Thursday, January 22, 2015


THAT'S what being away from my sister for five years does to me. 


It seems like yesterday when Joe dragged me to our new lifestyle.   The fingernail gouges I left in the asphalt in Indiana are still there.

But I've adjusted.  Kinda.  Sorta.  I just wouldn't give me a hand grenade and put me on a busload of nuns.  What's black and white and red read all over.  

Yeah.  I got depressed today.

I had an appointment tomorrow with the Doktor to get my prescriptions refilled and found out she is OUT OF THE COUNTRY for a month.  Hindu festivals and all that, and she has no one covering for her.  I asked them what I'm supposed to do if/when I start having drug withdrawals.  Her office told me to go to the ER.

Wouldn't THAT look good on my record.  Especially when I renew my gun permit:  "Presented herself to the ER due to drug withdrawal symptoms".  

Where the hell is Shaniqua and Tyrone when you need them?  Not in OUR alley.

But on a brighter note, the swelling in my face has lessened.  My fake tooth almost feels like my own, and Tylenol is NOT the miracle pain killer that Floridian doktors say it is.

So, after steam cleaning the floors today, doing laundry and making chili, I decided to lock myself in my sewing room and make something useful - like a pin cushion.

Especially after I spilled all my straight pins last night and ended up with one stuck in my upper thigh:  don't ask.




Monday, January 19, 2015


Two years ago I was happily eating fried oysters when the sound of  a shotgun went off inside my head.  I looked around to see if anyone else heard it.  Nope.  But I had bitten down on a piece of oyster shell and cracked a back tooth.

Being brave, I decided I didn't need to see a dentist.  Being a coward, I decided I didn't need to see a dentist.

Two years later, I finally dragged myself into the dental chair and strapped myself in with bungee cords to keep from leaping out the window.  

The dentist said that FIRST she will try a crown.  

SECOND, if my tooth disintegrates during the royal crowning, she'll call in a root canal doctor, then retry the crown.  

"You mean that YOU don't do root canals?"  

"Not on a tooth that bad."  *untying bungee cord*

After all that, if my tooth commits Hari Kari, I get to see an oral surgeon to have it dug out. 

"You mean YOU don't pull teeth?"   Silly question.  

She pulls teeth, but she doesn't remove bits and pieces of said tooth after it has exploded into my sinus cavity and rendered me impotent.

So the cost STARTS at $1,200 and can go up from there, with the outcome being a missing tooth.

Sounds about right.  

And it all starts tomorrow (Tuesday), and ends *date to be inserted here*

So, to keep my mind off it (is that possible?) I made a carry bag for my sister to take to Cleveland Clinic when she gets more tests for the scleroderma that is slowly taking her away from me.

I love how I got it to square up and the little handle inserted with absolutely no cussing on my part.


Room on the innards to sneak in some Patron at Cleveland Clinic.

I'm going to make a smaller one for myself to carry all the Percocets the dentist better give me.

Thursday, January 15, 2015


The local  "man who fixes your computer when he gets around to it" told me that I've been getting so many viruses because I had TWO anti-virus programs installed.  I had the free AVG which did a fantastic job.  But when they said it was time to upgrade to the one they sell, I told AVG to take a hike and added my $90 KASPERSKY program (wouldn't you?) 

During the few days that I had two programs running at the same time, there was a fight going on between them.  During a technical TKO, a virus sneaked in and took my computer down for the count.

I now have $500 invested in this old Windows 7, but I can't type on the new laptops that are flooding the market now:  scrabble squares sunken below the virtual desktop makes typing a horror.

So now I know: ONLY have ONE anti-virus program installed. 

We shall see.

One finger typing on a Kindle kept me from having any email contact or leaving comments at your blogs, but in the real, virtual world, I was a dynamo!!!  (when I wasn't napping)

First I put up all my card making supplies and turned the area into my sewing room.

Having never sewn a stand up collar, I spent $5 on material and made a blouse.  (Hey, it's a $5 let's not complain that it doesn't look super fashionable and that the collar looks.........wonky)  

It's also wrinkled and not ironed.  So, get off my back.

With an improved knowledge, I proceeded to make another blouse.  This time, at the horrendous cost of $7.

And look at that collar!!  NAILED IT!

By this time, I was sick of sewing and called  "the man who fixes your computer when he gets around to it" and listened to him sigh from answering the phone all day.


I took all those tissue paper pattern pieces that tear when you sneeze, bought some heavy weight shipping paper and made extra sturdy pattern pieces for future use.

Then I  straightened up my side of the walk-in closet............

By shoving everything into Joe's side.

*I don't think he owns any shoes*

But he now has emergency candles, lanterns, batteries, bug out bags, beeswax, herbal healing salves, moonshine, Joe's work boots, and lots and lots of super large, carry-all storage bags for emergency hospital runs, or "what-ever happens in the middle of the night and we can't find our underwear" types of scenarios.

And last, but not least, after five years I realized that Beau is afraid of the dark and night lights are not helpful.

So he now has his own bedroom with my prized Stiffel bedside lamp that stays on all night.

One more day of not having my computer and I would have added another room onto the house.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

AND THEN THE FIGHT STARTED (reprint from 2012)

Due to a virus I picked up by going where I shouldn't have been,  my computer went feet up to Jesus and ended up with "the man who fixes these things".  

So, just to keep you busy, I am reprinting a post I found at my old, and no longer in existence, blog.  Color me surprised.

 warning:  This post contains strong and vulgar sailor type language that all came out of MY mouth, and I'm not joking.

Read no further if you can't handle the darker side of life ... or me.


I've always talked big about the lengths
I'd go to, to protect an animal being abused.

Due to
my age,  I've always been concerned regarding just how far I COULD go if the case was to arise.

Today I found out.

The day started out with high hopes for peace and relaxation:  A quiet picnic with Joe fishing and me kicked back with a good book.

We drove to our favorite spot and discovered other people there too, lined up on the pier fishing:  "Probably snowbirds" we said in disgust.

But our spot on land was vacant and I spread out the blanket.

Immediately after we ate, Joe disappeared into the stone walled restroom (located far, DAMN FAR, away) prior to being on the pier for the next few hours.

I was gathering up the mess when I looked toward the pier and saw a man with a high-powered steel slingshot, shooting steel balls at - and hitting - the native birds that were floating beneath the pier.

One bird sunk from a direct hit and - as the other men gathered to watch - another steel shot hit a second bird.

I started walking toward the pier, asking myself with every step:  

"Dana, are you up to this?"

"Dana, are you REALLY going to do this?"

"Dana, you're hopelessly outnumbered here."

By the time I made it to where the man was standing, slingshot pulled taut, his eyes briefly noticing me as I approached, I smiled and asked:

"Where are you from?"

"MICHIGAN!" he proudly stated to who he assumed would be an admirer like the others 'appeared' to be.

I got IN HIS FACE and yelled:  "I should have known.  Most dickless-sons-of-bitches ARE from Michigan!

How DARE you come here and kill OUR birds!  That bird has been here for YEARS and you think you're going to kill another one?"

He stated it was considered a 'trash bird' in Michigan.

I said  "MOST things in Michigan are trash, so why don't you get your ass back there and leave us the hell alone!"
I was just getting ready to turn around and leave when he said:

"Well aren't YOU the welcoming committee with that mouth."


oh oh.  No he didn't...Yes.  Yes he did.


S*L*O*W*L*Y  I turned and quickly recovered the six feet I had walked as the crowd dispersed and every man on that pier was suddenly busy elsewhere with their rods and reels.

I honestly thought I could attack him physically and I think everyone was very aware that I was in the right and they wanted nothing to do with the situation in case the police showed up.

"It's ball-less bastards like you, hurting innocent animals that can't protect themselves, that MAKE people like me talk like this.  You're a rotten bastard for even defending yourself and that slingshot requires a permit.....and not one in MICHIGAN you sorry son-of-a-bitch.!"

end quote

I swear that the above is true and factual and NONE of it was exaggerated.


His wife (and, yes he had one) stood back about 20 feet and backed up again as I turned to leave.

By this time, Joe had finally appeared with his fishing gear and bait and as I sat down in my spot, I turned my chair to face the man and watched as his wife skittered down the pier to hide his slingshot in the trunk of the car.

Sadly, my phone call to the Fish and Game authorities didn't go through.

So much for cell phones when you need them.

Friday, January 9, 2015


About 8 years ago this precise area we live in came to a complete stop due to a hurricane.  No one could get into the area:  no one could get out, and the grocery store and pharmacy had disappeared.

When we first arrived 3 years later, Joe attended a Hurricane Preparedness Course, but through osmosis, I seemed to become the pre-planner where food and medical supplies were concerned, while he gathered lanterns, batteries and pronounced it  "Good e'nuff".  (you know how men are)

Knowing regular candles would turn the walls and ceilings into soot mavens, I got busy making a ton of beeswax candles.... Okay.  You've got me there.  I exaggerated.  Make that half a ton of beeswax candles.

I also ordered buckets of dehydrated and freeze dried foods from Auguson Farms (before switching to Mountain House) and turned the spare closets into canned food storage from the grocery store.

After I procured cast iron cookware, a Berkey water filter, a Versa Zoom rocket stove,  and stockpiled some necessary meds,  I then said "Good e'nuff".  And meant it.

But what if the food tasted NASTAY?  So we did our first "meal" while holding our noses and keeping a bucket nearby - just in case.

 First up was a Mountain House ProPak of chili mac and beef.

Surprisingly, the first ingredient was BEEF!!  Try buying anything at the grocery store with beef as the first ingredient!  (meaning there's more beef than anything else)

I even used our best paper bowls, so if it was too nauseating, there'd be nothing to clean up and we could throw all of it into bio-hazard bags.

The fantastic part where this particular prepper food company is concerned is that you COOK IN THE BAG!

I poured two cups of boiling water into the bag, resealed it, and in 8 was supposed to be edible.

There was enough for two large bowls and we ate every bite saying  "Wow.  This is GOOD!"  

And I ordered it from:

They even threw in a free packet of Rice & Chicken, and I'm confident it will be as good as the chili.

I see NO reason to prep for WWIII or a 'forever lasting' doomsday paranoia because there's too many variables and too many ways of failing.   But there are certain uncertainties that can be prepared for TO THE BEST OF YOUR ABILITIES.

Then say:  "Good e'nuff", and live your life without worrying about mice, floods, fire, and marauding looters out to get your macaroni.

And now for the grand reveal you have all been clamoring for - (actually, no one asked) but you're getting it anyway.

I removed the bias tape from around the bottom of the jean apron because the puckering was driving this OCD person crazy.

I then made a lined 18" wide by 7" deep pocket and attached it all the way across the front of the jeans, giving me two jean pockets and one super pocket on the front.

Tuesday, January 6, 2015


It seems the exact moment I told ya'll that I was feeling pretty good, "those whose names shall not be mentioned"  heard me and decided to beat the crap outta me by sending me to bed for about a week.

In real life, whenever Joe asks  "How ya feelin'?",  he has learned to hush and cower.  I'm not superstitious, but I know not to poop in my mess kit by saying  "I'm okay."  And I had screwed the pooch with my New Year's Eve post.

I didn't really have anything specifically wrong....  Nothing with a scientific name - yet.  Just very...very...half dead.

So on the day I did start feeling  "kinda okay, but not really."  (shhhh.  They're listening).  I cleaned the house and prepared meals for a few days - just in case, and my engine light was warning me to remain upright.

So I dragged out the sewing machine and here's the first thing I accomplished.  

A tote for one of my readers who went above and beyond on Christmas, making the day extra pleasurable for Joe, Beau, and me.

Here's the inside, with lots of pockets 
and a place for ink pens and car keys.

Another one, but it's for myself. 

So I used cheap and thin fabric....that's how I roll.

See the peacock feather?  

I taped the material to a sheet of typing paper 
and ran it through the printer.  VOILA!

What then!?  

I decided to make an apron.

What?  Wouldn't you?

 I cut up a pair of Indiana blue jeans like this:

This is the front of the pants and I left the waistband on.

Then I cut the bottom of one of the legs off.  Cut two curves for my arms, 

and this will be the top of the apron after I attach it to the front waistband.

Using the leftover material from my tote, I made my own binding, (the part I hate the most)  and sewed it around the raw edges....

I then sewed a neck strap with a cute button and buttonhole, 
and attached additional straps to the waistband of the jeans.

Joe snapped this photo of me without warning,
while I was tying it in back.

WHY do men do that?
Nuckin' Futz, that's why.

update for my Pinterest followers:

Due to the puckering from the bias tape I made, I used the last of the material to sew a lined, 18" x 7" deep "pocket" that I sewed across the bottom of the jean front.  MUCH more of an actual apron now and with more coverage.

Thursday, January 1, 2015


I want to thank all my friends for their heartfelt wishes and words of love and encouragement regarding my New Year's Eve post. 

It's a good thing I wrote it on Sunday and scheduled it to appear on New Year's Eve, because I have been "abed" since Monday and not online.  (that's what I get for mentioning how good I felt at the time)

This post may be up for longer than usual, depending on how quickly I bounce back.  I wrote it during my one moment of lucidness...or not.

*and now for something completely different*

Joe and I did not just "up and move" without first knowing the area we were moving to. 

My argument was regarding the lack of good medical care and good hospitals.  His argument was that this area would remind me a lot of my home, with it's fields and rural feel.

It's a small area that - for the most part, is crime free.  Until you go into the neighboring town where you know better than  to enter after dark.

The only time there's a problem here, is when our area has visitors from 'that' area.  Houses, cars, belongings, are suddenly no longer private property.  The fact that every thing we own was paid for with money earned by a lifetime of working means nothing when it is seen as community property - if you want it, take it, kind of mind-set.

The elementary school across the  street has the sweetest children that can be seen playing in the field at recess.  There's no screaming, cussing, fighting, and each child obeys the playground supervisors without argument.

SO IT WAS DECIDED this would be the perfect place to incorporate a low/no income housing project between the school and the Publix grocery store.  Many acres that were dedicated to trees as a wind break during hurricane season will now be a well known address at the police station.

The school will need extra playground supervision, classes will overflow, and the joyous squeals at recess will become yells for help or sounds of fighting.

As I have said before, it's a natural occurrence in life for things to go too far (over correction) in one direction before it returns to even keel, much like the pendulum on a clock.

This country is now a country overtaken by true racists who are not asking for equality but demanding total power on their terms.

A few chosen sentences of  I HAVE A DREAM are readily repeated, but their ability to ignore facts is also their top priority: 

 At no time will you ever hear "I HAVE A DREAM" quoted in such a way as to include these words of Martin Luther King: 

 "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."  

What these latest events are putting into motion could possibly be the one thing they claim already exists:  A total backlash against them.  Too bad for us that we're outnumbered at this point, but something has to give.

My buddy SNOWBRUSH is much more eloquent than I, and this Youtube video is at his place today.

I will give you a heads-up by mentioning the point of the video actually takes place around the 100 mark in the time bar.