A Lifetime Defined by Meetings

What I actually told myself was, "I will never attend that meeting again with laryngitis, unable to talk."

What I meant was, "I will never attend another meeting -  if at all possible."

The same thing happened when I stopped taking classes of any kind. No more art classes, writing classes, cooking classes. No classes at all except for required continuing education classes. You saw me! You know how long I sat in Bible Study. Not twice but three times....one lesson each time.

When I settled in Tally my "new" friends, ladies my age, could not understand my adamant "not attending classes" rule. "Enough is enough," I explained.

How could I make them understand that I worked my way through college, then served as Professional Opticians of Florida chapter Educational Chairman every few years and, finally, attended three times the amount of CE classes than were required (when I was on the Board of Opticianry) in order to keep the quality of the education up - as well as studied and critiqued every proposed new class submitted by Opticianry educational providers for ten years running!

Hence, no classes since 2005 except for Tai Chi. Tai Chi isn't that kind of a class, anyway. Tai Chi is a moving meditation. And I don't really go that much.

Tai Chi, Thomasville Road

Now take out the meetings. Long time coming. My life has been a whirlwind of them for many years. Often with travel. Actually, more meetings than classes. A lifetime of meetings.

No classes. Now, no meetings. Let's just stay at home and live the good life. Use some of that stuff  learned going to all those classes in the time saved by not sitting at any more meetings!

From My Three Legged Stool: I Know What I Want It To Look Like

I used to have a pouting bench on my patio in Jacksonville. It was mostly used for pondering though. I've not been known to pout very much.

Now when anything in my life takes a lot of thought and planning, I mentally conjure up my three legged stool. It works well and the old bench itself has been restored and sits here in my foyer - a reminder that it's on its second life and that's a lot of pondering!


When I retired in 2005 a friend made a comment that I really took to heart. "Be sure you are retiring to something rather than from something." Simple and easy. And I was. I was retiring to a life of gardening and grandchildren, state parks and fishing trips, deer season and dove hunting, cooking and outdoor BBQ, the good Florida life.


You know me and you know that the plan failed. In the end, I needed to retire alone, to garden only for cooking herbs, to buy my fresh fish off the truck at Lake Ella, enjoy venison from other sources, no grilling, no huge bags of potting soil, no freshly picked veggies; no acreage, no chickens, no little goat. Thank goodness I still got to have Tom and Jack. I wish every day that they could see the life I had envisioned for them.


Sam's words still lingered. A quick learner, I realized that he was essentially correct. More than ever. I adopted the motto, " I now work for results and not money," and became a mini-me working for my favorite causes.


For going on five years I've championed Lighthouse, the Dining in the Dark Dinner, the Board of Opticianry, the HCC Foundation and many other, smaller and less permanent projects. I'm so glad I did it, too. I think it's called channeling one's energy, using one's talents, You can survive better if you're not thinking only of yourself.


But, I was sick all summer. Bad reactions to medicines, Lupus scares, lots of testing and blood work, lowered immune system, dental implants that can and will get infected if I blink, colds that morph into laryngitis, sinusitis, bronchitis and try to stay forever. I cracked my ribs, coughing. How can you go to a manicure, a Church service, a meeting, a party, coughing? Cough, cough, cough.

Since my own bedroom is like a huge study, library, entertainment center, I usually sleep in my guestroom. One can get a very good night's rest! It's a small room but cheerful with only a radio for NPR and my Kindle. This is where I spent almost every day last week. I was trying to take such good care of the cold that it wouldn't become something worse. I failed.

So there I was; sleeping, having soup and saltines, coughing. I started thinking about my plans for the "new" retirement that I started developing last summer. Most of it was already in the works. So I conjured it up, for the billionth time, in my mind. It hasn't got too much to do with good works. It isn't volunteer based. I wouldn't call it an altruistic plan.  It's actually mostly about friends and family, pets, church, reading and writing, and feeling good!

And that is how it was that yesterday I slipped out of the blue bed in the guest room and into a new world of total retirement. It only took one last email.  Now I need to rest until I can get my voice back. Polish my smile! Buy a pair of jeans! I don't think I'm retiring "to" anything at all this time, Sam. At least it can't be labeled.  But I know what I want it to look like.

Dreaming of Halloween

I woke up from the dream early, flailing, couldn't breathe, coughing. Just 6:30 and chilly. For three nights I have dreamed that every time I cough, an Internet site has appeared advertising medicine, soup, cool drinks of water. But if I try to access any of them, McAfee informs me that safety is an issue and blocks them.

This last dream was different. Facebook was offering only the sick (they know who we are) fully finished and Halloween-decorated pages that would last one day. We wouldn't have to post a seasonal picture, write a witty message, or even say Happy Birthday to our friends. All would be done for us because we did not feel well enough to manage it. Every time a new cough came, another example of a Halloween page floated by.

One such page had a picture of Wayne dressed as the vampire for Halloween. The year he scared all the children including his own niece and made the little ones cry. Another page highlighted Squirrel and our ceramic pumpkin. Once, Corey was dressed as the mummy and I was in my Gypsy costume. I wanted to choose that one so I could stop dreaming. It had actually been a foggy night and the mummy crepe paper was coming undone in a foreboding way.

The coughing was so steady, though, that I couldn't move fast enough to order my page. In the dream all I had to do was hit Amazon One-Click to download but another sample was flashing in front of me before I could move. Once, the profile picture was me in my balloon-woman costume wearing my beret, my Monet quilted T-shirt from the '60's, my acrylic cat-eye glasses, and holding on to my many balloons. And on and on and on.

I'm up now. Next, shower. Then I need to go out for more soup, more water, more honey. A lemon. Finally, rest. Happy Halloween. No dreaming!

...coughing, coughing, coughing...kitty prays.

I get this cold at least once a year, sometimes twice. It always lasts two weeks and turns into something bronchial or sinus related. Today, day 5, I took to my bed.

While I was sitting upright and propped on pillows, I pulled my positive reinforcement repertoire out of my head and chose one of my favorites. First I relax all of my muscles and picture myself in a sunny, restful place that I have really been. Today, I went down to my chair on my old dock in Jacksonville. I smiled. Not very far to go.

As usual, in this particular version, the white blood cells were on the move. A whole battalion was cleaning out the stuffy bronchi. Part of the Calvary had marched against invaders from the throat. Some Infantry were soaking those passages in honey and lemon juice and rounding up the vitamin C volunteers as they seemed to have deserted the operation.

I fell asleep. In my dream, Jesus was carrying a tall ladder from place to place inside my body and seemed to be holding an inspection of some kind. "Has she been praying?" This to the Commander. "No Sir, not yet," the man answered. "But that cat of hers started yesterday!"

Family, At Breakfast, is What You Make It

I didn't have time to get to the cameras. I grabbed the phone but even then, too late. It had been the perfect photo-op. My family at breakfast!

The rain? Stopped. The sun not out either.  Several doe had jumped the fence and were munching on the fallen acorns. The wild squirrels and the birds were up at arms. Squawking. Screeching.

I could hear them from the kitchen where my coffee was dripping, egg boiling, muffin toasting. I've learned in these four years to recognize the racket caused by the deer and to differentiate it from the mild chatter which only means rabbits munching blackberries.

So out to the porch I go with plate and cup filled to the brim. Telephone in pocket. One more trip to bring out Squirrel's salad and bath water. Belle eats in the house. She gets her bowl early, while I am fixing everything else.

The three of us were watching the deer. The wild squirrel who has a nest in the closest tree was on the outside of the screen, watching too. He wants so badly to come inside and live the good life. Yet, he's like the black and white kitten who visits. A dear friend; not family.

I put the bowls in place and reached to the screen to pat the wild squirrel's belly. Suddenly, Squirrel was out her door and up on the cat rest from which Belle was watching the deer. The does can jump over the fence with no running start at all and that's what they did. Belle turned to look at me.

Suddenly, Squirrel was up there with her, looking her in the eye. The kiss happened so quickly. Belle was amazed. Those two always touch noses in the morning through the cage screening. But this!!!


A squirrel kissing a house cat good morning? With a wild squirrel looking on, wishing it was him?

Things are back to normal. Belle is sleeping on "her" chair. Squirrel has had a bath and has covered her leftovers with a child's cloth ABC building block. You know the ones. The deer are deep into the copse by now, full of acorns. Wild squirrel is digging around in the flower bed, peevish it seems to me.

I drank more coffee than necessary. 100% Kona. Perfect for a morning like this. I love my family. Never think of me and wonder how I can be so happy living here alone. There's no such thing as alone. Not here, anyway.  

From My Three Legged Stool: Bible Study: A Dilemma Solved

There has been plenty of Bible in my life. I'm the girl who always won a brand new zipper Bible, King James, at Vacation Bible School by memorizing the most verses. When I was older, I wrote a short essay about the book of Job and won a white New Testament. It was first prize. That is the reason that, no matter what translation you are reading to me, my mind is busy converting the verses into the language of my childhood memorization.

I studied Early English Literature in college and for many years (until the powers-that-be revised the pronunciation that I had learned) I read King James 1611 aloud almost every day, loving the sound of it.  I also studied Religion 101, Bible as Literature, and Biblical History. That was a long time ago. Yet, even today, if I get into a conversation that intrigues me it all comes crashing back into my memory.

At five years old, I attended Catholic School. I left abruptly one day, shaking my head and telling Mother Superior, "Your religion confuses me." I had been going to the Methodist Church with Grandmother. Waiting, Sunday after Sunday, for the Holy Spirit to appear. I never saw Him, so....

...when we moved into our own home, I was raised a Southern Baptist. As a teen, I used to visit all the churches in Wilmington (NC) and I loved it. I went to the Methodist Church one evening every week because they were allowed to dance. My friend played oboe at the Presbyterian Church and I started going there for the music. My first boyfriend was Episcopalian. I fit perfectly on the Three Legged Stool.

When I moved to Jacksonville (FL) I worked downtown for fifteen years just a few blocks from St. Johns Cathedral. I had joined the Riverside Park Methodist Church but I rarely missed the lunchtime Wednesday Eucharist at St. Johns. I joined their book club for business women (1960's) which met at the YWCA across the street from my office. But I never had time for a Bible Study. For some reason, I always believed that I needed to study the Bible with a group - to gain perspective, I guess.

My second husband was no more of a church-goer than my first one had been. We were "nonparticipating"  Episcopalians who often visited my brother-in-law's Catholic Church. Corey went to Episcopal High. Sometimes we visited St. Paul's and  St. Paul's-by-the-Sea. We visited St. Johns and St. Andrews -  however intermittently.

I dreamed of a Bible Study Class.

When I retired to Tallahassee, I visited all churches regardless of denomination. I wanted to feel it and when I finally did, I landed at ( Episcopal, again)  Holy Comforter.  I made some friends, of course, and three of them attended a Bible Study every Wednesday morning. A large study. People all over the world studying the book of Isaiah at the very same time. For one year. Yes!

Of course I enrolled. Me among the Fundamentalists. But I had read an interesting article and had watched a compelling History Channel program and was excited to go! They asked everyone to go around the circle telling their name and why they had chosen to come. I answered when my turn came around.

How can the answer to "What brings you here today," be wrong? I was quiet the rest of the hour until it was my turn to critique the time we had spent in study. There had been no mention in the discussion that the idea of Law had begun right there in Isaiah and one of the most beautiful verses of the Old Testament (to me) had been omitted in the reading. I brought that up. No, no, no. A topic for the speaker in the next half hour. Not for me.

Needless to say, I found myself to be something other than a Fundamentalist (quoting the Bible out of context) that morning last summer. I never went back. But I've found another class. More to my taste, but still...the question was asked. "What brings you here today?"

We were in groups. I explained what brought me. "I want to study the Bible in fresh, modern translations along with a group of other people to see if either the new approach to the reading or the ideas of the others involved will give me a new perspective, a message I had heretofore missed, perhaps... enhance understanding." How can that answer be the wrong one? But the looks on the faces of my group said otherwise. Not good.

There was no lesson the second week. Week three, I appeared at the morning class instead of the evening one. "Sweet Jesus, let me fit in somewhere." I reverted...took my revised King James, determined to listen to the others without being distracted by the less than beautiful language of the newer translations. I believe that the King James Bible is some of the most wonderful literature ever written. Why spoil that? Why miss it? We understand. The English Language hasn't dumbed down that far that fast. You know it's true.

I don't want to second-guess God. Why He did, how He did, whether or not He did are not my concern. Maybe Bible Study is not for me. It's not that I feel that I should teach the class. I could never get my philosophy, my understanding across to the students. Maybe that's the thing. Whatever Bible Study means to this group just doesn't fit my needs...if I have needs....They are more like curiosity and a burning to know how we got to this place, at this time, in relationship to the Bible itself.

Caroline's Book Reviews

Again, let me read the books on the Bibliography list instead of the novel itself. Please don't distort history in an effort to make it your own invention. Write so that you may leave out the confessional after the last chapter! I discovered, there, that every little "great" bit of prose and even many the plot ideas came from somewhere or someone else. I enjoyed picturesque Ethiopia but found the thousands of medical references way too much. Take all of the abov...moreAgain, let me read the books on the Bibliography list instead of the novel itself. Please don't distort history in an effort to make it your own invention. Write so that you may leave out the confessional after the last chapter! I discovered, there, that every little "great" bit of prose and even many the plot ideas came from somewhere or someone else. I enjoyed picturesque Ethiopia but found the thousands of medical references way too much. Take all of the above out of the book and you have a short coming-of-age story about a set of twins, heads separated at birth, their lives as half-Indian expats in Africa, and about love and sacrifice, misunderstanding and miscommunication.

September 12, 2011. The Harvest Moon over Lake Petty Gulf

Looking to the East

Sometimes the East side (front) of my house is a complete mystery to me. It comes from living on the patio and on the porch facing West. Tonight while I waited for the moon to rise over the trees I tried to take it all in. Dozens of sleek, beautiful bats were in the air circling the cul-de-sac. The true beauty of the moonlight through the woods could not be captured with Nikon or Canon.

In Jacksonville, I had moonrise over the intracoastal waterway at the appointed hour. Here, one waits. Such a mass of trees blocking the way of the moonbeams. The deer sauntered through. In fact, they hustled.

A lady was walking her dog and (believe this) her cat in the gloom. The does were spooked and so was I. "Your cat walks too?" I looked down at Belle sitting on my feet. She is unused to even being outside in the dark. "Yes," the woman never looked at me - the three of them making haste away from the white tails who were edging into the trees.

The flying squirrels began murmuring their nightly chants. Some little rain frogs started up. Very noisy looking East. Belle got up and stood by the front door. My big chance finally came and I got a shot of the craters and crags on the old harvest moon. But I like this photo too. The one of the moonbeams whacking through the forest to fill my rooms tonight with natural light.

Review of Death and the Maiden by

I thought it would be fun to read a book with a blind hero, lots of music appreciation, and a good mystery. That would be one star for each category and a fourth if the story was compelling.

I rated Death and the Maiden two stars for music commentary alone. Elias's knowledge and interpretation of Schubert's work of the same name was enjoyable and rewarding.

I liked the idea of Jacobus, my age and blind with a remarkable concert violinist career behind him, but found his character contrived and not very believable. Why must the 70 year old age group be portrayed as less than remarkable in personality, forever grumpy, secretly worried about and dreading the future, and unfriendly to a fault? It isn't funny and it didn't ring true to me.

The members of the fictional New Magini String Quartet were less than lukewarm. And of course, a blind man must have a side-kick. There was so much opportunity for remarkable writing here. Instead, the author went awry presenting what he must have thought of as other kinds of food for thought.

The Peruvian detective was more or less developed. There was some fun there. I wondered why the reader or Jacobus needed a back-up sleuth, on top of the proverbial and ever-present chief of detectives, but Oro would have made a fine main character. Perhaps another mystery series?

The Russian conversations, toasts, and antics were fun but didn't add to the story like a little good plot-related action might have.

As for the mystery itself, I couldn't get into it. I hate for the work to hinge on explanations that were presented poorly in the plot. I, the reader had no suspects, unnteresting clues, no action, no exciting turns and twists, and in short, nothing invested. I never even got my head around it.           

Welcome! Retirement Living Petty Gulf Style!

Visit me here at Lake Petty Gulf! Something is going on all the time, whether it be in the kitchen, the garden, the photo lab, the exercise room, or on the bookshelf. It could be as simple as music...as complicated as a healthy new bread to bake.

Lake Petty Gulf Lifestyle is all about GOOD RESULTS for happy and healthy retirement living! Staying always in the moment, there is no other time, but right now, to insure that life is a best-quality, most-interesting, and completely rewarding experience.

I will be featuring book reviews and sharing lots of samples of what I am busy writing myself. I want to show you some pictures of my retirement life in Tallahassee, tell you about my grandchildren, and introduce you to my pets.

Together, we can develop some recipes for the good life (low fat and local produce) and have a lot of fun doing it. Cooking and eating well are a whole different ballgame for the retirement group. I want to drag out that cookbook I've been developing and share it with you.

I'll take you on an adventure with me this winter while we photograph and write about the historic churches of Tallahassee. It was in my summer plan but I'm glad that I waited until now to get started.

When I'm on my soapbox, I'll warn you in advance by entitling those posts My Three Legged Stool. Original works will be featured under the headings of  Caroline's Notebook or CallieSlide Writes! If a poem falls out of my head, I'll just throw it into the pot unannounced.

Tell you what! I'll just get started and we'll see what we can see. Maybe I can enrich your retirement, give you some ideas, or help you plan for the near or even distant future. Five years into this lovely state of living and I still feel like a kid who went into an ice cream store and found so much to choose from that she is still savoring something new - every single day.