Wordless Wednesday…with some words…

I like wordless Wednesdays. It gives me a chance to show off some pictures that I have cramming up my phone. Let’s see, since you’ve already seen the grandbabies this week, let me think of some other pictures. Hmmm…

How about the one where I caught crabs at the beach house shelter during our recent evacuation?

I could show you the lengths we went to, to assure a decent meal for the evacuees:

Oh! I did want to share a picture for my friend Dawn over at Lighten Up who, because of the damned derecho, did not get to see “Magic Mike” and all the hot, naked, young things. Here you go, Dawn, some hot naked things:

Wait a minute!!
That’s not hot. I’m so sorry. That’s not the picture I had in mind. Here you go:

Now we’re talkin! These guys are hot!!

It wouldn’t be a true picture sharing Wordless Wednesday without the requisite shot, or three, of the dogs:

  
It is so tough being an evacuee.

 

Well, I gotta tell you. Yesterday, after posting about the dead bird, there was one person in my mind who I knew would be the one to ask to see the pictures. I was right, of course.

For my friend in Boston, you are called Twisted Susan for a reason…here you go:

I know, right? EEEWWW!

Happy Wednesday, everyone!!

Did you ever have one of those days?

You know the kind. The one where you’re outside on a day that is (finally) not hot enough to melt steel, watering your half-dead tomato plants and refilling your birdfeeders. Listening to the pleasant chirping of the birds in the trees while scooping the seed to top off the feeder that is half full, you notice a little something sticking out of one of the holes in the bottom of the feeder. It looks like a couple of feathers.

At the exact same moment that you wonder why feathers would be sticking out of the birdfeeder, you realize that it could possibly be that a bird crawled into the birdfeeder. So you tug gently, hoping, hoping, hoping that a feather just landed there. Nope, there’s resistance. You holler EEWW and take down the birdfeeder, heading to the trashcan to dump out the seed and the sad little bird remains. As you get there, you realize you don’t want to just dump it in the trashcan for fear the little corpse would hit the garbage man on the head, and spray him with seed as he empties the trash, and although you’d set the alarm to see that on Thursday morning, you realize that is not the thing to do. Besides, you don’t want to see the tiny carcass, you just want to knock it out of the feeder, hose it off and get back to the business of feeding the birds.

You decide to dump everything, seed and stiff, into the lined trashcan sitting next to the grill. You close your eyes and turn it upside down. Seed pours out, and you check to see if the little cadaver is lying in the trashcan. No. You glance back into the feeder and there it is. Stuck. A perfectly preserved little bird, wings outstretched and very dead. Stuck. No matter the shaking, tapping, squealing, and maybe cursing, will get the thing to let loose. So you throw the whole birdfeeder casket away and run into the house to wash, wash, wash your hands with Borax.

As you calm down, you decide to text your husband to let him know you’ve suffered a calamity. To make him aware of the severity of the situation, the text consisted of the universal sign for the gross and unexpected, “EEEEEEEEWWWWWW!”

Does he phone you immediately to check on your delicate sensibilities? NO. Does he text back to ask what is the matter? NO. He texts the following, “Pictures! I want to see pictures!!”

It is now you realize your husband is a dork.

Then you put on gloves, go to the trash bin to take pictures of the dead bird stuck in the birdfeeder to send to your husband so he has something to talk about at the water cooler.

You ever have one of those days? No? Just me, then.

When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not our friend…

The Marine and his Sunshine have recently been transferred. It was so nice to have both grandbabies in the same city (even though it wasn’t my city) for the short time that they were. Luckily for me, they didn’t move too far. At the end of my Nana Mission in Phoenix, I took a few days and drove out to see him. Them, I went to see all of them. Really, what’s a six hour drive when we’re talking about the Lil Prince?

As much as I would have liked to spend three weeks with the Lil Prince, teaching him all kinds of cool stuff like I did with Baby K, I could see the Marine was doing a bang-up job of teaching his boy the fundamentals. Now, you may be thinking eating from a spoon, crawling, sharing and things like that. Remember, this boy has a Marine for a dad, so the fundamentals are a little different in this family.

A Marine takes a moment to determine the stranger danger. Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everyone you meet.  

 
Morning PT with Daddy. We keep going until he’s tired. Pain is weakness leaving the body.

   
Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, never stay awake when you can sleep.

 
This is my binky. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My binky is my best friend. I must master it as I master my life. My binky, without me is useless. Without my binky, I am useless.

 
A Marine does not retreat. He attacks from a different direction.

Never tell the Staff Sergeant you have nothing to do. He’ll put you down for a nap.

 
Being in the Marine Corps Band will not get you out of combat training.
Even the tuba player is a rifleman first.

A Marine assesses the situation from every possible angle and if in doubt, empties the magazine.

If your attack is going really well, it’s an ambush.

Unless you are actively in combat, a Marine must take a bath every night.
(That’s more of a Mommy rule, than a Marine Corps rule, but she is the highest ranking officer in this unit)

I would wish for Sunshine to have a girl next, but it wouldn’t matter. A female Marine is still a Marine and follows all the same rules and credo. Sorry Sunshine, just stand your ground and remember that you outrank everyone.

I enjoyed my time with the Marine, Sunshine and Lil Prince, although it was way too short.
I learned something, too, while I was there:

When it comes to Nana, this Marine is not so tough. In fact, he’s kinda squishy and cuddly!

If you can’t take the heat, don’t tickle the dragon…

Alright! Who the hell tickled the dragon?? And all his little dragon friends. Because there is some serious heat going on out there.

We are finally home from the beach house shelter. It was very nice down there. In all the times I’ve been down there, I’ve met a few of the weekenders, but not too many of the full time residents. Having to buy four bags of ice every day at the local minimart was a perfect opportunity. Everyone is so pleasant. Even to strangers! I love that.

After being home for two days, the house is just now starting to cool off. Thank gawd. Although I really have not been the one complaining of the heat, I do have to admit, the humidity involved is awful. I have been blamed for bringing the heat with me from Phoenix, and while that might be true, the humidity was here when I got here!! Right now, this minute, it is 89° with 65% humidity. In two hours, the temperature will soar to 101 with a heat index of 107, with 37% humidity.

I will be honest with you, I really don’t know how humidity works or what the number has to be to make it seem like being on the inside of a crab steamer. I do know it affects the heat index. Another little item I learned about when we moved to this area the first time, 15 years ago. Apparently heat index is what it feels like outside. I think the weathermen made that up because they are not allowed to say “Hotter than the hammered hinges of hell” on television. In Phoenix when they say it is going to be 112°, it feels like 112°. There is no heat index about it, stay inside.

CGMan was having a very uncomfortable time with me yesterday as we ran a couple of errands. Big guys do not do well with heat and humidity. We did all that we could to keep the car cool while running into the various stores; parking faced away from the sun, putting in the window cover, cracking the windows and sunroof. It didn’t really help. Poor guy. Maybe next time I’ll let him drive so he can have the seat with the A/C. Or not.

He did offer a suggestion for this most recent heat wave, which I see is heading further north where people live without air conditioners because it never gets hot there. On days the heat index is above 100°, clothing should be optional.

Of course, he believes Tuesdays should be clothing optional, too.

As he’s playing golf this morning, I wonder if he’s looking around at all the sweaty, slightly past their prime, retired military guys and still thinking the same thing?

Storms make trees take deeper roots. - Dolly Parton

Except when storms pick up the trees and send them crashing down on power lines all over your state. CGMan and I were sitting around watching TV late Friday evening, minding our own business when we heard our patio furniture fly past the living room window. Right about that time, the power went off. Looking outside, I expected to see a cow fly by and a guy riding a bike with that creepy tornado music from The Wizard of Oz.It scared us enough to get the dogs in the basement and wait it out. The next morning we realized the power probably was not going to come back on any time soon, so when Chef Sue called from the beach house, it didn't take much to convince us to pack up the dogs and get out of dodge. We are still at the "shelter" and let me tell you, it's been rough. When Chef Sue put the fresh ears of corn on thE grill, the husks caught fire and in turn set the chicken on fire. It had been lazily spinning on its rotisserie all afternoon. The steak Diane turned out perfectly, though. I have a beautiful picture of it flaming perfectly in the pan, but because I am roughing it in the shelter, I cannot get it to upload on my iPad. Oh, the struggles. We are told the power should be restored by the end of the week. Unfortunately, that didn't help with the freezer and fridge contents, but at least the wine will survive! Don't worry about us, we'll be fine here at the beachside shelter for the rest of the week.