On a recent trip to Prague I found myself seated with five Russian people at an evening of Czech Folk Dancing. While I spoke no Russian my table companions used their minimal English and we did okay. They were pleasant and we laughed as we struggled with the language barrier.
In our continuing efforts to communicate I pulled out my cell phone and shared my Prague pictures with them. After this they shared their photos with me. Soon the wine and beer began to flow as we clanged glasses, sang songs and danced with the folk-dance troop. It was magical evening I’m sure none of us will ever forget.
It’s been a difficult couple of years living in America with all that has gone on. Perhaps our government officials need to go out for a beer and sing a few songs together. I’ve been told a well-known Governor does this with his legislators and it works. Maybe we can move this to the federal level.
In a recent condo association meeting Sam, our manager, brought up some disconcerting news. One of our renters had hired an unlicensed worker to remove branches which blocked her view. Had the unlicensed worker injured himself our condo association would be at fault with our fees going through the roof. Also, the trees didn’t even belong to us, they belonged to the golf course. All these actions were done discreetly on a weekend.
While I understand the concerns, I could see this coming. I am privy to many complaints as I use the condo clubhouse Wi-Fi near where Sam’s office is and heard this tale many times. At one point the owner from the downstairs condo appeared and it got a little loud. Listening to the squabble I giggled softly to myself grateful I was not part of the fray.
Early on in my move to the condo I had gotten in trouble. Though I had Sam’s permission I planted flowers in the back of condo rather than placing them in pots. The fracas continued to unfurl and now planting flowers in the back of the buildings is a given.
As the meeting continued it was decided to get legal advice and write the condo owner a firm letter informing him of his tenant’s actions. Also, further contact had to be made with the golf course management since they owned the tree.
Today I walked by the tree but didn’t notice anything different. I felt happy to be in an end unit with minimal golf course view and only two neighbors with dogs who have now calmed, at least for the moment.
I have discovered oils. This discovery came quite by accident when I attended the wrong library class. As I sat in the far corner of the room I knew there would be no easy escape so I stayed. I chalked it up to another senior adventure.
The teacher washed each of our feet and began to apply oils to them. This was similar to Holy Thursday mass where the priest washes the parishioner’s feet so I went along. As the teacher explained how oils reset our body cells I listened. When she said the s word, that being sleep, I was sold. After years of insomnia I try anything related to the s word.
Several of us went to her nearby studio to purchase oils after class. I bought oils and signed up all she had to offer regarding sleep. I have found the stuff works and each night one hour before sleep I place lavender oil under my nose and on the soles of my feet and I sleep. Oils are now my best friend.
Isn’t it odd how being at the wrong place can often be the right place? Or were we at the wrong place?
I watched Steven Colbert the other night. The show is like a circus and the man must lose five pounds a show with all the energy he expends. He is funny and really makes you think. I have seen him before but not often since it is late and I don’t know how to DVR or have television you pay for so lack CBS.
He is someone I was not familiar with until five years ago. We had a psychiatric patient who came to town from the Midwest who wanted to work for him but had a “break” in the Port Authority and ended up with us. When I asked my fellow nurses who Steven was I got groans. I had no idea who this man was. I could hear them thinking the stupid white bitch from Upstate New York strikes again..
Charlie Rose was on this show and funny. It was good to see him laugh as he is always so serious. I usually send my blogs to people I write about but think I’ll keep this as secret as I don’t want the notoriety. He’d probably ask me on the show.
I am used to tourists so when I moved to St. Augustine it was no big deal. In New York City I used to wave to the tourists on buses as they passed me during my lunch hour on Broadway and 113th. Yes, that was me and you probably didn’t notice as you were gawking at the Cathedral next door.
Today, I’m traveling behind a particularly slow car which is immaculately clean and new. While we no longer have tourist license plates I know this must be a tourist. I can see them pointing at the lighthouse and the driver leaning over to get a peek. As his car swerves I gently brake and let them enjoy the view.
Though I am late for an appointment I sit back and keep the 25-mph speed knowing I could go much faster and be on time, but that’s okay. This a lesson in patience as when I’m in their town l know they’ll be polite to me. Welcome to St. Augustine.
I was always told to never be barefoot. Our feet needed to be shielded in shoes. Under no circumstances were they ever allowed to be free. Sad this was happening in America.
Whenever I was barefoot I was punished and if I had friends who were barefoot I could no longer associate with them. They were a detriment to society as their parents were not giving them adequate supervision. I was sad as my feet were destined to a life of constraint.
Later in life as I began to have balance problems I read how walking barefoot strengthens these valuable assets and improves balance. As I experimented with this I found it to be true and my balance improved. I now wonder if those in walkers had the same upbringing.
My feet are now free. God Bless America!
Years ago, I was stopped by a police officer for speeding. It was late at night on a back road and I had had an eye exam early in the day. The police officer insisted I was on drugs as my eyes were still dilated, or so he said. He threatened to arrest me on drug charges several times, made me walk the line, count backwards and I sat on the roof of my car as he inspected it.
Upon completing the car search he found a church on wheels filled with medals, rosaries, and religious statutes. No drugs. I always believe in protection from above and was grateful to escape with only a heavy fine and many years of increased insurance premiums.
Fast forward to a bar conversation with a former New York City police officer. He explained police officers have productivity standards for tickets and collars. Ticket are tickets and collars, well, you can imagine. Productivity standards can fall on the beginning or end of the month. It was an enlightening conversation.
Recently, an acquaintance told me her son in law was caught speeding on a Sunday night through a vacant road construction site. He is facing a felony for his actions and must obtain a lawyer to settle this affair.
Lesson learned: Always use cruise control and do whatever the officer says when you are stopped.
Question posed: What will happen with the advent of computerized cars?
Last month after many attempts at securing the right date, that being the third Saturday of the month from 11 till 3, I toured the Tolomato Cemetery in St. Augustine. This cemetery, the oldest in Florida, has graves of former citizens, mayors, bishops and servicemen from the 18th century till 1884.
My tour guide, the association president, was well versed in St. Augustine history and her presentation fascinating. When I gave my donation they asked if I would be interested in receiving their email or becoming a member. I eagerly said yes.
When the email arrived it noted they were doing a cemetery survey and wanted me to participate. In completing the survey young tourists assisted me in reading the inscriptions to ensure survey accuracy. Their young eyes scrutinized the ornate blessings the gravestones held for future life.
Working at this event was fascinating. My what will Heaven hold!
In my mad quest for the dictionary to include in the Church Back Pack Collection I went to Dollar General. While they didn’t have the dictionary, they had a collection of swimsuits for 70% off. When you are 61 you don’t care or believe you are “Boss” or “Flawless” as written over the chest of the suit, you just want a bargain so I bought four.
I was so happy with this purchase that I decided to check the sales in the other two Dollar Generals. We have three in our area. At the second one I was even more fortunate as the manager didn’t care if the summer apparel sizes of tops and bottoms were switched but I bought both anyway. For that price who wouldn’t. I’ll lose more weight and take in the big one with a pin.
At the third Dollar General the pricing was even better than the other two stores. However, shift change occurred and by the time I went to the cashier the new cashier had different sale price guidelines. Now, I only have two favorite Dollar General’s in my area instead of three.
For those females over 50 and post-menopausal many of us know this friend I have titled this blog about. She is a sometime horror and there are not enough relaxation techniques, herbal remedies, cups of chamomile tea to end this friend’s visit. I consider her a bad house guest. She doesn’t know when to leave and can visit for years.
I’m told Martha Stewart is an insomniac. When I hear that I realize I am in good company. If she can start an empire maybe I can as well. I have already done my time working for the prison system so I have that part of her life covered. I just have work on the cooking part.
Now where is all this leading? I’ve been awake most of the night and have found something productive to do with my friend. I’m writing to you.