Christmas in October

Thought for the day:  Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened.  [Dr. Seuss]

Okay, ready to follow me to our last Florida outing?

How about a trip to Fort Christmas? Not only is this a totally neat place to visit, it is an extremely rare commodity in Florida... it's FREE. No entrance charge at all! (What a concept.) This sign may be difficult to read, but what it tells you is the fort was originally built in the early 1800's during the wars with the Seminole Indians, who understandably didn't take too kindly to the notion of being forcibly removed from their native lands to be relocated west of the Mississippi. As an interesting aside, another sign explained a little bit about the war paint worn by the Seminoles. Red paint signified blood; green under the eyes was intended to improve night vision; and yellow was considered the color of death. A warrior with yellow paint on his face meant he had lived his life, and was prepared to fight to the finish.

Okay, here's where we enter the tiny fort/ museum.

Inside the cooking/ eating area.

Also inside the cooking area. Check out the old irons on top of the ironing board. No electrical sockets in those days.

Spinning and sewing implements from days gone by.

The wooden wagon wheel and tinder kegs were inside of the old storehouse.

Unfortunately, most of the buildings in the park closed for the day before we had a chance to explore them. There was a LOT more to see, so maybe we'll go back again next year, but a lot earlier in the day.

BUT, there was something ELSE there that made the kids happy. (Nope, no balloons this time...)

                                                      A kick butt PLAYGROUND!

As always, we had a wonderful time. Always great to see our kids and grandkids.

Always fun to capture the world with a camera. (And yes, that's an Atlanta Falcons shirt I'm wearing... brave, huh?)

Don't go, Grandpop!

Alas, the kids were a little sad to see us go...












But like Arnold Schwartzeneggar said, We'll...  be bock!

Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

False Start Fridays: Week Two

Thought for the day:  I'm all for keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of fools. Let's start with typewriters.  [Solomon Short]

Okay, so some of the stuff we've written may be a little cringe-worthy when we look back at it, and maybe some of us are fools who should be denied access to typewriters and computers.

Tough. I say, we've gotta keep on keeping on.

I survived last week's posting, so let's (gulp) do it again. This week's piece was written circa 1990, or so... maybe a little sooner. (Why didn't I think to write a date on these things?)




****

    Welcome home, honey. I know... technically, it's been more than twenty years since you got back from Vietnam, but I think we both know the man I sent away has only recently gotten here. I'm not sure who that stranger was who's been walking around in your skin all these years, but it wasn't you.
    Lord, we were young back then, weren't we? So terribly idealistic and full of dreams. A part of me raged at the unfairness of it all when you were snatched away from me so soon after we got married. But there was no question in our minds. Not really. We knew that once chosen, you would go. You would fulfill your patriotic duty, just as your father and so many others in your family had done before you.
    But ideals and patriotism and notions of what war would be like did nothing to prepare you for its reality. What twenty-one year old can face what you had to face and emerge unscathed? You were only in country for two days when you inherited the machine gun. You joked in a letter home about that's what you got for being the biggest of the survivors from that awful firefight. Well, you never said it was awful. But from that moment on, your letters home were different. You were different.
    It broke my heart when you wrote home that you didn't know what you were doing there and didn't think your being there made any difference. It frightened me. I was so afraid that loss of conviction would cost you your life. But thank God, it was a fleeting feeling, and by the next letter, your sense of purpose was strong again.
    When your Purple Heart was delivered to me without any kind of explanation from the Army about the extent of your injuries, or even if you were dead or alive, I thought my world was coming to an end. But exactly one year after you left, you returned to me. I'll never forget the way your father drove to the airport to pick you up. He had your '61 Chevy just a-flying! Remember the little American flag he'd attached to the antenna? That thing was laid flat back! Oh, God, how good it was to see you--- to touch you--- to hold you. I couldn't get enough of you. I even watched you while you slept.
    Oh, but honey, you were so different than when you'd left. There was a far-away look of emptiness in your eyes, and it seemed like you looked right through people. Like you looked right through me. I can tell you now that there were times I was afraid of you. It was like you had ice in your soul, and could freeze the blood of anyone who got in your way, all with a single look. And the anger, the rage. Gone was the idealistic class clown with a heart of gold, and in his place was an angry cynic lashing out at the world.
    I can't tell you how happy I am that we've finally put the past to rest. So again, I say, from the bottom of my heart--- welcome home, honey. Welcome home.

*****

Ready to post one of your oldie but goodies next week? Pop over to Suze's blog and let her know. Subliminal Coffee (the thinking person's cafe)

                           Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Better Than a Three-Ring Circus

Thought for the day:  Life is a ticket to the greatest show on earth.  [Martin H. Fischer]

No, we didn't go to a circus when we were in Florida, but we did go to what has to be one of the greatest car shows on earth. Wait, wait! Don't run away. This wasn't just another car show...



What's this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare? [W.H. Davies]

Believe me, the show at Mirror Lake provided LOTS of things worthy of standing and and staring. [Sincere thanks to the loverly Mr. Charleston for writing about this cool show on his blog last year, and to the equally loverly Pixel Peeper for telling me it's a show well worth attending.]

First off, the location for this show is absolutely gorgeous... a picturesque lake with walking paths, green spaces and gardens all around it, and a pretty little town nearby. And the CARS!!! Just about any kind of car you can imagine... and some you can't imagine. They were all around the perimeter of the lake, as well as along the streets. If it had just been Smarticus and me there, I'm sure we would have seen every single one of them, but we had to consider the kids and grandkids, too, so we only saw about a quarter of them. There was also a bunch of beautiful wooden boats there. You know, like the old Chris Crafts? Lots of maintenance, but truly beautiful vessels. Throw in arts and crafts booths, a farmer's market, food booths, and swans, and what can I say? There was something there for everyone. Even balloons, which is what our granddaughters wanted more than any-thing. Natch, grandma got one for each of them, and natch, I tied them to the girls' wrists. The girls decided they were big girls and didn't need to have them tied onto their wrists. And natch, they wailed like banshees as they watched said balloons sail off into the ether. Oh well, they enjoyed 'em while they had 'em.

                                                    Okay, ready for some pics?

Bizarre-looking, huh? (Oh, and check out that clear Chamber of Commerce sunny day, wouldja?)

Yep, it looks just as weird from the front.

Now, that's more like it.

And THAT...

Yeah, this car show was so much fun, it was ...downright  scary.

But you don't just wanta see cars, right?

How's about a boat?

Here's a classic Chris Craft. She's a beauty, isn't she?

The other beauty in the shot is granddaughter Persephone, who was already begging for a balloon, like fifteen minutes after we'd arrived. (Well, she did see some other kid with one ...)

A bunch of the wooden boats did slow laps around the lake. What a sight! A couple boaters were more into speed, so they lapped the other boats, but for the most part, it was a stately parade of sorts.

I TOLD you there were swans there. Here's granddaughter Persephone again, taking a rest in front of this one. Yep, she's smiling now... she has her balloon.

There were real swans there, too. Black ones. Aren't they beautiful? I must admit, I spent a good bit of time standing and staring at them. At one point, a foolish egret tried to invade their space. Wow, I had no idea swans could be so feisty! Alas, the fight was all over with before I even got my trusty camera out.

So, there ya have it. The annual Mirror Lake Classic. Not just a car show... a three-ring circus of fun. I can hardly wait to go back!

The healthiest response to life is joy. [Deepak Chopra]

                          Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

WAIT! Don't go yet! Two more things: First, I changed my mind about doing two Friday posts for the rest of the month. I'm thrilled so many people read and commented on last week's False Start, but alas, the other "regular" post didn't get much love. So, time to cut my losses. One post is obviously enough.

Talking about cutting my losses, is anybody interested in reading my long-suffering WIP? I've arrived at a fork in the road, and it's time to decide whether to keep pushing this thing for publication, (maybe with Outskirts Press?) or whether it's time to simply stuff it into the drawer under the old socks and underwear and move on to something new. I have edited and rewritten this book so many times, it's approaching idiocy. To this point, all my readers (except the agents!) have been cheerleaders, but what I really need is constructive criticism. I need people who are willing to crush my dreams  stomp on my ego spit on my so-called writing ability provide an honest evaluation. Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade isn't a horror story, fantasy, or fast-moving thriller. It's more of a cozy book you can wrap around yourself and get all comfortable with. Might make you laugh a time or two; might even make you cry. Anyhow, if you're interested, you can use that nifty "email me" button in the sidebar to let me know. If you have a kindle, that'd be perfect. I could ship it right to ya.

Okay, NOW you can go. Thanks. Until next time, yadda yadda yadda.