All posts in category Stuff I Go Through

An American in Scotland

While the guys were golfing in St Andrews, there was shopping to be done. If I were a fan of using alliteration in my writing, I would say that St Andrews is simply adorable, so consider it said. The University of St Andrews is at the heart of the town, and it was graduation time while we were there, which elevated the charming level.

The town was a hub of activity, but Dacia (my daughter-in-law) and I managed to find a cute spot for lunch. It’s a good thing we got seated before noon, because a line quickly formed as we ate our salads. Are you aware of the reputation of Scottish food?  I’ll just say that you don’t go there for the cuisine. One can only eat so much haggis, and for me that was very little. I felt obligated to try it – I was in Scotland, after all, but one bite was enough. Sheep internal organs mixed with fillers to disguise what you are eating was not for me. We decided to have salads with grilled chicken for a change.

When we finished eating we made sure to use the facilities (i.e. toilet) before leaving the restaurant. It can be challenging to find a toilet over there, and a lot of places want you to pay. Therefore, we tried never to miss an opportunity when it presented itself. And this one made quite the presentation.

Here in the states, we have lots of room, especially the further west you go. But in Europe, space is at a premium. That is why this toilet is nothing short of brilliant. The toilet stall itself was about twice the size of a phone booth, and when I sat down, I was greeted by my reflection in a mirror (from the shoulders up). On the lower section of the mirror were written the words, “You’re looking good!” It was efficient use of space and a reassuring statement. I could make sure I didn’t have spinach in my teeth; therefore, literally doing two things at once. When I stood up, I had only to turn around to wash my hands on the sink that was part of the top of the toilet tank. There was an air dryer to the right of it. The perfect marriage of efficiency and weirdness. I loved it.

We were ready to visit some shops and spy out the graduates as they walked down the street with beaming faces.

I loved watching the graduates in their caps and gowns and sometimes kilts. Not to be confused with not wearing pants or kilts, of course. Everyone was decent! It wasn’t like that famous Braveheart scene which we can all recall.

Speaking of that scene, I had the best time with a couple, probably near retirement age, who owned a sweet little shop in St Andrews. I found the people in Scotland very friendly but none more than this couple. At first, I didn’t recognize him as the owner. He looked like he was getting ready to stock a shelf as he had a box of goods in his hand. I turned a corner, and we ended up facing each other. I offered that he should go first as he was getting paid to be there and I was merely shopping.

“Oh, nay,” he said. “I don’t get paid to work here.”

“Then you must be the owner,” I replied as he made his way behind the counter.

As I put my purchases on the counter, I figured his wife was the lady sitting on a stool in the corner. She was smiling at me and listening to the conversation. This is where Braveheart comes in. There is much souvenir merchandise devoted to that famous mooning scene on the battlefront of the epic movie. I had seen it on aprons, mugs, and at that moment emblazoned on the stack of coasters that was sitting by the cash register. Men in kilts mooning aka Braveheart is quite an industry.

I picked up a coaster and said, “But you must make a fortune from the residuals from these!”

At this point his wife broke into laughter and he smiled that friendly Scottish smile that without a word acknowledged that what I said was true – he had a secret life as a kilt model. He thanked me for my business, and after a few more laughs and comments, we were on our way.

The goods on display for sale had me reminding myself that the month was June. Evidently they don’t have much summer in Scotland.

I wasn’t in Orlando anymore!

After returning home, my old friend, Diane, reminded me that I had put in some time wearing a kilt. I had completely forgotten my time as part of a Job’s Daughters (teenage girls’ part of Masonic organization) drill team. I had been the captain for a couple years, and I loved it. The captain barked out the commands and guided the team through maneuvers in competitions and also in a few parades. I’m including a picture here to end this post. Yep, we weren’t exactly holding to the letter of the Scottish kilt law, if there is such a thing, but we did have a good time.

15-year-old me on my knees in the front with my co-captain, Gayle, to my left. Diane on front row far right by our coach. I spent a lot of wonderful time with these girls. Sweet memories.

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by Bonnie Anderson on July 11, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Europe, People that I Meet, shopping, Stuff I Go Through, Travel
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on July 11, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/07/11/an-american-in-scotland/

We’ll Leave a Light on For You!

Bob and I returned from Scotland last week. (I’ll tell you about that trip next time.) Of course, I was jetlagged. I’m not sure I fully recovered from being jetlagged after arriving in Scotland. That wasn’t aided by getting a cold midway through our trip or by having a bout of food poisoning while there. (That is what I get for choosing to go healthy and ordering the fish.) I slept through most of two days, but it was cloudy and drizzly, and since Bob was out golfing, it was okay with me. Other than that, it was a good trip!

Somewhere in the middle of my first night home, I thought about Tom Bodett. He had a pleasant voice and for years was the spokesman for Motel 6. His famous, “We’ll leave a light on for you,” sounded welcoming, like happy expectations of family coming to visit. Thinking about him would be weird in and of itself. But on that first night home, the lamp on my nightstand kept turning on with no prompt from me. It wasn’t too accommodating about me turning it off either. My gentle touch was turning into temptation to throw said lamp across the room, but I wouldn’t do that because I’m a mature adult.

This isn’t a new phenomenon. We bought two of these lamps a couple of years ago. We wanted touch-control lamps by our bedsides so we wouldn’t strain ourselves reaching halfway up the lamp for a switch. We also liked that they had USB ports for charging our phones. It was like being in a nice hotel (not a Motel 6).

Since being in Scotland, I had grown accustomed to late sunsets (after 10 PM) and early sunrises (around 4:30). But that did not prepare me for having a light repeatedly shone in my eyes from ten inches away.

The next morning, I said to Bob, “My stupid lamp came on four times last night!”

He replied, “Make that five times. Once you were so out of it, I had to walk around the bed to turn the lamp off.”

This can be what happens when you value an Amazon bargain too much. You don’t get what you bargained for! As soon as my energy returns and I know what time zone I’m in, I’m heading to Home Goods to do a little lamp shopping. I think this time the touch control won’t be as important as having the lamp under my control. Also, if you’re in the market for some prankster lamps, they’ll be by the curb on Friday.

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by Bonnie Anderson on June 27, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in shopping, Stuff I Go Through, Travel
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on June 27, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/06/27/well-leave-a-light-on-for-you/

Superpowers, Vampires, Jesus

With temperatures hovering in the upper 90s for most of the month, this was the hottest May ever in Orlando. It felt like a sauna as the humidity has been hiding over the Atlantic or the Gulf. I’m sure it will get here soon – no worries. I do enjoy the anomaly of heat plus low humidity, but not so much this year as I have been forced to stay inside.

A spider bit me, and to my dismay I did not get superpowers.

Stupid spider!

What I did get was a staph infection. Today is Day 19 on antibiotics. This is one of the tetracycline varieties, which comes with a warning to stay out of the sun. So, instead of gaining superpowers, it’s more like I have become a vampire. A simple trip to the mailbox and I fear I could burst into flames.

Bob and I had a beach weekend with friends last weekend. I should say that Bob had a beach weekend while I had a stay in a condo by the beach. I did venture down for a short trip to dip my toes in the ocean. I used half a bottle of sunscreen SPF70 and wore a shirt over my swimsuit. I also had on a hat that covered my neck and stayed under an umbrella 98 percent of the time. It is entirely possible that I am whiter than before I went, but time with friends was worth it.

We did an afternoon boat trip along the Indian River looking for dolphins. We saw lots of them plus a bald eagle. Dolphins don’t pose for photos, but here’s proof one was out there:

There were two small islands crowded with pelicans and herons.

The boat was covered, so no spontaneous combustion from me. It was lovely to be outside! So, that’s what’s been going on with me. The situation has given me plenty of inside time to blog about our Italy/Switzerland trip – so that’s a positive. I’ll finish that up in the next week.

I’m praying that this will go away before Bob and I set out on our next adventure – a golf trip to Scotland with our son and his family, which starts in less than a week.

I will not be golfing, but that has nothing to do with staying out of the sun. It has everything to do with the fact that I am very unathletic. I’d say at least I won’t get hurt since I won’t be exerting myself, but if a spider can take me down, well, what else can I say? Thankfully, I’m in no pain, but prayers for complete healing for this weird thing would be appreciated.

And speaking of prayer, I was very convicted at church this morning of not asking for prayer. I was on an antibiotic, but that was not proving to have the healing power that I thought it might. I’m thankful that I know The God who heals, and he sent his Son Jesus to offer both healing and eternal life in Him. So, I asked for prayer at church, and I’m asking here again if you would please pray for me. Thanks!

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by Bonnie Anderson on June 3, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Faith, Florida Living, Friendship, Stuff I Go Through, weather
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on June 3, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/06/03/superpowers-vs-vampirism/

A Florentine Faux Pas – Fun in Florence

The night before we were to tour Florence, the six of our friends whom we were traveling with let us know that they were enjoying the VRBO so much that they decided to rest there the next day instead of taking our scheduled tours. Everyone was understandably tired, but Bob and I decided we weren’t that tired. This was an interesting part of our trip, as it revealed the level of friendship that we have with these folks. We can tell each other what we want or don’t want to do, and there are no offenses taken. It’s truly wonderful to have that kind of friendship.

The thought that I had to battle was that we possibly broke our friends. Had we been pushing too much? We all recognized going into this trip that Bob and I tend towards more aggressive touring – a FOMO (fear of missing out) mentality. Our friends enjoy a simpler, slower pace that allows more rest and taking in the ambience of the area. Both ways are fine, of course. It’s all what you want out of a trip or what you need any given day. Still, I was sad that they weren’t going to get to see Michaelangelo’s David and the city of Florence. They were fine with it, so we were, too. The next morning, off we went just the two of us.

Before I continue, here’s a teaser. Bob broke two laws on our trip to Florence – hence the Florentine faux pas. In my eyes both counts were totally understandable and fell into the category of doing what you must while observing the intent rather than the letter of the law. I’m thankful he didn’t have to go to Italian jail.

It should have been an hour’s drive, but the traffic was horrendous, so it was double that. As we inched into the city, we were thankful for our friends’ sake that they took a restful day at the VRBO. It was exhausting.

We had mapped our way to a parking garage, and even at the swift pace of about 2 mph, we missed the turn as it was blocked by a panel truck. It took 20 minutes to go back around the block. The light into the garage was green, but we could not activate the gate. There was no one there, so I walked down the ramp and I saw one open space. I reported back to Bob. Having no other way in or out, Bob was forced to back up the steep incline from the garage with me watching from the sidewalk above/behind him to avoid cyclists and pedestrians. There are people and bicycles everywhere in the city.

When I reached my vantage point up the hill, I looked down and noticed that Bob was no longer in the car. This would have been more troubling if I did not know my husband like I do. There was no one around here, and our trip had been twice as long as we reckoned, so I had a feeling that Bob was on the uncomfortable side after having drunk a Coke Zero on the way. When I saw him get back in the car, we were both relieved. We’ll call this Faux Pas Number 1.

We knew that he could not back up and get back on the road from whence we came. That left no choice but to back up and drive down the sidewalk. (Faux Pas Number 2). Have I mentioned that he was driving a standard transmission? He was a pro backing up that incline and turning and driving down the sidewalk like a sluggish Mario Andretti. I walked ahead of him to clear the way of any obstacles. “Aye yai yai.” (Excuse my Spanish!)

Upon our dismount from the sidewalk, an angel in an orange vest appeared. He flagged us down and showed us where to park. It was valet parking, so we handed over the rental car keys not really caring if we ever saw the car again. All of this made us a half an hour late for our appointment at the Galleria del’Accademia. We approached someone in the crowd who looked official, and he helped us to join the next tour. We were grateful.

Our tour guide, Glenda, was lovely. The highlight of the tour was everything by Michelangelo. There is something about walking down the corridor flanked with his unfinished sculptures, which he carved in the 1500s. Michelangelo described these as statues that were within blocks of marble. He claimed he would chip away at the marble to see what emerged. That is a splendid example of how a creative person thinks.

As fascinating and beautiful as all of that was, looking down to the end of the corridor and seeing the Statue of David meant beholding another level of Michelangelo’s artistic genius – a true masterpiece. David is surely the piece de resistance of the Galleria.

Besides seeing David, the main impetus for us to go back to Florence was going inside the duomo – Duomo di Firenze. Our last visit was on a Sunday, and you cannot go inside unless you are there for a service. As you can see by the pictures, the outside is stunning.

The dome is the largest brick dome ever made.

I was surprised at the simplicity of the interior of this Duomo. It is clearly magnificent on the outside, so I figured it would be quite ornate inside. I was wrong. While this duomo could never be described as humble, it was in comparison to the one in Siena.

I was fascinated by these lampstands. People would occasionally approach them and light a candle. It gave a warm glow, as you can see.

While we lingered inside waiting for the rain to stop, I saw a girl of around 12 years old, who was staring at her irritated eye in the bathroom mirror. I offered eyedrops, but she only spoke French. I was hesitant to try to convince her since she was not with her parents.

As Bob and I were going up the stairs to the main floor, she was in front of us. I warned Bob not to touch the hand railing as I was sure she had pink eye. Her parents greeted her at the top of the stairs, and she was quite distressed. I walked over to them and offered eyedrops. Her father was grateful and wanted me to put them in. I told them I wouldn’t touch her just have her open her eye wide and look up. I put a few drops in and handed her a tissue. I only share this because years ago while traveling with these same friends I had a terrible case of pink eye, so I am gun-shy when it comes to being around it. I thought it was cool of God to let me offer relief to someone who was suffering like I had.

The rain faded to a drizzle but with the temperatures dropping, we were not excited about getting wet. We headed for the nearest restaurant and were seated immediately. (Thankful, again.)

Note the restaurant began in 1882!

Our lovely meal began with a starter of bruschetta accompanied by a glass of Chianti, which was recommended by our guide Glenda as the go-to wine of the region. I had risotto with asparagus and salami – easily the best risotto I’ve ever tasted.

The sun came out as we ambled down the street, totally happy with a full tummy and the warmth of the wine as we faced a chill in the air. Bob and I absorbed as much of Florence as we could before going back to our friends in Siena. We were quite tired and happy to find our car right where we left it. That’s a good day.

All the rain earlier in the day brought a cold front which stayed for the remainder of our trip. We enjoyed another Siena sunset before settling in for the evening.
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by Bonnie Anderson on May 20, 2024  •  Permalink
Posted in Europe, Friendship, Stuff I Go Through, Travel
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on May 20, 2024

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2024/05/20/a-florentine-faux-pas-fun-in-florence/

When Things Don’t Stop

Sometimes when I’m having trouble shutting my brain down to go to sleep at the end of the day, I remind myself that it’s a good thing that my brain is working. I also question – if I shut it down, will I be able to start it back up? That, of course, sends my brain on rabbit trails of thought as it strives to stay awake and keep working. Does it not know that it continues to work while I sleep? Stupid brain.

The turning on and off of things (not including brains) is such a common-place event in our day-to-day life that we tend not to think much about it. Before the day has gotten into full swing, one has turned on and off several lights, coffee pots, toasters, computers, television sets, and truly I could go on and on.

Then when it’s time to leave the house, we get in the car and turn that on. Hopefully. Everyone has experienced the failure of a car to start now and again. Usually, a battery problem, which is easily remedied, but nonetheless an inconvenience to some degree.

One fine, sunny Saturday, my mother and I got in my car and turned it on without much of a thought that it would not respond to the pushing of the ignition button. I’ve had my little white (90 percent of all SUVs seem to be white) Ford Escape for nine years now, and it’s been very faithful save an inconvenient time when there were four of us with suitcases loaded into it and the battery failed. But I do not hold that against it.

This particular Saturday we ventured out to do some clothing shopping for Mom. Everything was as normal as normal can be. Until we got back into the car. I pressed the ignition button and the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. So many warnings that one would think the car could possibly just blow up. Surely, I couldn’t drive it.

Parking assist failure. See dealer. Antilock brake light was displayed. The brake light was on even though no emergency brake was in place. Then there was the light that indicated that either the tires would fail to grip the pavement and slide all over the road, or perhaps those two marks were the letter “z” indicating that the car had gone into a sort of automotive coma. There was also an indicator that the airbag might fail. My GPS system, too, was down.

I decided to test the car in the parking lot, so I drove around pumping the brakes to make sure they responded, which they did. It was a straight shot down SR 436 to my home, so we headed there. Mom could go in and I would figure out what to do – or better still, Bob would when he got home.

The trip home was uneventful except the power steering was tight and all the idiot lights were still on alert. I was relieved when I pulled into our garage. I stopped the car and pushed the ignition button to turn it off. Nothing. The car was happy running. I tried several times but to no avail. I had never heard of this sort of problem. I tried to pop my hatch to get Mom’s walker out, but that would not respond either. I opened the side doors, lowered the seats and dragged her walker out the door. Once Mom was inside, I called Bob.

It is my first impulse to call Bob when something breaks down. He is very mechanically inclined and can fix just about anything, but in this case, he was 45 minutes away playing golf. I did not expect him to come home or have a solution. Nevertheless, I interrupted his round with this strange report.

Obviously, he was unable to help. He asked the expected questions, for instance, did I have my foot on the brake? And, am I sure I pushed the ignition button all the way? I can’t fault him for asking the obvious; this was an unusual situation. That was all he had. That was all I had, too.

I called the dealer, and they told me to bring it down. I figured I might as well since it was running and all. On arrival a very tall service technician met me and sat inside my running car sideways. This guy had to be 6’6” and must not have wanted to bother moving my seat. He leaned down to the brake pedal and pushed it with one hand. His other hand he used to turn the car off. It worked. Just like it’s supposed to.

I looked at him and said, “Do you have any idea how annoying this is?”

He chuckled and went on to turn the car on and off several times with no issues. I said he must have some kind of magic touch or maybe the weird way he used his hand instead of his foot must have triggered a “control, alt, delete” situation and rebooted the whole system. Still, I made an appointment to have her looked at. Thankfully, the next appointment was five weeks out because my car has behaved perfectly ever since.

I, on the other hand, was a tad bit nervous to drive it for the first week or so. I definitely didn’t want to be stranded with my mom or take it far from home, so we used Bob’s car for those circumstances. One morning, I figured the car was fine. I wouldn’t allow it to get in my head, so I decided to use it to take Mom to an appointment.

Thoughtlessly, I walked into our garage with the key fob in my hand and simultaneously pressed the garage door opener and the button to open the car’s hatch to put her walker in. I knew right away that was a bad idea as somehow, I got the hatch jammed into the partially opened garage door and neither would move. This was perhaps the dumbest thing I have done in quite a while, so I brought Bob out to see my accomplishment.

I had already tried to force the hatch closed or open, but it was really jammed. The garage door would not respond either. At this rate, there was a good chance I would never leave the house again.

The redeeming moment came while Bob was looking at the mess I’d made. Suddenly, I figured out how to fix it. I got in the car, started it up (thankfully it started), and pulled forward, leaving the garage door free to move up and down. The hatch had only a small ding in the paint, which really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

It’s been almost two months now and no issues. My take-away: When weird stuff happens, and things don’t stop when you want them to, don’t continue doing the same unsuccessful thing. Try a different braking method. Stand on your head. Try using your left hand. Drive to see a professional. Or keep on keeping on until you run out of gas.

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by Bonnie Anderson on November 2, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Stuff I Go Through
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on November 2, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/11/02/when-things-dont-stop/

Retirement is all Well and Good until…

When I was young, I wanted my doctors to be older and wiser. For sure I did not want a young, good-looking male gynecologist. That would have been weird for me in those days of my youth. Now, I want my medical professionals to be young enough to see me through without retiring but a few years removed from medical school. The same goes for my hairdresser except for the med school part.

As a young married woman of 19, I did not know of a female ob/gyn in the field. Now, you can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a female doctor. See how things have changed! Plus, if you did swing a dead cat, you’d probably be in trouble with PETA, so I think I need a new saying.

As you may have gathered by now, I have recently had two people who have treated me with kindness and professionalism in their respective fields retire. The first was my gyn who has seen me through that lovely time of life which women go through and who was going through it at the same time. I tell you what – that was a match. At least it was until she went the way of so many people our age and retired. This field of medicine is not at the top of my needs list anymore, but nevertheless I am searching for a new practitioner. Sigh. At least this time there are plenty of women doctors from whom to choose.

Finding a new hairdresser after nearly 30 years with the same talented woman is a bit more daunting. No one other than Teya has cut my hair in all that time. Once during COVID I was forced to get my color touch-up from another when Teya had COVID. Bob and I were going to his 50th high school reunion. You don’t want your roots showing at that event – that’s for sure. You either want to be full-on gray or colored – none of that awkward in-between stuff. Having a stranger’s hands in my hair was weird for me. I felt a bit like I was cheating on Teya, but I had no choice (other than go with my roots showing or covering them up with a temporary fix or not going – other than those three things, I had no choice).

I sent this picture to Teya to show her the weird day I was having without her.

So, when it was time to find a new hairdresser, I was more than a little nervous. I asked myself if perhaps now was the time to go gray (now referred to as natural) and let my locks just keep on growing – maybe embrace my inner hippy who seemed to disappear somewhere after having my fourth child. But, alas, vanity said, “No!” I like my “natural” look and will likely continue it as long as it’s in the budget.

Before I found Teya, I had some bad experiences such as a person who was getting ready to cut my hair asking the stylist next to her, “What would you do with this?” I should have run out of there, but I was young. Also, I had often asked myself the same question about my curly hair. I was taken back but too timid to stand up for myself at that point.

I also had been overprocessed from highlights to the point that when I look back at those pictures, I wonder what I was thinking, but I digress. Teya had rescued my abused hair and introduced me to the wonderful, though expensive, world of “products.” She was experienced and not intimidated at all by my thick, curly hair. I think she was happy to perform her magic on me. The before and after can be quite satisfying.

So, when she told me she was retiring and moving away (she is so good that I’m sure several of us clients would have shown up on her doorstep if she hadn’t), I cried. Not only was I losing an amazing hairdresser, but I was losing a friend and a way of life that I enjoyed and in which I found myself quite comfortable.

Comfort. What a beautiful word! One can comfort another in times of difficulties and loss. And one receives comfort in like manner from those in our family and communities, and at times even from the perfect stranger. If there is such a thing as a perfect anything, a stranger who offers you comfort would fill that bill. But once again, I digress.

My roots were beginning to make an appearance and I knew it was time to jump into the pool of hairdressers and find a new one. You might not think it was a struggle, but it was. I like the familiar and I’m not a fan of the unknown. Even though it can bring new joys and friendships, it also might bring a bad haircut.

One morning before church, I spotted my friend’s granddaughter, Kate, who is a hairdresser. I’ve known her since she was born and she has been working for a few years, so she fits two of my qualifications – she would not likely retire before I die, and she has been working for a few years.

I approached her and began my lament. I used so many words; it was ridiculous. I told her my story and I told her my fears. I told her I was concerned that if I went to someone I know and was not happy with my results, I would feel awful not returning. I would probably have to move or something just to spare her the rejection. I could feel myself beginning to tear up. I fought back the tears – I think successfully. I acquired her phone number and said I’d call for an appointment. I’m pretty sure I also scared her to death. I’m surprised she didn’t change her phone number, but she was gracious.

Two weeks later I was sitting in her studio – a trendy, comfortable studio for one. It was so cute and inviting – just like Kate. I had given Kate my “formula” and she went above and beyond by ordering the exact color products that Teya had used. That scored major points with me. Plus, she is ten minutes from my house in Altamonte Springs, Florida.

As I sat down, with my hair literally in a new stylist’s hands, I was nervous, but I think Kate was more. She didn’t really show it, but later as I talked with my friend/her grandmother, she let it slip. I haven’t let her cut my hair yet, so the jury is still out, but if her ability with color and her sweet personality are indicators, I think she may be stuck with me unless she retires and moves away. Poor Kate!

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by Bonnie Anderson on October 19, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in aging, Stuff I Go Through
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on October 19, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/10/19/retirement-is-all-well-and-good-until/

Why Can’t I Whistle?

Oh, the hours that I have spent contemplating my lack of whistling ability! Oh, the lamenting!

I have literally spent no time grieving over this. Why bother? I have resolved that I missed the whistle gene, and that’s okay. Except for birding…

I would love to whistle like the songbirds that visit my feeder, but long ago I ditched that thought. I can do a decent barred owl, but that doesn’t involve whistling. My red-shouldered hawk is not too shabby, but that’s only because it’s more like a shriek – that I can do.

That is the backstory to help you understand the challenges a recent gift has afforded me. For my birthday last month, my son, Joe, gave me a book and asked if I would like to read it together. Joe likes birds like I do, so he thought of me when he discovered Conversations with Birds – The Metaphysics of Bird and Human Communication by Alan Powers.

It may be helpful for you to know that Joe is a philosophy professor. I told Joe that I loved the idea. The title had something for me – conversations with birds, and something for him – metaphysics.

It is a running joke with me, myself, and I that I cannot understand the true meaning of the word metaphysics. I asked Joe if, after finishing this book, would that change. He was confident that it would not. He gets me.

We plunged in. Our first goal was to go through chapters one and two. Chapter One is Basic Bird, with a minor emphasis on the mourning dove. Chapter Two gets down to business – The Year of the Oriole. That is ironic since the baseball team of the same name, which is my team, is having their best year in recent history, a fact that I mentioned to Joe and one of the ways that I seem to stray off topic.

Joe is good at stretching me, so I was prepared to look up words as I read. I was not prepared for the number of musical terms the author uses. And I was taken aback on Page One when he stated, “Now we advance to whistling. Start with the minor third, usually descending, like the first two notes of our national anthem…”

I texted Joe with a reminder that I can’t whistle. This is something that hasn’t held me back in life and I wondered if it would hold me back as we read this book. As I said, I’m reconciled to the fact that I’m a non-whistler. He assured me that I would be fine.

Just in case, I googled “why can’t I whistle?”

Google excels at responding to simplicity in their searches. I was immediately linked to vox.com where on 8/13/15, Joseph Stromberg wrote an in-depth article including techniques to practice. In no time flat, I began to whistle. I won’t be entering any competitions. But, there is hope for this 67-year-old. Evidently you can teach an old older person a new trick.

You might be expecting me to share a video of me whistling. Well, don’t hold your breath. I’m pretty transparent with my writing, but at this point, I’m just a baby whistler!

I will share this video of a high-achieving whistler instead. Enjoy!

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by Bonnie Anderson on June 29, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Birding, Family, Stuff I Go Through
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on June 29, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/06/29/why-cant-i-whistle/

Relax

There’s nothing like a good massage, and this was nothing like a good massage. Okay, that may be a little harsh. It actually had all the elements of a massage, so there’s that. This was my first time at this particular spa, and I was looking forward to redeeming my Christmas present – an entire hour of stress reducing, muscle loosening relaxation just for me.

She asked the usual questions – problem areas, physical limitations, etc. Did I want essential oils? I said no to that. When I told her that I broke my shoulder a year ago and though it is fully recovered, if she should move my arm a certain way, I might wince, but no worries. I do that myself once in a while. I just didn’t want her to freak out if it happened.

That appeared to alarm her despite my insistence that I was fine. I thought about arm wrestling her to prove my point, but that seemed a bit much, and I didn’t want to cut into my hour.

Then I added, “You should know that I am at times prone to vertigo and a trigger for me is lying flat on my back. Elevating my head slightly helps. I’ve been asymptomatic lately, so that probably won’t happen either.”

She seemed to take this in stride, so much so that she asked if I wanted to start out on my back. Of course I said no, for what I thought was an obvious reason. Finally she left me alone to get situated on the table.

I climbed on and put my face in the cushion which allows you to breathe and not turn your neck, thus requiring additional massage to get the kinks out of that. I was immediately greeted with a musty odor. This was not going to do.

When she came in and I was lying there with my head sticking up like a turtle from its shell, I told her the issue. It turns out they keep their linens in a cabinet with essential oils. Now I had to explain to her in more detail that certain oils and fragrances dry out my eyes and give me headaches. She left in search of an unscented pillowcase and maybe a couple of Advil for herself.

When at last she returned and I settled in for my massage, I commented that by the time she finished with me perhaps she, too, would need a massage. She chuckled politely and got to work on me.

She started on my shoulders, which is my favorite place to hold tension. Every time she would rub them and move her hands up my neck, I heard a crinkle sound, kind of like somebody opening a bag of chips. It didn’t take long to realize that she was wearing gloves. Since she didn’t have a mask on, this was even more of an unwelcome surprise. It’s like getting a massage through a plastic bag. I had been asked if I wanted a male or female masseuse, but there were no questions regarding gloves or not.

My mind wandered to Sandy. Sandy is the woman who I would usually go to if I wanted a massage. She is half German matron and half physical therapist. She helped me so much when I was recovering from my shoulder injury. I missed Sandy. I kind of felt like I was cheating on her, and this was my punishment – being massaged through plastic-covered hands like a butcher would use to hand out deli meat, with just a hint of essential oils.

When I checked out and was asked how everything was, I told them about the crinkle. You might say I took the gloves off, but with kindness. They seemed to have no idea that there were gloved masseuses behind the lobby doors and rewarded me with a gift card for a discount off my next massage, which was very kind. I’m conflicted about using it though. I don’t think I can do that to Sandy. I’d just feel too guilty.

Maybe I’ll take a tip from Winnie the Pooh and try something altogether new to unwind.
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by Bonnie Anderson on April 13, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Stuff I Go Through
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on April 13, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/04/13/relax/

Just Dive In – A Hawaiian Adventure

Nearly eight years ago, we moved into our current house. I was most excited about having a pool in our yard. We’ve lived in Florida since 1976, so this was a big deal for me.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I remembered diving into a pool. It was better than easing your way in as you got used to the water all at once. I recall looking at that water and thinking – I don’t want to. The stairs are fine. The stairs are good. I didn’t need to plunge headfirst or plunge at all to get into the pool.

I wanted to try to dive, and eventually I talked myself into it. I was pretty proud of myself. It felt good to know that I could do it. I’ll always cherish that memory, especially because that was the last time I dived in or will ever dive in. And, cherish may be a strong word. Perhaps remember would suffice.

Now I ease on in like an old(er) lady, and I’m okay with that. I choose to act like an old(er) lady when it serves me, like getting a discount at the movies or a seat on a bus. Mostly, I try not to, but I’m in my sixties so sometimes it sneaks out.

One such time was last year during our Hawaii trip. We were staying along the Kona Coast of The Big Island, which is the perfect place to go night snorkeling to see manta rays. Manta rays can have a wingspan of 12-14 feet. Bob was all about seeing them, and I figured, why not? When would I ever have the opportunity again? I was excited and only a little apprehensive.

It had been awhile since I’d snorkeled from a boat and I knew I’d have to gracefully get in the water. I also knew that I’d have on fins and a mask, so graceful might not be an option. I did it, though. One of the great things about being older is that you realize that people pay a lot less attention to you than you think they do. That seemed to be the case that night as I jumped, or rather slid off the side of the boat, into the water.

Once in the water the six of us positioned ourselves around a sort of customized surfboard that was outfitted with lights that pointed into the water. We hung onto the sides by rope handles. Bob and I had on our ninja snorkel masks, which were perfect and give a panoramic view. There is nothing to hold in your mouth – you just breathe normally via the snorkel that is at the top of the full-face mask. I highly recommend them.

We were instructed to get in a Superman position – hands holding the rope, arms extended, with a pool noodle under our thighs to keep us afloat and out of the way of the feeding manta rays. They wouldn’t bite people, but they are big and could bump you.

It took no time at all before the lights attracted plankton, which, therefore, attracted the manta rays. From our viewpoint, we were looking into the mouth of the ray while it came from the depths to feed. They would filter out a mouthful of plankton and then do barrel rolls right below us. It was incredible for about 15 minutes until the rays moved on to another feeding area. No worries, though, we would move, too.

We were instructed to hold onto the handles while the boat dragged us several yards to another location. Picture this: The boat moves forward. People who were once perpendicular to the surfboard when it was relatively stationary tend to lose their perpendicularity and move closer to the surfboard. Of course, this is temporary, a mere few minutes, and if you do not have vertigo issues, it likely would not bother you.

I am not one of those people, so when we found the rays again, I was feeling a little unwell (to use a current term). I was able to hold it together and enjoy the antics of the rays, all the while reminding myself that it was only a 40 minute tour.

They were amazing to watch – so acrobatic, especially given their size. They had no fear of us and more than once one swam so close to me as to nearly brush my mask. Bob did have one touch his leg, but he was on the end of the row while I was in the middle. All in all, I’m so glad I did this. It’s worth doing once, if you’re me, or over and over again, if you’re Bob.

When our in-water guide told us it was time to get back on the boat, I was happy and relieved. Not only was I feeling a tad queasy, but this was the biggest workout I had given my shoulder since breaking it eight months earlier. Basically, I was weak and tired and ready to get on shore.

The captain had Bob get on the boat first. “Yea,” I thought, “I’ll be next.”

Not so. He went the other direction so that meant I got to hold on the longest. Isn’t that special?

Well, no, it was not. If you have read prior posts about this Hawaii trip, you’ll remember that Hawaii was wearing me out. This might have been the pinnacle of my exhaustion, but it was almost over. Everyone had gotten on the boat except me. Finally I put my hands on the ladder to climb in, but the rest of my body would not cooperate. I had no strength in my weak little arms to pull me in.

That’s when the captain said, “We have gotten too close to another group, everyone hold in place while I move the boat.”

What he meant was, “Hey, you slowing me down on the ladder, hang on while I move the boat.” I couldn’t believe my good fortune to have this extra little adventure tagged onto our trip! Thankfully the in-water guide was with me in case my strength gave out completely.

When at last he stopped the boat and said I could climb in, he was wrong, and very wrong. There was no way that I could climb in. I was on empty. The sweet young lady who was our in-water guide had to heave ho on my rear end to boost me up the ladder. This time, unlike my entry into the water, I’m certain everyone noticed; and I didn’t care.

These were the nicest people. Clearly Bob and I were decades older than all of them, but they didn’t make me feel old or injured or weak, just cared for. And a little embarrassed. But that’s okay.

Bob rented a GoPro for our adventure. When the trip was over they gave him a thumb drive that had our 40 minute excursion compressed down to about a minute and a half. He was able to capture a few stills for me. They are a poor representation of what we saw, but I hope you enjoy them.

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by Bonnie Anderson on March 30, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Animals, Stuff I Go Through, Travel
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on March 30, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/03/30/just-dive-in-a-hawaiian-adventure/

Have a Magical Day

In 1982 things around Orlando got a lot more magical and for sure more futuristic. That is the year the EPCOT opened.

I unearthed the proof of the best Disney deal I ever heard of when I went through my dad’s filing cabinets after he passed away in 2017. An unused pair of Keepsake Tickets to the EPCOT Center Adventure was tucked away safely and in mint condition. This ticket entitled the bearer to three-days in either EPCOT or the Magic Kingdom. They were the only two Disney parks back then. I remembered my dad buying them and I also remembered encouraging him to use them. Dad liked memorabilia, and he liked it much more than waiting in lines.

Their value was approximately the current price of a 3-day park-hopper. I tucked them away for safe keeping. Also in Dad’s files was a stack of unused A-D tickets. If you know what I’m talking about, then you will not be surprised that no E tickets were in the stack. Way back in the olden days of Disney, your ticket consisted of an entry ticket and tickets ranging from A to E. The A tickets were for a ride like It’s a Small World, while an example of an E ticket would be Space Mountain. These tickets were phased out in 1982.

Bob and I had planned on getting annual passes to Disney after he retired. We already had one, which Bob had won in a work raffle back in 2000 – it was made of paper and was more like a voucher. At that point, we still had four kids at home, all teenagers, so one free ticket was not going to get us far. We put it in a safe place, and quite remarkably remembered where that place was when we decided last November that it was time to cash in.

Since we’re locals, we went to Disney Springs Customer Service with our stacks of paper consisting of:

  • Two 40-year-old Keepsake Tickets to the EPCOT Center Adventure
  • One 22-year-old voucher for an annual pass
  • A small stack of A – D tickets from the 1970s, which we assumed would have no value

The perky, pleasant young lady who got us at customers had her work cut out for her. Disney doesn’t see a lot of paper tickets in our digital world. She remained undaunted for the hour and a half that it took to go through several binders to look up each thing we brought her.

The keepsake tickets were easy. Three days is three days – no matter that Disney has added two more parks since EPCOT opened. They did garner some attention though. Every employee wanted to see the artwork on the 40-year-old tickets, which were older than most of said employees. These tickets were transformed into three-day, no restriction park hoppers, which are no longer available to be bought.

The voucher for the annual pass was a little more challenging. I’ll spare you the many details of converting that to my Disney World Annual Pass – no blackout dates and parking included. They no longer sell this ticket either.

As for the small stack of A-D tickets, thank you, Dad, that you never threw anything away. These were worth $61. Amazing. Paper does keep value.

Thank you, Walt, for making good on old, unused tickets. Bob and I came away with an annual pass for me and a Florida Resident Pixie Dust pass for him, which can be used only on weekdays and has some blackout dates when we wouldn’t want to go there anyway. Our out-of-pocket was way lower than it could have been!

So, bring on the magic. We have been enjoying EPCOT, Animal Kingdom, and the Studios. I am a Star Wars fan, so the Studios is my favorite.

I especially wanted to see the Magic Kingdom at night before the 50th anniversary celebration ends, so last Thursday night, Bob and I went out to dinner and headed to Disney. We would enjoy the magic more accompanied by grandchildren, but for one night we just wanted to see the 8:15 Disney Enchantment, a 50th anniversary nighttime spectacular with fireworks and projection effects on Cinderella’s castle.

We had plenty of time. We boarded the monorail at 6:45. There was a glitch with the train ahead of us, so we sat and waited for a few minutes. We would be in place by 7:30.

Finally, we were on our way. The monorail stops in the Contemporary Resort before reaching the official entrance to the park. That is where we sat on the train for almost an hour before being forced to reverse and go back to where we started. As we left the train, the youthful Disney cast members said, “Have a magical day!”

Everyone on that train wanted to see those fireworks. We were told to take the ferry or a bus. I asked a cast member (employee) about the bus. He replied, “There are no buses available. You’ll have to use the ferry. Have a magical day!”

Bob and I were near the front of this mass of people heading to board a ferry. We could see that one had just left minutes before we got there. We could also hear screaming – blood-curdling screaming which cut through the night air like a knife. It was horrible. I thought maybe a child was throwing a tantrum, but when we got to the boarding point, an unfortunate woman was shrieking at the top of her lungs. Then she went quiet and passed out. Several cast members appeared and got the reluctant and now revived woman into a wheelchair and whooshed her away. I don’t think she was having a magical day.

As we boarded the ferry, we were told to, “Have a magical day!” I hope the traumatized little girl who watched all of this would have just that. Maybe the fireworks would take her mind off that poor woman who was so distraught.

It took several minutes to load the ferry. By now we knew we wouldn’t make it for the 8:15 start time, but we were able to lean over the railing of the boat and see some of the fireworks as we crossed the lagoon. We disembarked at 8:25 to wishes for us to “Have a magical day.”

If you’ve been to the Magic Kingdom before, you know that when you get to this point, you have not yet gone through the entry to the park. We got in line as fireworks continued to burst through the air just out of our sight. Trouble again, we did not have a reservation. We were under the impression that we did not need one after 2 PM, but that perk doesn’t start until next month. A helpful cast member waved her wand and got us through. She also said, “Have a magical day!”

We finally got to the main street looking up at the castle at 8:35, just in time for the finale. For us it wasn’t a big deal as we live here, but I felt bad for the folks who had one shot at seeing it. It looked fantastic and we will go see it soon when our grandchildren are down. We will arrive hours ahead of time and we’ll take the ferry.

Our magic wasn’t over. We weren’t going through all of this for two-minutes of fireworks. It had been ages since we were in the Kingdom so we headed upstream to Tomorrowland like salmon fighting the current of people exiting the park.

Monsters Inc. is a great show – very funny. I highly recommend it. Next we went on the Tomorrowland Transit Authority PeopleMover for an overhead view of the land. The moveable inclined sidewalk (think escalator with no steps) was not working, so we had to walk up this squishy walkway to get on the ride that was also delayed a little because of a technical issue. It wasn’t too bad though, and we were wished a magical day.

We figured we had one more ride in us, so why not check out the Carousel of Progress and see how they’ve updated it. We got inside and the first stage greeted us. At that point a song is supposed to come on and the audience becomes a carousel ride to the next (stage) point of progress. We just sat there in the dark as a cast member told us in a muffled voice that there was a problem. I’m not sure she said for us to have a magical day, but I’ll bet she did.

Finally the lights came on and the floor abruptly shifted left and right, then the lights went off and the ride began again. This time there were no problems, but I have to say, it didn’t feel very magical.

By then the crowds were thinned and we could stroll through the castle and enjoy some of the 50th anniversary decorations. It was approaching 11:00 as we left and one more time, were told to “Have a magical day.”

It struck me so funny that we heard this time after time on a day when everything was more malfunctional than magical. That’s when the magic began for me. Finding humor always does it.

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by Bonnie Anderson on March 3, 2023  •  Permalink
Posted in Florida Living, Stuff I Go Through, theme parks
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Posted by Bonnie Anderson on March 3, 2023

https://lifeonthelighterside.com/2023/03/03/have-a-magical-day/

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