Comments Please!!!

Like most writers there is a part of me that knows what I write is passable but deep in a hidden recess of my brain there is still a small nagging voice that asks, "Do people enjoy what I write?

If you read any of my blog entries, let me know what you think,  even if it's a simple, like or I don't get it.  Writer's can only grow stronger by having feedback. You, my audience, are my critique group for Fruit to Nuts.  Please, critique away.  Until next time, help make a child a reader, let them see you reading a book, magazine, blog post or report.

Black Holes

There have been several stories of late involving the new frontier.  A man donned a space suite and ascended to the brink of space in a souped up balloon, then parachuted back to Earth.  The mere thought puts my vertigo into hyper-drive.  I constantly tell my husband, "If you ever want to get rid of me and have it look natural. put me on a roller-coaster.  I'll be dead from a heart attack with-in the first two minutes, maybe less."
My home is an inter-active model of Space.  There is a debris field floating around waiting to smack you in the face and aliens who have taken over the bodies of my cats and dogs so they can observe a "normal" Earth family.  Then, there's the Black Hole.  I can't see it, black holes are invisible but I know it's there.  In the last year I have had two sets of truck keys disappear.  You say, "Don't you mean lost?"  No, vanished, gone, vaporized...  I have torn my house apart by putting things away and recycling countless pounds of paper.  No keys. I emptied the black hole that is my purse, no keys.   I know they should be there, I had to have them in order to drive home.  I have looked under furniture, in pockets on the ground.  No keys. 
Other items have gone missing in the past.  A couple of years ago a can of varnish vanished without a trace.  The aliens must have finished with it because I found it years later in a flower bed.  I had no idea that space aliens had teeth that left dents like a canine.  Wait, I said the aliens had taken over my dogs and cats, so that explains the teeth marks.
I keep waiting for the black hole to spit back my keys.  I had to have a new key made so I would have wheels.  A new key with micro-chip, without an existing key to program from is painfully expensive.  If I didn't need wheels now, I would have waited for a cheaper solution, going on an inter-galactic space hunt.

Until next time, keep your keys close and your eyes telescoped on your cats and dogs, they are out there watching our every move.

Mucking Around In The Mud

“Summer time and the living is easy…”.  Children are out of school and parents are pulling their hair out while it storms in parts of the country keeping everyone inside.

So, what do you get when you mix children and summer rain?   You get a whole lot of fun in the mud.    Mud puddles are magnates.  If you doubt this, watch a child or dog after a good rain.  They will go out of their way to jump in the middle of the biggest puddle making as big a splash as possible. We used to have a leaking sprinkler head that made a huge puddle.  I would watch as our dog made a bee-line for it and splashed until she was soaked and caked with mud.  She always had a happy, goofy look on her face when she finished. The look on my face was not happy or goofy.

Recently, I saw a picture of someone covered in mud.  I mean they looked like a mud sculpture they were so completely covered.  I clicked on the story to find it had to do with a mud festival up north.  I was intrigued. Were there more mud festivals, you bet.  I found celebrations involving mud all over the globe. 

Reading about the celebrations of mud I thought about all the fun I had as a child making mud pies, squishing it between my bare toes and yes, throwing a big handful on someone.  Today mud is used in spas.  Most of us have watched a scene where the character(s) are sitting in a tub of mud, or laying down swathed in robes with mud all over their face.  I, myself, use a powdered mud product I mix and put on my face.  I have to say, it does pull the impurities out of my skin.  Maybe I should try a full body mud treatment.

Children know instinctively what to do with mud, but for those of us without imaginations there are web sites dedicated to activities involving mud.  Children love the stuff and according to the pictures I saw of celebrations and festivals around the world dedicated to mud, the fun doesn’t stop in childhood.

A neighbor told me about how she and her cousins used a muddy field, a tractor and skis or a boogie board to go, as she called it, Redneck skiing.  It sounded like fun.  Guys and I guess gals too put huge tires on their trucks and head on over to the local mud ranch to sling  as much mud as their trucks can muster.  

That’s all for today until next time take off your shoes the next time it rains and be a kid, run without abandon through the nearest mud puddle, you’ll be glad you did.

From Dog House to Spa: The Ultimate Pampered Pooch

          Back when I was growing up, taking care of the family pet was a walk in the park.You took them for their shots once a year and when they looked or acted poorly you took them to see the local vet.  They ate Gravy Train for dinner and slept on a rug or in a basket.  Children went out to play and Rover followed them all over the neighborhood. 

Speed forward fifty years.  You can still buy Gravy Train but there is also Chef Michaels’ gourmet stew in small tubs, no left-overs for fussy eaters.  Bakeries that cater to the canine palate have sprung up across America from big cities to small towns.  Birthday parties as well as weddings complete with dresses, tuxes, rings, cakes etc. can be catered and orchestrated.

If you have an uptown kind of dog, you can find collars with jewels that cost more than my daughter’s college education.  And of course you can buy the most chic outfit to show it off.

It used to be you went off with your girlfriends for a spa weekend.  Now you can have a spa weekend with your pooch.  She gets a blueberry facial, massage, aroma therapy and a swim.   If you live in the city and work, you can send your best friend out for a good run with an athlete or send them to doggie daycare.

   Want to spend more time with your doggie?  Take a yoga class with him/her.  When the owner is relaxed and feeling good, the pet relaxes and a strong connection is made between the two.

If you live in California, you can subscribe to Dog TV.  They show a variety of shows to relax the anxious dog, stimulate the sluggish dog and entertain.  At some day care and boarding centers, they show dog friendly movies and give aroma therapy.  

For pet lovers who don’t have a pool, you can join a swim club for dogs.  One of our local vets has a bone shaped pool behind her clinic.  She hosts dog swim parties a couple of times a summer. 

Have a best friend, who is a little large for a pool?  Take him to a dog beach and play together in the sand.

There are as many extravagances for dog lovers and their constant companions as there are breeds.  That’s all for today, I have to go massage my Angel while her blueberry mask sets.  Then we’re going for a swim.  What do you do to pamper your furry loved ones?  Tell us in the comment box.

Hard Rock Café and Casino, Watch out for the Grannies!

The story a few weeks ago about a weekly gathering of elderly women in Cyprus brought back memories from my childhood.  This group of genarians  got together once a week.  Apparently on this day they preferred poker to bridge.  It also just happened the police chose this day to raid the party, arresting about 40 women. The women, were all 70 and older, including a 98 year old.  The cash involved was small, probably a little higher than penny poker (a penny doesn’t go as far as it used to).  When the attorney general heard about the arrests, he quickly dropped all charges.  Maybe one of the ladies was his grandmother. 

From my earliest days I remember the weekly poker game that took place in my home-town.  Like in Guys and Dolls, the game moved from one house to another.  Not because the players were afraid of being found out, but to give everyone a chance to provide the beer and peanuts.  The group that gathered was a distinguished lot, a well known attorney, professors, doctors and of course the clerk of the court.  It was amazing, these professional men started acting like rowdy teenagers the moment they crossed the threshold.  They whooped and hollered, told what they thought were bawdy jokes and generally had a good time.  As the group aged, the games ended earlier, the pots grew bigger and the drinking less.  Age forced some to hitch a ride with a fellow poker player, making parking easier.  Life cycles changed the roster every so often and on weeks when they couldn’t find enough players, the game was cancelled.  I don’t know if there is still a game going on, all I know is the group my dad played with is long gone.  May the gents from the old poker game always be able to ante up and put together a winning hand.  As I finish this entry, I wonder, if a strip poker game is raided, would the players be arrested?  After all, there would be no money in the pot to use as evidence.  On the other hand, the loser might be arrested for indecent exposure since they wouldn’t be wearing any if much clothing. 

Until next time, when playing any form of strip game, make sure you’re the winner either by actually winning the game or losing to a really cute opponent.

‘

The Chamilian Car

I read a story the other day about a Grandma who caught four men stealing her car from a parking lot. She threw down her bags, pulled out her .38 and yelled, "Get away from the car or I'll shoot." The four immediately took off at lightening speed. The woman proceeded to put her bags in the back seat and go home. She tried and tried to start the car but the key wouldn't fit the ignition. That's when she noticed personal items in the car that weren't hers. Face red, she realized she was in the wrong car. Her car, same make, model and color was one row over. She drove to the police station to report what she had done. The officer on duty smiled and pointed to a group of men who were reporting a car jacking by a little old lady. No charges were filed.

I drive a Desert Sand Camry. If the Camry is one of the most popular cars, Desert Sand must be the most popular color. Every time I go out I pass several Camrys that look just like mine. I have even parked next to an identical Camry at Wal-Mart. Now, I didn't go as far as pulling a weapon and ordering a group of would-be thieves to move away from the car but I have to admit I have mistakenly gotten into the wrong Camry at Wal-Mart.
I opened the front door, threw my bags in the passenger seat. As I leaned over I noticed a a sweater tossed over the the back of the passenger seat. It didn't look familiar but I checked it off to being my daughter's. As I tried to put the key in the ignition I saw a banana peel slung over the dash. I may not have recognized my daughter's sweater but I knew I hadn't left a blackening banana peel on my dash. That's when I started noticing other small details that screamed, get out of the car, it's not yours! I couldn't scramble out of that car fast enough. I worried what I would say if the real owner came back as I was taking my bags out. No one came and I successfully found and drove off in my Desert Sand Camry. If the other owner had come back, I would have complimented them on their choice of car and pray they had a good sense of humor. Until next time remember, bright, neon colored autos never get lost in a crowded parking lot.

My Annual Christmas Letter

Merry Christmas from the Ritchie’s where Christmas stays year round
Christmas 2011

It’s hard to imagine it’s Christmas again. Time seemed to stand still at 10 Bogey Drive, no wait, time didn’t stand still, I never put the decorations away last year making decorating this year a snap.
I’ll get the sad news out of the way first, so I can leave you with a smile at the end. My dad’s health went down-hill this past year. In November of 2010 he broke his hip while learning how to safely get in and out of bed, irony at its best or worst. I rushed to Gainesville to sign the consent forms for surgery. To make a long story short, we lost him on February 3rd of 2011. Mac, Edward and I took his ashes to Camden this past August and among friends and family buried him next to his parents and brother.
So far Frank has survived Governor Scott’s drastic draining of the Water Management District. The Bartow office is scheduled to close in January. Frank and the remaining engineers will work from a smaller space or commute to Tampa or Brooksville.
Frank had minor surgery this year on his right leg. He had a calcium blockage in the main artery. The doctor went in and chiseled it out. The procedure was successful and he’s back to his normal activities.
Susan is in her third year at Belmont Abbey, officially she is a senior but with her double major will graduate next year, then it’s on to Veterinary School. I can’t wait to get my discounted vet care for all my furry children.
Susan turned 21 in September, in October I got a phone call, “Mom, don’t sound so happy, I have bad news.” Being the concerned parent that I am, I immediately asked if she and Flo (her car) were okay. Turns out she was sipping a glass of wine and tipped it over into the keyboard of her MacBook. She quickly said she was not drunk, just clumsy. Her friend Frank who is a computer whiz helped her find and purchase another laptop, not an Apple but good for what she needs. The conversation ended with how she set a piece of bread on fire in the cafeteria. Only Susan could do all this in the same week.
I belong to the Florida Writer’s Association, every year they sponsor a conference and writing contest. I have been a finalist for the last three or four years, this year I finally won third place for my picture book manuscript, Daisy’s Hat. I showed it to an agent at the conference who liked the idea but suggested I tweak out one third of the words. I have been working on the revision, writer’s always say writing is easy, it’s the revision that is H@**. They are right.
I am convinced our house is on a yoyo diet. No sooner do I recycle pounds and pounds of paper, an equal amount plus some sneaks back in. Every year I commit to cleaning out our house, every year flies by with only minimal progress. Maybe I should just get some TNT and blow it all away in one swoop. Or I could hold a contest, the person who fills the most trash bags and puts away the most keepers wins a Classic French Dinner, cooked by none other than moi; after all, I am a trained French Chef. Any takers?
Angel has sprung back to life this past year, she started slowing down until the little Twit (Gabriel’s nickname) moved in. Just when you start relaxing he comes along and stirs things up. He, Angel and Rocky get out and zoom all over the yard, I have never seen a dog run as fast as Gabriel. There’s a sign with a dog that says, “I can make it to the fence in 3 seconds, can you?” That could be Gabriel talking. Of course, once at the fence is drown you in slobber. Angel does her best to keep up but age and arthritis has slowed her down. She has lost weight this year from all the extra activity. Dr. Ezell was pleased about that. Angel has never liked to swim but Gabriel has turned into a champ, we have a clip on YouTube of the two of us swimming laps. He now jumps in whenever he gets on the pool deck. I always have towels on hand for drying. Gabriel has other tricks too, if the door is unlocked, he lets himself and any other critter lurking about, into the house. Another thing he does is eat then put his head in your lap and let out a loud burp. One night we left him in his crate, to our surprise he met us at the door when we got home. He learned to shake the crate until the back side collapses, I guess it’s a good thing he is house broken.
Gabe, Frank and I all graduated from obedience class. We did the basic and the next level. Now that he is over a year old, I plan to have him evaluated as a reading dog.
Our young family next door stays on the go. Little Alexander who joined us the week between Christmas and New Years has grown from a tiny, wrinkled bundle to a whopping one year old. His smile is disarming and his blue eyes make it a doubly so. His big brother Pito keeps growing too and maturing too. He keeps everyone on their toes. He loves the pool and playing Ninja warrior.
Well that’s, that’s all folks until next year. Remember to visit my blog, fruit2nuts.blogspot.com for some comic relief during the year. I’ll leave you with this image,
My brother Edward and I went to Camden in the spring to take a look at our family property. The once clear fields were waist high in growth, it was not a walk in the park. Through the middle runs a creek. Edward made it across without incident, I stared at the rocks and shook my head. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll help you. Just step where I did” I stepped on the first rock, stoped to regain my balance before taking the next. I got to the middle before I slipped landing on my feet. I blew out a breath of relief, I could handle wet feet and now that they were wet I didn’t have to worry about balancing on rocks. My next step landed in a hole where my foot wedged between two rocks. I went down without warning. I was drenched. Edward helped me up. I finished our survey in squishing shoes and clinging Levi’s.
Take care, and if you visit Lego Land, come by and sit for a spell. I’ll leave out a glass of my famous Cranberry Liqueur or homemade wine for you.