Posted in senses

Do you smell that?

Photo by Nick de Partee on Unsplash

“It always smells in here.”

I chuckled at my wife’s comment as I opened the door for her. I knew she was right. Goodwill stores are filled with row after row of clothing donated from innumerable closets. You can find new items with price tags still on them. You’ll also discover pieces with stains that were never washed out.

We weren’t there in search of clothing. We hoped to find a few vintage plates, cups, and saucers to use as photo props. But we had to walk past aromatic racks of shirts and pants to get to that part of the store.

Later, I thought about other places that always smell. That’s not always a bad thing, is it?

  • Like a bakery, for instance. It’s hard not to like the smell of freshly baked bread and cookies.
  • What about a shop that sells leather goods? A store filled with belts, jackets, wallets, and vests has a distinctive and inviting smell.
  • A coffee shop smells wonderful. Noisy grinders and hissing espresso machines fill the air with the aroma of roasted beans from all over the world.
  • The smell of barbecue hits me before I walk in the front door of a place with an active pit. You can smell the smoked meat from inside the car as you drive by.
  • What about cedar? They aren’t common, but it always smells so good when I walk into a cedar closet.

Other great aromas include the ocean, pine trees, freshly cut grass, and a brand new car. It’s amazing how much smell is a part of the places we go and the things we experience.

Posted in Home improvement

Another shelf bites the dust

Just so you know, these are not my shelves.

“What in the world was that?” The crashing sound came from the garage. It almost sounded like someone crashed into the garage door. But the overhead door was open. Maybe the neighbor across the street was working on something in his garage. No, it didn’t look like he was home.

When I stepped into the garage, I saw stuff all over the floor. A shelf had come down off the wall above my workbench, scattering boxes of nails and screws across the floor, dumping out another box of household batteries, and leaving the light, eero (wifi repeater), and echo hanging from wires. And the worst – the plastic box with all my fountain pen ink bottles.

Fortunately, that last box was still closed up. But a bottle had broken open, covering everything in blue ink. I fished out some ink cartridges and converters, and then threw the whole thing away. I couldn’t even tell which bottle of red, green, blue, or black was which.

After I got some better hollow wall anchors at the hardware store, I reattached the shelf and decided to put all the organizer boxes of nails, screws, nuts and washers in a workbench drawer. Lighter things like a can of WD-40, picture hanging hardware, the box of batteries, and some extension cords were fine up on the shelf.

I hadn’t planned on it, but this was a good chance to declutter my workbench area. It’s interesting how stuff accumulates in places around the house. Unless you intentionally declutter, stuff will take over your living spaces. I gathered up various screws, wrappers, rags, packets of seeds, receipts, dog toys and leaches, tools, pens and pencils which accumulated there. Since we enter the house through the garage, this surface is the catchall spot for just about everything.

Clutter happens. Decluttering is intentional. Sometimes I remember. Other times a shelf falls off the wall to remind me.

Posted in books

A favorite book: Ripley’s Believe It or Not!

Daily writing prompt
Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?

I was just thinking about childhood books a few days ago. One of my grandsons asked, “Can we go to ‘Ripley’s Believe it or Not!’ again?” My wife and I took them to the first permanent odditorium in St. Augustine last summer. The older boy loved it. The younger was too weirded out to make it through the whole museum.

When he asked his question, I had a flashback to my childhood. Some of my favorite books were the Ripley’s Believe It or Not! paperbacks. I think my mom bought me a couple of them at a church rummage sale. I would lay on my bed and read those books over and over again, long before that first attraction opened. I was fascinated by drawings of the world’s tallest man, a goat with two heads, a tree growing through a house, and pages of amazing things.

A close second would be a World War two comic book about air battles in the south Pacific. The only thing I remember is the words used for the sound of the guns: “budda-budda-budda!” So my brother, sister, and I would call this the budda-budda book.

I must have really liked Hardy Boys mysteries, too. I remember checking them all out one at a time from the library.

Posted in dogs, running, walking

Don’t worry about me. Just go.

Photo by Alex Radelich on Unsplash

She stopped right in the middle of the road.

I shouted, “What are you doing?” I actually shouted that to the Great Dane who was, for once, obediently sitting next to me. We were just waiting for the traffic to pass so we could cross the street and continue our walk.

But this lady decided to stop. Right in the middle of the road. Right in the middle of a busy street.

Okay, let me explain. I’m a city boy. I grew up in suburban Philadelphia. You don’t walk out in front of traffic. Not if you don’t want to die. But here in Florida, people do it all the time. I know, pedestrians have the right of way. But that’s assuming pedestrians have looked both ways to see if any cars are coming.

The rules are different in Florida. I blame Walmart. In front of their store, cars have to stop for people walking through the striped areas of the parking lot. I watch many walk out without a glance for oncoming cars. I’m not so brave. I wait. I let them go. I don’t trust them. (I don’t trust anyone.) I’m not going to walk in front of any car, assuming it will stop for me.

So we are out for our morning walk. The Great Dane and I have crossed to the middle island of the four lane parkway that runs north and south through our city. She is doing well today. She sits next to me as we wait for the traffic to pass. I am ready to say, “Heel,” as the last car in a pack goes by. But the car slows and comes to a stop. Really? Just like that, when other cars are zipping by?

I’m not falling for that. We’re staying put. I simply look away, as if I don’t notice them at all. I’ll wait. I’ve got all day. Finally, they drive off, and we can cross the road.

I’ve had this problem running, too. I am pacing myself, waiting for a car to pass, and they slow down or stop. They think they are doing me a favor. I chuckle, and run around behind them. Just drive your car. Don’t worry about me. Just go.

I’ve run and biked enough miles that I know how to avoid people who aren’t paying attention, couldn’t care less, and probably shouldn’t be driving anyway. You live longer when you’ve got some situational awareness and don’t trust anyone.

Posted in Food

Lemonade? Yes, please!

Photo by Laura Chouette on Unsplash

A while ago, I joked with my barber, “The only thing you need cash for anymore is a haircut and drugs.” When I wrote about this, I came up with a list of scenarios where cash makes sense.

But I left one out. The lemonade stand. While walking the dogs (yeah, I know, a lot of life happens walking the dogs) we happened upon a garage sale around the corner from our house. We were excited to see big bags of Legos and other kids toys. Once we got home, we got some cash at the ATM, and headed back, happy that those items hadn’t sold yet.

After I grabbed the two five-pound bags of Legos, a “Lemonade” sign caught my eye. Yes! A young lady was standing at a table behind a bowl of ice and a jug of lemonade. Her eyes lit up when I said, “I’d like a glass of lemonade.”

When she filled a red solo cup with ice, her older brother said, “Whoa, not so much ice!”

“It’s okay; I like a lot of ice!”

After she filled a second cup with ice for my wife, she asked, “Can you help me pour it?” The unopened gallon jug of lemonade was a little much for her to manage, so I filled the two cups and left two dollars in the bowl on the table. She then said, “You need a napkin,” and unfolded a lemon-shaped napkin for me to put my drink on.

I asked, “Did you make this lemonade?”

“No, we bought it at the store.”

As we talked for the next few minutes, I learned that she was five years old and had just finished kindergarten at the school up the street. Her older brother would be in fourth grade next year. their family attended a church just across the street from the backyard.

After a few sips, the young lady asked if I needed more. I said, “Not yet.” But I assured her that the people poking through the garage sale merchandise would see my drink and want some lemonade of their own. She started getting some cups of ice ready just in case.

A few months ago we drove past a corner lemonade stand on the way to my daughter’s house. I so wanted to stop, but had no cash. I said, “I really should keep a few dollars in my wallet.” Either that or let your kids have a QR code on the sign for digital payment.

A lemon-flavored beverage is mentioned in the history of 12th century Egypt. The first lemonade stand was set up in New York City in 1879. I’ll bet kids have been selling it ever since. Believe it or not, some states require a permit to sell lemonade. I would hope that local law enforcement would have more important things to do that shut these down.

My memories are hazy, but I think I had a lemonade stand when I was growing up. If so, mom would have supplied the cups, ice, and lemonade. Pure profit for us!

Posted in zoo

I’m still learning new things at the zoo

I learned so much when I went to the Jacksonville zoo last week. With five grandchildren in tow, my wife and I, with our daughter, rode the little train to the back of the zoo to begin our day. On the way, the train operator shared information I had never heard before, and we’ve been coming to this zoo for decades.

  • The Jacksonville zoo has one bull elephant, Ali, who is thirty-four years old. Ali is a donation from Michael Jackson’s Neverland ranch.
  • The zoo also has the world’s oldest white rhino. His name is Archie, and he is fifty-one years old. His dirt-sprinkled back makes him easy to spot in his habitat.
  • This zoo rehabilitates injured manatees. They had four on site, but can accommodate six. Manatees usually drift along below the water, but one was floating on the surface. An injury kept the manatee in the front tank from sinking, floating, and swimming around as it normally would.
  • We got to watch two seven-month-old tiger cubs wrestle and chase each other around. A zoo worker explained that tigers and other big cats don’t purr. They “chuff,” a breathy snort from their nostrils. I never knew that.

No matter how many times I visit the zoo, I always learn something new. By the time I leave, I’m even more awed by and grateful for creation!

Posted in zoo

Spending some time with the giraffes

It’s always fun feeding the giraffes at the zoo. It was even better when the big guy, A. J., showed up for a snack yesterday.

It was the perfect day for a trip to the zoo. My wife and I had two grandsons with us, and we met my daughter with her three girls. We got there early, so it wasn’t hot or crowded. For an extra ten bucks you get unlimited carousel and train rides, 4D movies, and feeding the giraffes at the zoo.

We took the train to the back end of the zoo, where we got to see the two seven-month-old tiger cubs and the Komodo dragon. After that we rode the carousel twice, played on the splash pad, brushed the goats, and ate lunch. Then it was on to the lions, elephants, manatees, and the giraffes.

Feeding the giraffes means a zoo worker gives you a leafy branch and you hold it out so a waiting giraffe can take it from you with her long, blue tongue. Carrying our one-year-old granddaughter, I got in line for her first giraffe experience.

When it was our turn, the male giraffe nudged his way up to the platform. The Jacksonville, FL zoo has a number of females, but only one male. He doesn’t come over for a snack very often, so this was a special occasion.

His name is A. J., and he is sixteen-and-half feet tall. I held out our elm branch, and he only sniffed it at first. The zoo worker said, “He likes to think about it first.” A. J. then licked it, but didn’t take the branch. Finally, he wrapped his foot-long tongue around the stick and crunched it up as my granddaughter pulled back a few inches.

I’ve fed the giraffes before, but never realized how much bigger the males are. I knew they had horns on their head, but never knew that the horns had fur and patches of color just like the rest of his body.

It was cool seeing giraffes in the wild on a safari in Kenya ten years ago. It’s cool to see one up close, too.

In the Masai Mara, Kenya, Africa, 2013
Posted in shopping

Double carts: my good deed for the day

I know not all Walmarts are created equal. Some are newer, brighter, and equipped with row after row of self-checkout lanes. Mine is older, dingier, and showing it’s age.

I learned the hard way to take a cart in with me from the parking lot. More often than not, that’s where they all are. Few if any make their way back into the store.

I’ve started wheeling two carts in with me. As I walk through the automatically-opening doors, I always encounter someone standing there, wondering what to do, since there aren’t any shopping carts. I know, the easy answer is, “Go back out and get one.” But for some reason, they don’t. They stand there with a puzzled look on their face. They look for an employee to go and bring in some carts. (Good luck with that.) Or, they are there when I’m walking in. With an extra cart in front of me, I offer, “Would you like a cart?”

I’m a hero. At least for five seconds. Then they are on their way. The other day, when I brought in an extra cart, a woman commented, “You’ve got a job if you want it!”

No one should be surprised. If you have to select all your own groceries, scan them, bag them, and pay at self-service stations, of course you should have to wheel in your own shopping cart. If you don’t want to do all of that, pick out your groceries online, let someone else wander the aisles to select them for you and bring them out to your car a few hours later.

As kids, we loved pushing the cart, picking out groceries, unloading the cart, and bagging the food. Who didn’t sneak something extra into the cart when mom wasn’t looking? Adulting means you either do everything yourself or let someone else do it all for you.

Anyway, that’s now my good deed for the day. I do not relish a trip to Walmart. But it helps us stick to our budget. And it makes me feel a little less selfish in a self-centered world.

Posted in dogs

Field trip: the dog wash

Most of our dogs have loved the water. Gabriel (Labrador retriever) would happily leap in any body of water, from lake to ocean, to retrieve a ball or a stick. Samson (German shepherd mix) loved to run through muddy, rain-filled swales along our neighborhood streets. Winston (Westie) will chase water squirted from a hose all afternoon. Yesterday, we couldn’t keep him out of the surf.

We’ve never had a dog who didn’t like the water. Until now. Except for long, sloppy drinks, Willow (Great Dane) has no use for water. She runs away from a squirt from the hose. She prefers to keep her distance from the ocean. She’s curious about the shower, but only through a glass door.

What about bath time? Willow’s not a fan. When she was smaller, we could leash her to the fence in the backyard and force her to bathe. But at eighty pounds, I’m afraid she’ll bring the fence down.

So yesterday’s field trip was to the Salty Dogs DIY dog wash. It shares a building with a BP station. The shop is equipped with four dog wash stations. You don’t need a reservation. Just walk in, tether your dog in a station, bathe, rinse, and let them shake water all over in a place that’s not your bathroom.

Willow knew something was going on. Even with the lure of treats, it took two of us to push her up the ramp into the tub. Once we had her tethered to a hand rail, I hugged her while my wife soaked her down and then sprayed her with soap. I grabbed a nearby bottle of shampoo and added more so we could each wash an end. After a nice rinse, Willow didn’t mind the blow dry. Her short hair dries very quickly. She was more than happy to bounce out of the tub all by herself.

While I paid for our visit, which included all the water, soap, and towels we needed, Willow knocked over a bucket full of rawhide bones, scattering them across the floor. For her efforts, they gave her a free one and let us bring one home for Winston, too.

A visit to this dog wash is $20, but it was Tuesday, so we got the $16 special. We may join the Tub Club, which is $24.95 a month for unlimited washes. They also have groomers and a full menu of services. It’s a cool little place, and beats going through the car wash with the windows open and Willow in the passenger seat.