beach, dancing away shirtless in his lavish tailed coat and bow tie, having the time of his life, my new friend merely laughed heartily and bought the guy a drink.  Thousands of people came and went up and down the beach, drinking, dancing, walking, flirting, partying.  The harbor was packed to the outer limits with boats and yachts represented from around the world. Bands played all night long. Dinghies seemed to make endless trips back and forth.  Many people had altered their outfits by now, or added to them with silly hats. Inappropriate shoes were abandoned, all over the docks, in the dinghies, in the bushes, in the swamp. People made love in the bushes, and on the beach while others snored loudly nearby them.

I danced to maybe 40-50 tunes with many partners, sweating out the drinks, smiling and laughing, ringing in the New Year.

It was a fun time and I had an absolute blast. Glad I did it when I did it and don't regret it one bit.   I've been back since, but this story, was just memories from my first ever  trip there.

You've just got to dance barefoot, on the sand, by the ocean's edge, under the stars, on a faraway island at least ONCE in your lifetime, even if only  just to savor the memory that life is good.

And if you've made this far in life and never done that, I truly feel so sorry for you.

Life is for the Living and Live it Up you should!

visit Foxys website

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Thanks for stopping by and I hope you enjoy your New Years!

Devil of a Dog

Another beautiful day in paradise though it's so c-c-c-cold at 40 effing degrees. My Caribbean soul just has never warmed up. I am layered in all sorts of clothes. I can hardly move!

Right now I am dealing with a ton of worrisome chaos in my life, maybe I will write about later, maybe not.

In the interim, looking for happy stuff  I am going to show off my goofy puppy who turned 7 years old at Christmas.

Recently I have been able to get back on my bicycle. I am not doing many miles, but I am pedaling and breathing, groaning as my body discovers new ways to hurt that I don't understand.  I just smile and pedal and pray for a miracle. I have to admit though my comfort bicycle which is called a Day 6.

I could ride my bicycle a lot easier if I went alone, but I prefer the company of my canine companion. He rides in this bicycle basket up front.

When we returned to our campsite, he resisted letting me pick him up out of the bike basket. He can turn to dead weight making a 6 pound dog feel like 60 pounds.

In my frustration, I detached his basket and set it on the ground. Since he refused to get out, I grabbed my old camera and tortured him with pictures.

Usually when he sees me grab the camera, he immediately props up his leg to clean his privates. I am not sure why he wants his privates so clean for the picture, but no one wants to look at the goofy pics of him doing that. Grrr...

Today he just sat in his bicycle basket on the ground, refusing to get out, imploring me to take him out for another ride.

How can such a sweet looking innocent dog be such a devil to deal with?

It's one of life's great mysteries.

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Trying to Keep Up LOL

LOL!

I think that means laugh out loud or laughing out loud, or lots of laughing or my favorite look out loony!

I am trying to keep up with technology. It races far ahead of me with everything changing in the blink of an eye.

Luckily I managed to do a good deed. But it wasn't easy. It never is. We found a fancy phone sitting on a picnic table in the public park I was riding my bicycle with a friend who was riding his bike too. My friend stopped and hollered at me "Look, a phone on the picnic table is vibrating." I pedaled back over. We studied the vibrating phone but neither of us had reading glasses with us. Best we could make out after squinting at it a long time was a text message had just come in that read "Call me when you find your phone."

We hung around for awhile staring at the phone, debating what to do. I tried to text back "We found this phone" but I couldn't figure out how to do it. Without reading glasses, neither of us could really tell what we were doing. Finally we took the phone and rode back to my motorhome. With reading glasses, I could now see the phone but whenever I tried to send a text, it wouldn't let me type a word. Just one letter and then it would hang up. Neither of us knew how to use this fancy phone. I kept punching buttons and finally figured out a phone number for the person who had written "Call me when you find your phone."

I called him and the call disconnected as soon as I said "I found a lost phone and.." I tried calling with my phone and through a miracle a man answered and I said I have found a lost phone and I think you were texting on it to call  when the phone was found. He said yes, it was his wife's phone and we will be right over. I thought WOW, how does he know where we are? I said wait, it's not on the picnic table, we were riding bikes and brought it to the campground. What picnic table he asked? The one where we found it. I gave him directions to the campground and a delightful couple showed up ecstatic to get their phone back. Phew!

Even funnier they remembered seeing us ride around the park on our bicycles. Life is goof.

On a side note, he said when he answered my call, his phone said I was calling from Greenville, South Carolina and he almost didn't answer the phone. I said well that is strange, as I thought this was Melbourne, Florida! We had a good laugh over that. Why does my phone say I am in Greenville? I haven't been there since 2014 when I went to a funeral and I don't even think I owned this phone then. How weird!

More strange technology....

Ally Bank has been a good travelers' bank because you can use anybody's bank machine and they reimburse your ATM fees once a month.

Today I went online to find out they've once again redesigned online banking promising "Everything you love about online banking in a smarter simpler design". I should be dancing over the moon. The techno gurus have justified their jobs once again.

But wait.

Dancing over the moon must wait. My balance and transaction history is not available with this new redesign.

This is smarter and simpler?

I want the old design. I am sure it was ancient, like over 3 months old. But it worked. 

I thought I would call them on the phone just for grins. Their message appeared that wait time would be zero minutes. I was ecstatic! I was trying to remember the answers to silly questions, all that tricky stuff they ask you to prove it might be you.

I picked up my flip phone. It's over a year  old, so it'a probably considered an antique by today's techno gurus. About a year ago I switched to Verizon because I heard rumors they were a large reputable company that wouldn't be as crummy as the last company (Virgin Mobile) that kept robbing me on phone cards that didn't work. Buying phone cards seemed like playing a slot machine. You toss in your money and you might win and you might lose. I lost all too often. We got into a huge snafu over cards I bought at Walgreens. The cards read they expired in 5 years.The phone company said I bought expired cards. Walgreens said it was a problem for me to take up with the phone company. Virgin Mobile told me to get a refund from Walgreens. It was a stale mate. Nobody would refund my money nor honor the cards purchased. I wasted a huge amount of time over that and still lost more money. 

When I decided to switch to a monthly plan (no cards) with Verizon, they wouldn't let me use my current phone. I had to buy another dadgum phone and learn how to work that. So I bought the cheapest thing they had, a little flip phone. 

Moving forward to calling the bank today...

Verizon wouldn't work today. Coverage map says I am in their area. I did the loops and hoops where I have to dial a code  *228 send to tell them I have traveled to a new tower then it restarts my phone and that takes time. Not sure why I have to do that. I did that at the first of the month when I arrived here. But I did it again. For good measure. I thought the whole purpose of cell phones was you could travel around and use any of their towers. Apparently I have to notify them I am at a new tower. I have no idea where the dotted line is between that tower and this tower or how to tell when I am in a different tower. The techno gurus keep this top secret. 

I called the bank, verified the number several times while it rang numerous times then a voice came on and said I needed to dial the area code and phone number. I did this about 4 times before I realized I had wasted about an hour of precious time, getting absolutely nothing done. 

I tried to post on blogger which also has gone through numerous rapid changes. It kept crashing when I tried the usual features. In frustration I filled out the FEEDBACK form and sent that off. I kept getting "Can't send feedback" messages  no matter how many times I tried.

I want to keep writing. I want to learn to stay on top of technology but honest to goodness I am bewildered at these "improvements" that seem to eat up my precious time.

Life is goof.

I am trying to keep up and I am falling woefully behind.

Smile, laugh, giggle, the jokes on me. Look Out Loony! LOL!

Oh dear, I have to  copy and paste and save this file somewhere else. I get a message from blogger "An error occurred while trying to save or publish your post. Please Try again. Dismiss"

 Two days later... here it is! The post!

Christmas

Another beautiful day in paradise.

THANK YOU for all the wonderful comments you have taken time to post here. Your comments are delightful providing me miles of smiles.

Thank you!

Every day is such a special gift. I often wonder why I am worthy of waking up alive to enjoy such enchanting delights.

Idiotic pain woke me up, but I tiptoed outside before sunrise to marvel at waking up alive, listening to the birds coupled with the odd but welcomed silence of a campground devoid of human and machine noises apparently still in deep slumber.

So why am I tiptoeing? So the  birds won't notice?

Focus on the positive, forget the negative. All will be fine. Mind over matter.

Harley dog turned 7 years old!
Happy Birthday Harley!

What a study in contrasts he is from full-speed ahead rambunctious puppy attitude to cowering and shaking with me last night because bangs and booms were going off in spite of there being a ban on fireworks at the park, someone very close by was setting off an unsettling ruckus that we couldn't see, just hear. Poor puppy. He shook like a palm frond in a hurricane. I tried to comfort us both.

Life is goof.

Here's hoping everyone is having a wonderful exhilarating holiday!

Thank you for stopping by.

May you be blessed with many good fortunes and loads of laughter.

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Amazon is open 24/7

Thanks for using our links

Ho ho ho!

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Goofy

Wake up and smell the dog.

It's a beautiful day, the sun came up, I woke up alive, the dog actually smells somewhat pleasant.

He rolled in something dreadful recently, decorating himself with canine cologne. While he was smitten with the new smell, it made him very unpopular in the worst way.

My friend helped me bathe him. How and why does it take 2 adults to bathe one 6 pound dog?

Well, this one is phobic about scissors, but he loves bath time as I've tried to always keep it a fun happy event. Bathing him is a good time to do some stealth grooming requiring scissors. I only have two hands. Bathing grooming and scissoring require 4 hands (though 6 would be even better!)

When things are going wrong... I remind myself; Start your journey in life with the tools you have, better tools with come along. 

Leap of faith? Wishful thinking? Ridiculous optimism?

Either way, the dog looks goofy as ever but he sure smells nice.

Thank you for stopping by today.

Mega thanks for helping support this crazy canine with Amazon purchases using our links. 

Happy holidaze!

Alive and Tacking

Tacking the sailboat, it heels over to the other side. The sunshine warms me up and I sweat profusely.

Oh wait, I am not sailing. It's a dizzy fever.

Well, I might as well be tacking the boat. Lately I stumble around like a old salt on shore leave who has found the seaside watering hole.

My ear went on the fritz, giving me a fever and  making me feel seasick in my level non-sailing wheel estate. When I have felt well enough to write, the internet has been down. Internet comes up and this blogger platform goes down.

See saw.

Yee haw.

I dream of  sailing on Sea Rose, my old sailboat in the Caribbean where  I lived and worked  for many happy years.

These are happy years too, just a wee bit more difficult.

Life is goof.

To sum it up, I owe so many thanks to my wonderful readers and friends and angels and supporters and subscribers and souls with good hearts who love my little canine companion (and are still nice to me too.)

My life has been graced with such good fortune to wake up and live another day.

So Happy holidays!

May you have a fine winter solstice.

I will be back soon.

Very soon!

Well fed fish at Casey Jones Camp in Florida

I stopped in there last month, seems like a year ago. 

Not Guilty

Maybe you should shop Amazon for a new cushion...

"Canines began to domesticate people some 14,000 years ago..."

Naughty or Nice?

 Naughty or nice?

Nice?

Naughty?

How to decorate your palm tree for the holidaze.

Christmas comes but once a year.

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Sent With Greeting Card or by Email

In The Dog House

Merry Christmas!

Harley wants a new camper. When I showed him this one and Santa popped open the door to show him around, Harley barked, backed up  and refused to go inside.

Next we looked at this cute camper.

Harley liked the cutie patootie that was selling it but he rejected this one because it didn't have padded carpet.

Sheesh!

Shop Amazon, they can deliver on time!

Brains the Size of a Lima Bean

Their only weakness is a brain the size of a lima bean that limits thinking to eat, bite, fight, mate and start all over.

I laughed out loud when I read that. I met a guy like that once and everyone called him "Gator". 

Now I know why.

I was reading about alligators, eggs, nests and habitats when I came across that quote.

Recently I saw an alligator in the RV park. I had heard rumors and sure enough there he was when I least expected to meet him. 

I was riding my bicycle in the right lane with my doggy in the basket when a car scared me forcing me off the road. The guy driving towards me in the opposite lane was holding up a big smart phone in front of his face with both his hands, steering with his elbows while driving and he abruptly veered over to my side of the road forcing me off the pavement close to the pond's edge and THERE was the rumored alligator. 

Dinging my little bicycle bell did nothing to alert the driver he was in the wrong lane. Sometimes I wish I had a great big truck horn on my bicycle. 

A dummy on a smart phone. Maybe he had  a brain the size of a lima bean too!

My un-smart phone is a flip phone that actually makes phone calls. I can read texts sent to me and if you are lucky, I will reply with a Yes or a No. Usually I just call you back cause it takes me about 5 minutes to figure out how to type one word and then sent it. 

However,  whoever designed my little flip phone must have a brain the size of a lima bean and possibly is named Gator, because while my phone does take pictures they are half the size of a postage stamp.

 So why did they include this feature at all? Just to say it's a camera phone? 

What good is a camera phone if you can't see the picture?

The next time I saw the alligator,  I stopped, got out my flip phone and took a picture. 

Here, I've enlarged the picture for you. 

Isn't that handy? 

Now that I've seen gator several times. I try to pedal fast around that curve which is very close to the pond's edge so I don't fall in with my little doggy who could accidentally become a tasty hors d'oeuvre.

Ho ho ho!

Amazon can still deliver before Christmas. Many packages come in 1-2 days anyhow with Prime membership. 

Funny Doggone Life

Harley keeps asking if  Santa Claws is for real.

These and more funny dog signs are at Amazon with 1 and 2 day shipping.

Seventh Anniversary

Celebrating 7 years of owning and living in this little old motorhome 24/7.

I am not sure whether to curse it or hug it.

Either way I am whooping it up with a raging fever and a bucket nearby instead of cake and balloons.

It seems my wheel estate has shrunk through repeated washings.

Could you live in 150 square feet for 7 years without a car and be sane?

Of course no one has accused me of sanity. Just the opposite!

When I first bought it, I enthusiastically drew out a floorplan. I have now updated it somewhat to include the washing machine which is about 17 by 17 inches, not a big thing, but it lives in a place where it blocks access to some floor area where I have a pile of stuff anyhow like shoes and a teeny chest with sweaters plus a  file box that is bursting with too many papers.

Internet and computer have been on the fritz plus I've been busy with that bucket and fever. Yet I have to keep going out to walk doggy. I even put him on bicycle and rode him to the dog park yesterday to let him run wild while I stood around wondering why I didn't bring that bucket with me.

I am flailing around trying to clean the place up as I have company coming from afar and I hate for them to see me and the place both looking like a train wreck. I should at least clear a seat for them to sit in and the guest loft. I've never seen my rig look in such disarray. Tsk tsk tsk. Or I could take my doggy, bucket, and ice pack back to bed.

Life is awesome with so many choices!

The red doors are not all real doors. The shower door and the rear red door are both accordion type. The shower is full of stuff too,  like dirty laundry and a cooler. I dump it all out, shower, mop it up, then toss it back in again.

I should have drawn in the 14 windows. I could never live without them, yet it means I have minimal storage but a great view of the world around  me including the neighbors.

OK, bed wins, I go lay down and get up later and try to clean up later.

Speaking of tissue...

I am going back to bed with mine. 

I bought this years ago because it hides a roll of toilet paper and converts it to a tissue box.

Amazon still sells this. comes in  assorted colors. 

It will also hold an upright square box of tissue, but I like the roller included that enables a fat roll of toilet paper to hide inside. That way I can pull out as much or as little I need each time.

Achoo! Sniffle sniffle sniffle...

Amazingly, I have dropped mine a few times and it has never broken. 

OK I am seriously going to go lay down with my doggy, bucket, tissue, ice pack and I forget what else. Soon as I get comfy, I will remember. 

Most All Nuts Except Me

“Live everyday as if it were your last because someday you're going to be right.” 
― Muhammad Ali

Orange juice. I will have a little bottle of orange juice. Sounds simple enough. But I couldn't twist the lid off no matter how hard I tried and in-spite of groaning, moaning and threatening to curse it mightily.

My scissors came with little teeth in a circular shape just above the handles. This is for opening cantankerous lids like the one on my orange juice.  But instead of opening the juice, the scissors just came apart and broke. My gosh, I thought I had done this before without breaking the scissors. Those little teeth are made for opening twist-off  bottle caps or cracking nuts.

I wasted a good 10 minutes trying to find the nut and bolt to put my scissors back together. I crawled all over my floor. My gosh they need a good sweep and a serious mopping with vinegar. But that will have to wait.

I am thirsty and I want to repair my scissors.

What I finally found was a broken brad type thing. No way to put my scissors back together. I guess I ruined them. Good grief.

I hate breaking things.

How can I be strong enough to break my scissors yet too weak to open the orange juice bottle?

Back in the fridge went the unopened orange juice.

Sometimes food is packaged so securely even I can't break into it. Recently I bought a southern favorite; pimento cheese spread. I should have made my own.

If I had made my own, which takes about 20-30 minutes, it would have been faster than trying to crack the code for opening the little container of spread and subsequently  the package of saltine crackers.

Live and learn. Sadly I was lacking some of the ingredients to make homemade pimento spread.

For some fool reason I had also bought some kalamata olives. I thought in my foggy brain that pimento cheese spread on a cracker with kalamata olives would be a tasty treat with orange juice. Oh right. Forget the orange juice.

Kalamata olives are tasty and healthy.

They keep a long time in the fridge.

Especially when you can't open them. 

The jar  of olives wouldn't yield to my ministrations either. I tapped it gently on the counter to try to break the seal on the lid.  I tried a rubber grip to open the lid. It would not budge.  I placed another rubber grip on the bottom and then twisted with all my might to try to open the olives.

Nothing.

I tried tapping it again on the counter top. I tapped this way and that way then tried to twist the lid off. It was firmly in place. Worrying I might mar the ancient counter top, I  got out the wooden chopping board. I banged my lid on that. Wood gives. A chopping board is made to look kind of beat up anyhow though mine is fairly good looking since I used to obsess about keeping it oiled up from time to time. Whoopie doodle doo.

Out of frustration I banged the lid harder and harder waiting to hear that little poof of air that signals the lid had broken it's magical seal. I banged that lid so hard it dented! And the dadgum olives still would not open.

Why is our food on lock down? Is it dangerous? Not only is it child-proof, it's adult proof!

I shoved the olives inside the fridge.

I turned my attention to an innocent box of saltine crackers.

What are they packaging crackers in these days? Can't rip them open, can't peel the glue apart at the top seal. Then once the sleeve is half empty, can't split the sleeve to get to the other half of the crackers. But I couldn't even get the crackers to open.

Scissors would have come to the rescue but I broke the scissors on the orange juice.

Meanwhile I returned to fight with the bowl of pimento cheese. I had pried off a bit of plastic, but the lid just wouldn't pop open. I went all around it with a magnifying glass looking for instructions or a secret lock or a special code or a hidden message.

In my frustration I settled on a banana. A banana is so easy to open even a monkey can do it. Right?

I must not be a monkey.

This banana peel was so tough it didn't want to snap open either. After five minutes of feeling ridiculously stupid because I couldn't get my banana open,  I had to finally cut the top off with a knife. What do they do to bananas to make them so rubbery on the outside?

Now that my banana was finally peeled and fully exposed, I noticed it was heavily bruised all over like it had lost in the wresting ring against Muhammad Ali.

 “Impossible is just a big word thrown around by small men who find it easier to live in the world they've been given than to explore the power they have to change it. Impossible is not a fact. It's an opinion. Impossible is not a declaration. It's a dare. Impossible is potential. Impossible is temporary. Impossible is nothing.” 
Muhammad Ali

The Greatest: My Own Story

Muhammad Ali

Feeling triumphant, I carved off the bruises then ate the remainder, about a third of unblemished banana.

Muhammad was right, some things are not impossible...

Back to the pimento cheese. I was trying to leverage it open with a knife, to no avail. I trotted outside, found my tool box in the basement of my wheel estate then came back and tried a hammer. I was going to use the claw end to pry the lid off. I lost my grip. The container flew across the motorhome, bouncing across the floor several times scaring the dog who scampered off.

He had been sitting on the settee watching me curiously mess about with the food for the past hour.

On the four or fifth bounce the  lid popped off and the container magically flipped upside down with the contents sticking to the floor. Carefully I lifted the bowl. Now I am staring at an empty container in my hand and a blob of pimento cheese stuck to my floor.

This might be the point when that loud frustrating scream was heard around the RV park yesterday. Yep. That was me.

I so wish I had not become behind in my housekeeping. My floor was not clean. But that didn't stop the dog who came out of hiding, dashing over to see if he could be of help cleaning up the cheesy mess.

He apparently loves pimento cheese spread. But so much cheese and such a small dog do not mix well. I had to hastily scoop up the mess by hand and stuff it back in the container. I tried to scoop out the dirt and toss it away but I had cheese all over my hands. I couldn't open the cabinet to the little garbage can without making an even bigger mess.

Poor doggy looked bewildered that I wasn't going to let him eat his fill of cheese. The rest of the pimento cheese seemed more or less OK, but by now I had seriously lost complete  interest in it. I will label it  "dog snack" and stick it back in the fridge. I guess he can have a little spoonful now and then to satisfy his cheese craving. He doesn't seem to care that it landed on the not so clean floor.

Now he is excitedly following me around to see what else I might fling in the floor for him to dine on.

But I am trying to turn on the sink water without touching the handle because both my hands have sticky pimento cheese on them.

How does this happen?

An hour ago I was just going to make myself a little snack and so far I have had a third of a banana. Finally I just pushed the faucet on, let the pimiento cheese stick to the handle. I washed my hands, washed the faucet.

By now I felt a little faint.

Grapes. I will eat the grapes. Seems easy enough. I grabbed the new bag out of the fridge. They were sealed up with a zip lock slider. I unzipped it. Nothing opened. I re-zipped it, still they didn't open. Oh it reads "tear here". I tried tearing. It didn't tear. I tried ripping. It didn't rip. I tried a knife and it cut  a sliver off the baggy crooked, but not through the rest of the steel type plastic. Ziplock is the correct word with the emphasis on lock.

I stuffed the grapes back in the refrigerator.

I am going back to bed. I am too weak to be of any use now.

At this rate I will be skin and bones by Christmas. I can't open my food.

I’ve wrestled with alligators,
I’ve tussled with a whale.
I done handcuffed lightning
And throw thunder in jail.
You know I’m bad.
Just last week, I murdered a rock,
Injured a stone, Hospitalized a brick.
I’m so mean, I make medicine sick.
~~~Muhammad Ali (1942-2016)

Rest in peace Muhammad Ali, you wrote a great book too but I noticed you didn't say a thing about opening food!

My cheap broken scissors came with a Laugh-Time guarantee but these scissors by Chef Remi sold at  Amazon come with a LIFETIME GUARANTEE.

Award Winning Best Multi-Purpose Utility Scissors

So tough they even crack nuts (most all nuts... except me!)

It Was NOT Me!

We had a nerve-shattering storm yesterday. Beautiful sunshine, gentle breezes then a big dark cloud rolled up out of nowhere. Suddenly a monsoon!

I was out walking Harley when he dragged me over to see one of his favorite humans, a repeat guest in the campground we had met last year,  who was outside washing his trailer. We were yacking away about the pain and gain of tortuous exercise and the merits of different bicycle racks while Harley ran through his repertoire of circus tricks.

As the sprinkles began, I said "Oops! See ya!" and we speed walked back to my camp with abrupt high winds and water flying everywhere. My feet were slipping and sliding, sloshing around my flip flops making it a bit difficult to gain traction. We weren't that far away, maybe a thousand yards to go.

With hilarious horror I realized my cotton shirt was soaking wet, sticking to my body turning the thin cloth transparent.

Oh my gosh, this is not the nude beach, but I was rapidly looking like I belonged there rather than here.

If a big rock had magically appeared, I would have crawled right under it and hid forever.

I snatched up Harley and plastered him to my chest. He curled up into a tiny wet fur ball giving me the coverage of a postage stamp.

We made the final lap in what seemed like 10 minutes of pure agony crammed into 30 seconds fumbling  around with the key trying to hold the shivering puppy and  pry the door open against the winds while my long hair was blowing horizontally wrapping around my face and eyes. Poor little dog looked like a drowned rat. There wasn't time to dry him off inside.

Like an octopus  I raced around my wheel estate trying to close eight open windows all at once. Then I dashed back outside to move the camp chairs under cover of my tattered awning (see last July when it nearly shredded)  but everything outside was  already soaking wet. The aggressive winds were shoving rain sideways pelting me and everything in its way. The awning was flapping wildly fighting with the tethers I had put out to hold it down when I set it up. There was no way for me to reign it in, so I dove back inside where Harley and I huddled together wrapped in a great big towel as thunder rumbled around us. My  cruising cottage shook from side to side as thick rains made the windows opaque.

That was yesterday just before sunset.

So this morning I was sitting outside with my coffee, minding my own business, trying to clear the fog from my brain when  a couple I have never met wandered over from another campsite and asked;

"Did you see that topless woman with a hairy chest race by in the storm yesterday? It was HILARIOUS!"

I was midways through swallowing my coffee, I was sure it would spew out of my mouth and splatter us all but with a  massive gulp I managed to get it all down.

Putting on my best most innocent poker face I replied "Um, no, but whatever you were drinking at happy hour... I sure want some!"

Too much air in my haste to get that coffee down, and my sentence was punctuated at the very end with a very  loud long deep burp.

COULD MY LIFE BE ANY MORE EMBARRASSING?

Frantically I pointed at the little pond nearby and yelled "Did you hear that alligator? LOOK! There he is!" then I jumped inside my RV as the couple turned pale white and ran for their life.



And now Dear Miss Mermaid continues her series of helpful shopping tips for the holidays; 

Shopping for the person who has everything.

Except... this T-shirt!

This is the back of the T-shirt, you will have to visit Amazon to see the front of the T-shirt, it made me blush just looking at it. 

There are others... with a very warped sense of humor.

And whoever that crazy woman was out in the rain yesterday,  IT WAS NOT ME!

Giggle Farts

I woke up at dark thirty, tiptoeing around my wheel estate. Why? So the dog can sleep? My brain works in mysterious ways.

It's going to be another beautiful day in paradise. Before daybreak I was sitting outside in the breezy camp staring off into oblivion waiting for the sun to come up.

I crave sunshiny natural daylight. As the winter days slowly shrink I don't want to miss a moment of it. Today I will have 10 hours and 25 minutes of daylight. I don't want to waste one single second of the glorious daylight. From soaking up the vast benefits of sunshine to incorporating it into my daily life of hopeful healing.

Vitamin D
Sunblock stops the sun's ultra violet rays from creating Vitamin D in the body, which is essential for numerous healthy body functions. It's important to slowly build up tolerance to the sun if one is not used to it so that sensitive skin can get used to the idea that sunshine and Vitamin D is essential and healthy.

For me, watching the sun come up, is my own crazy affirmation that I am alive!

Another day to greet with wonder and joy.

And now Dear Miss Mermaid gives you shopping tips for the holidays;

A whimsical bag of unicorn farts! (Cleverly disguised as cotton candy.)

Life is made for giggling.  (And farting!)

Angels keep me down to earth. 
Help Keep Dear Miss Mermaid Writing, Giggling and Farting...
Thank you! 

Pot Luck on a Day 6 Bicycle

I was invited to a pot luck but told to bring a chair, a covered dish, a drink, a plate and a place setting. Oh and I was supposed to bring a weenie to roast on the fire, but I didn't have a hot dog (just a cool puppy!)

Most folks were loading up their cars to drive over, a few walked over because they were camped nearby.

I was scratching my head trying to figure out how to carry all this over without making multiple trips plus the chair just seemed so heavy.

 I have no idea how that works. My muscles play trick or treat with me. One day it's a treat;  5 pounds feels like 5 pounds and other days it's a trick; 5 pounds feels like 50.

My trusty red "Day 6" bicycle came to the rescue!

Big pot of Pesto Pasta with Toasted Pine Nuts rode in the front basket of my bicycle. The rear basket held the place setting plus a bungee cord to strap down my folded chair to the rear rack.

I was able to stay past dark since I now have front and rear lights on the bicycle.

What fun!

Shame I didn't take a picture of the bike loaded down. My bad.

But just for grins, here's a picture anyhow. I often refer to my ride as "the cargo carrier".





Get your elf a little something for Christmas at Amazon. 

Top Secret

Shhh...

I am in the twilight zone.

My phone, internet, electric, sewer and some water all seem to be working. Amazing!

I give thanks for such abundance. Thanks!

It seems impossible in this day and age to have all utilities working. Notice I said "some water".  Well some is better than none.

If I can drop everything else I am doing and devote hours and hours, I am sure I can convert "some water" to regular water service.

Nothing comes easy.

Not even water.

Happy holidaze!

Shopping for the person who has everything?

You could buy them "Hurricanes and Hangovers" to read or you could give that special person who has everything...

The toilet night light


Life is goof!

Thank you for stopping by today.

Arrive Alive In Bits In Pieces

Harley backs our wheel estate into our camp site. 

We arrived alive at our winter camping destination.
Finally.

Not too much fell off the RV along the way.
We're like Hansel and Gretel, just follow the trail of RV parts to find out where we went!

Only one hit and run, but nobody was injured.

I was at a gas station that had a left lane with 2 pumps on the left and a right lane with 2 pumps to the right.
I was pumping gas parked on the left. My mini motorhome takes up 2 car lenghts. To my right pumping gas was  a car in front with a pickup truck  in back of him.
When the pickup truck finished first, he cudda-shudda backed out and left the gas station without making a mess or trying to destroy anything.
Instead he  shot out of his lane forward at a severe angle trying to squeeze between my rig and the other car when I heard a loud BANG. My outside mirror was knocked so hard I thought it would bust right off. Thank goodness he left the front fender intact.
Harley barked up unprintable doggy curses.
The pickup truck never stopped, just sped out of there in a big bodacious hurry.

Life is goof.


Maybe I need a bright orange RV so idiots at gas stations can SEE me.

Now it's time to park a spell, patch up this mess and see the dawn of a new error...

We hope you will use this link for your 
Shopping at Amazon
Thank you kindly!

Kamp King Koaches

This Kamp King Koach came with an optional popup roof and deck.

I see 4 kids and 4 adults but where is the dog and cat?

"All Kamp King Koaches carry a lifetime warranty in writing to the original owner" 

Is that the life of the koach or lifetime of the original owner?

Here we have the Utopian Motor Home "built on the truck of your choice".

Life is goof.

Not Again

Oh my gosh, we've driven off the page again!

If we don't know where we are going, then how will we know when we get there?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Many people, angels and higher powers have made my little life feel magnanimously wonderful. 

THANK YOU. 

THANK YOU. 

THANK YOU. 

I wish I could learn to be more grateful for having today; another splendiferous day on planet earth.

Note to self: Today is a miracle, never ever forget that.

(And it all else fails, waste it wisely!)

Stop, smile and smell the dog or dog the smell, I forget which is west but either way his breath takes my breath away.

Life is goof.

Moving Along

On the road again.

Time to shuffle, shake, rock and roll.

No idea if I will have internet or not the next few days. My phone and internet providers are different companies, but they both randomly fail even when their coverage map says they will work.

What those phone and internet companies need is a crystal ball.

I visited a funny campground.

The trees were too low to get my rig down their interior roads. 

So I took a dog walk.

I would have loved to stay there and utilize their rockers. 

I can understand they are tree huggers but I guess I have to wait a few years until their trees branches are tall enough for small motorhomes to enter and exit. 

It looked like the existing motorhomes in the camp had not left in years either.

Life is goof. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amazon Shoppers

who use this link

Helps make this old rig and her motorhome

rock and roll with a doggy in tow

THANK YOU!

Right about Wrong

It's been brought to my attention  by quite a few people and computer programs that I am wrong wrong wrong about EVERYTHING. I did it wrong wrong wrong and they are here to inform me and  make darn sure I know that I am wrong wrong wrong and if they can make it any worse, they are here to help make my wrongs even wronger.

So what's wrong with being wrong all the time?

If I'm not having a problem with being wrong all the time, why are they bringing this to my attention over and over? If they were put on this planet to make my wrongs worse, they have succeeded!

Now move along. I got the memo! You are right to point out I am wrong all the time.

I get it.

I know I am wrong about absolutely everything.

Except one.

I know for a fact I am right about ONE thing for sure.

I make a good excuse for a bad example!

Tooting my horn...

or Christmas Shopping Made Easy...

Buy your weird friends

"Hurricanes and Hangovers"

by Dear Miss Mermaid

Available at Amazon