OFF TO SEE THE PRINCESS GOWNS

Later this year, my friend Rose & I will be going down to Fort Lauderdale to catch our plane to Ecuador. The last time I was in Fort Lauderdale was during the autumn of 2004. This was shortly after the double hurricanes devastated the Treasure Coast.

Almost constantly, I was on the phone trying to reach a contractor or even a handyman. These calls were all being ignored. My porch screens were blown out, the yard (front & back) was full of shingles from my roof, along with piles of other debris. And I had just received a joke check from my Insurance Company! You bet I was going to complain!

When the phone rang, I jumped to answer it! The caller was a neighbor, an older widow who lived down the street. She along with a small group of friends were planning to see the Princess Diana Exhibit at the Museum of Art down in Fort Lauderdale. I was invited along.

“Put me down for a ticket!” I replied. My home was a depressing disaster area, this diversion was highly welcomed.

Tickets purchased, we were scheduled to visit the week before Thanksgiving. However, only 1 week before, my neighbor phoned with bad news. She had fallen in the tub and injured her back! The trip was off and our $20 tickets were UNREFUNDABLE. Plus she had charge of our tickets!

“My friends all took a vote,” she declared, “and decided that we’re all going or no one is going.” 

Two days earlier, I received another miniscule check from my Insurance Company, the FINAL one and I would be paying the lion’s share for repairs (including the cost of a new roof) out of my own pocket. The thought of throwing away $20 made me ill!

However all was not lost; one of those friends contacted the museum. Our tickets would be honored at a later date. Now we were going 2 weeks before Christmas. A younger lady was going to drive us in her SUV. Unfortunately, the car was too high for my neighbor to climb, so she insisted the lady drive HER car which was far smaller. Besides my neighbor & me, there were 3 other women. We were all trim, yet the back seat felt uncomfortably crowded.

Instead of the scenic route, they opted for the fast one. We were now into the height of tourist & snowbird season. Traffic was a nightmare! We waited a long time in line at a toll booth. The driver complained her vision was limited by the heavy traffic. She wasn’t sure she was even in the right line, but that one appeared blocked off.

“We’re going to Fort Lauderdale,” she told the man in the booth.” He just smiled back, never once informing us that we were going in the wrong direction! We soon discovered we were headed toward Disney World, NOT Fort Lauderdale!

For long miles we were unable to make a turn. After we found ourselves out in the sticks with few cars, the driver wanted to chance an illegal turn.

“Don’t you dare!” my neighbor hollered, “It’s my car and you’ll get me in trouble!”

Eventually we came upon a rest area with a service station, restaurant etc.; the driver used this as an opportunity to turn and get us on the right path. At last we were headed south! We’d already lost an hour on our long drive.

Eventually, we reached Fort Lauderdale. Now we couldn’t locate the Museum of Art! Our driver stopped to ask a man for directions.

“You have a flat tire!” were the first words out of his mouth. He pointed toward the front of the car, before giving us directions. We were close! But first, we needed to get to a garage. The man told us one was nearby.

“We‘re too busy today and can’t take on any more work,” the owner apologized.

We explained our situation and pleaded with all our might. Eventually, a mechanic stepped forward and came to our rescue. We all chipped in to give him a generous tip!

We’d already lost a lot of time and it was getting late in the afternoon, but were hungry, so we stopped for scones & coffee before heading into the museum.

As soon as we stepped inside, we were in awe. Princess Diana’s gorgeous gowns were gloriously on display. Many, I recognized from TV and the news such as the sparkling & bejeweled Elvis dress and the sexy one in fiery red. The padded outfit she wore into the mine field was also there.

The only disappointment was her wedding dress. Without her inside, it was ugly. And the fabric seemed dingy. It looked as if it had been her great grandmother’s old gown that had been retrieved from a dusty trunk after a century. And on TV it appeared so beautiful!

Her personal mementos were also there, along with photos. It was well worth our ordeal to see!

Our group had planned to enjoy a leisurely dinner afterward in Fort Lauderdale. However, my neighbor just remembered she had forgotten to let her cats out. “They’ll mess in my house!” she exclaimed. “And I left the door to my computer open! They’ll get hair on the keyboard.”

All the way back to Vero Beach, she complained about the heavy traffic slowing us down.

As we pulled into her driveway, her cats raced toward the front door. They had been outside all along!!!

At 9:00 PM most of us were already exhausted, I considered just walking home and fixing myself a sandwich. Instead, I went with the other ladies to the local Ruby Tuesday’s for dinner.

Afterward, the gas tank was nearly empty, so we attended to that. My neighbor announced that we all needed to open our wallets and contribute our share. I almost wanted to throw it in her face after all the trouble she caused!

THIS ROSE WILL NEVER BE A VIOLET

I think of my friend Rose every time I see that Android commercial with the monkey & raccoon playing, the puppy & goat frolicking, & the lama & zebra romping together. Or maybe I’m confusing this with unlikely animal friends, either way that’s Rose & me! We’re completely different animals; in fact polar opposites. Yet we are super friends and enjoy tons of fun and laughter together!

Rose sees the glass as half full of champagne; I see it half empty, cracked & teaming with germs. She feels your pain, I am a pain! She’s a night owl, I’m an early bird. Rose loves to socialize; while mostly I just tolerate other people. I enjoy quiet and prefer spending time alone. She’s totally heterosexual & I’m completely asexual.

In my blog, I’ve changed the names of those with whom my experiences were negative, including my step-mother. I’ve teased Rose that if we ever having a falling out, she’s going to turn up here as “Violet.” However, I can’t imagine ever doing that!

If they made a TV show based upon her life, it would be titled: EVERYBODY LOVES ROSE. If they made one based on mine, it would be: NO ONE CAN STAND DIANNE. Nobody except Rose, that is!

But then, Rose is a phenomenon. She can plan and book a trip over the Internet as easily she can master a business meeting, or prepare a gourmet meal. She is THAT amazing! I can’t imagine why she would even want to know someone like me! Between us, she is clearly the full-fledged adult. Also she is my first friend who is younger!

Rose successfully raised 3 younger brothers while both parents worked. I had 3 parents living under one roof, 2 of who became paranoid schizophrenics. My brother was my third parent due to the wide age gap between us. From my earliest memories, he towered over our mother. I never knew him as a boy.

Rose & I probably met for the first time eons ago on a distant planet.

In this life, we met a year after the passing of a long-time dear friend, my last one. Every person to whom I had ever been close, was dead. Now, I often refer to Rose as, “My last still breathing close friend.” This makes her even more precious.

Both of us are searching for a Third World place to retire. Time is quickly passing and before long, we will be leaving for Ecuador together on an exploratory visit. Rose being younger, can afford to take time making up her mind. I will be 65 next year and must decide faster.

A few years from now, I hope to find us living in the same part of the world. However, I must prepare myself for the possibility our future may not turn out that way. Unlike me, Rose has family here, as well as many long-time friends. Plus she can afford to be retired anywhere.

I know I’ll miss Rose more than she’ll miss me. But no matter what the outcome, despite any distance, we will stay friends throughout eternity.

SAFETY IS AN ILLUSION

Obscured by trees and thick under-growth for privacy, a dirt road and another neighborhood stand behind my house. As soon as the sun goes down, a street light brightly illuminates my back yard. A fire hydrant sits out front. I’ve always felt I live in one of the safer spots.

Sure, there have been break-ins and attempts in this neighborhood over the years, but as of yet, nothing major.

About 5 years ago, (my then) next door neighbor happened to be home at 9:30 AM. I on the other hand, who is almost always home, happened to be out that morning.

She watched from a back room as a strange man came up her walkway and rang her doorbell. Not expecting anyone, she didn’t go to the door, but kept a suspicious eye on him. The man walked around to the back of her house. This stranger was now at her back screen door trying to force it open!

Instantly, she grabbed her cell phone! She called her husband who worked at the Sherriff’s office. Still on the phone, she stepped out to where the would-be burglar could see her. In a flash, he took off running and jumped their wood fence in the back. Thru the foliage, she saw him hop into a waiting pick-up truck and speed off!

Within an hour, he was apprehended. A variety of stolen items were found inside his truck. Naturally the incident unnerved everyone in the neighborhood. To secure my house, I took even more preventative measures. Also I now grocery shop on different days & times to thwart thieves watching for patterns.

Awhile back, around 10:00 AM I was working on my computer when suddenly the doorbell rang in urgent rapid succession: ding-ding-ding-ding non-stop. I wondered who-the-hell would ring my bell that way! Surely it must be an emergency! Perhaps my house was on fire and a neighbor wanted to get me out immediately!

In a panic I rushed toward the door. As I reached for the lock, a voice inside my head screamed, “DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR!!!”

Instead, I crept up the stairs onto the landing and peeked down thru the blinds. A dark, scruffy, but muscular man stepped back from the door. I could see him in full view and he looked pissed! I could almost see steam emanating from him. His expression seemed to say, “Why didn’t that bitch open, I could hear her stirring about!”

I walked further up the stairs to the loft and peered out the top window looking to see what kind of vehicle he had. There was none! The street in front of my house was empty all down the North end. I hurried into my bedroom to view the South side from my big picture window. There was nothing in my driveway or anywhere on the street, not even the man!

I was fearful now that he might be out back trying to break in! I grabbed the baseball bat under my bed along with a can of wasp spray and hurried downstairs. I raced from window to window peering out. But the man had just vanished! I was relieved.

Perhaps that man was there for a legitimate reason, although I can’t imagine what it would be. I had never seen him before and I haven’t seen him since. And why did he find it necessary to ring my bell in that alarming fashion! My overwhelming vibe was that he intended to hurt me.

Others have warned how unsafe it’s going to be for me to live alone in a Third World country. I’m sure that is true! However, no place is safe.

THE PSYCHO KILLER DUCK

Rural Florida in the 1950’s was paradise to a small child, especially the place we found ourselves in 58! Dad had just landed his big job and we rented a sprawling house on 100 acres. It felt like our own private park! In front was a scenic lake filled with a flock of wild Mallard ducks.

The lake formed a lopsided figure 8 with one end significantly wider than the other. At the narrowest part was a little white bridge with cattails on each side. From there, we loved to fish.

Off to one side, surrounded and completely obscured by bamboo stalks was a small pond that flowed secretly into the wide end of the lake. Even the path leading to it was angled as to be hidden. Discovering it was a wondrous thrill for 7 years old me!

My grandfather had delightful plans for that pond. We hopped into his blue Desoto and rode across the rickety old bridge to Palm City. It’s hard to believe now, but back then that was the boonies!

We stopped at a farmer’s place, trampled thru mud until we came to a pen. My grandfather purchased 7 little, white, baby ducklings. The secret pond became their home. We purchased a trough & mash at the Stuart Feed Store. We mixed the mash with water and watched as feeding time became an event. They eagerly gobbled up the mash and quickly grew to full size.

I watched like a proud parent the first time they departed the little pond and swam out into the wide part of the lake quaking merrily all the way. Never, was there any contact between them and the wild ducks, not even a slight acknowledgement of each other.

It was easy for me to tell all the white ducks apart. I gave them names after Disney cartoon characters. They were: Daisy, Daffy, Huey, Duey, Louie, & the Professor. One was significantly larger than the others, (almost the size of a goose) as if he had been born with acromegaly, a condition which causes gigantism due to excess growth hormone. This one, I named Donald. 

Most of the ducks fled whenever I tried to touch them, except for Daisy & Donald. Daisy, the perfect lady duck always politely allowed me to pet her. Big Donald, would waddle right up to me for his petting and attention. For this reason, he was my favorite!

One sad morning, we found Huey’s body floating among the cattails. Shortly after the Professor washed up on shore, soon Louie followed. I took Daisy’s death particularly hard. Duey was next. We were disturbed and at a complete loss trying to figure out what was killing our ducks! We thought it might be some sort of disease.

One hot, sunny afternoon the mystery was solved. “It’s that big duck!” my grandfather hollered after Louie’s demise. “I just saw him do it! He jumps on their backs and pecks their heads down in the water until they drown.”

My father decided the big duck’s time was up, but not before Donald offed Daffy. Despite my protests and pleading, my dad loaded his rifle.

“There is no reason to kill him!” I argued. “He’s the only one left, now. He never goes near the wild ducks! They’ll be safe!”

“No, but he’s liable to come after me, next!” Dad replied.

With tears streaming down my face, I followed my father outside, still pleading with him to reconsider.

 

Donald was standing atop a planter. The first shot struck him in the neck and he toppled to the ground. I screamed at the top of my lungs! Dad finished him off with a shot to the head as I wailed loudly. 

My grandfather picked up the lifeless body and carried it out to the shed by the utility house. I followed. There, my mother & brother were waiting.

 

With one swift blow, Mom chopped off the limp head and tossed it to the ground. Busily, the two began plucking feathers. Still loudly sobbing, I retrieved 2 of Donald’s long, beautiful, white tail feathers from the ground to remember him by.

 

Next, I watched as they cut him open and removed his intestines. I was horrified by the process! My brother, who was in college, threw a handful of feces at my feet. “ Even dead, Donald’s still pooping,” he joked. I was NOT amused!

For several days, I saw Donald’s body every time I opened our freezer. It made me sick inside.

His 2 long, beautiful, white feathers only made me sadder. I gave them to my second grade teacher. Mrs. Lowry graciously accepted them. “I’ll wear these proudly in my hat when I go to church Sunday,” she declared.

Donald was served as the main course for Easter dinner. My family smacked their lips in relish as they gobbled him down. I refused to take one bite! And no one tried to force me. I wouldn’t even put his gravy on my mashed potatoes!

I don’t eat pets, period!