Kryptonite.

A super hero (heroine) should never divulge their weakness.  Unless, of course, that super hero wants others to feel more secure in their own “areas needing improvement”.  I suppose it could even be categorized less as an expression of weakness and more as gallant leaps outside the comfort zone.  I mean, let’s think about it.  In order for a super hero to be “super”, she or he must be constantly one step ahead of the villain, right?  For that to happen, the faithful heroine must keep the training and learning curve alive by exposing herself to new and sometimes difficult situations.  It is possible that within those situations, their may be persons/places/things/scenarios that bring about a less that heroic appearance to the super hero.

For example, Superman had everything going for him - good looks, charm, a good cover in Clark Kent, and he could fly.  He was more powerful than a locomotive, he could stop a speeding bullet with his chest!  He could overpower a room full of 50 villains while leaping over a tall building in a single bond, but put one little colorful stone from the planet Krypton near him and it was all over.  Superman wilted like week old roses.

The other day, I decided that it was time to expand my super hero skills.  I took a flying leap outside of my comfort zone and landed smack-dab in the middle of a pile of Zumbanite.  I should give some very important background information here, in order for the big picture to be crystal clear.

My ventures into the world of rhythm and movement were back in high school when I was in the band and glee club.  There was the jazz band - a wee bit of be-bopping happened there.  I played the trumpet, so not much more than a bob of the head or tap of the foot going on for me.  There was the marching band.  We marched.  One foot in front of the other, head level, rolling from heel to toe on the outside of the foot and squeezing the cheeks (not the ones on our faces) tightly together as though we were holding marbles between them.  There was no room for shoulder swaying, hip thrusting or belly swinging there!  We did, however, “Play that funky music, white boy” and made sure to “get down and boogie” without tipping our boxy feather toting hats off of our heads.  Now, the Glee Club was a slightly different story.  There I had the opportunity to bust some moves in the girls ensemble.  We rocked out with a jazz square or two.

All of that was over 15 years ago, so any “skills” that I may have had simply evaporated over the years.  I have played field hockey, basketball, softball and I even spent some time on the track team.  None of these activities involve any sort of fancy hip or shoulder movements.  These days I am accustomed to linear activities.  I study a style of Martial Arts that involves kicking and punching in straight lines and defending ourselves by using the shortest distance between two points.  It is methodical,  powerful and doesn’t require any fancy hip or shoulder action.

With all of the above in mind, it should come as not surprise that I found (part of) my own personal “kryptonite” - Zumba.  (Really, it goes beyond Zumba to any sort of dance.)  If you don’t believe me, just ask those who were present for the class.  Everyone with whom I have spoken who has participated in Zumba has told me what a wonderful workout it is.  I have no doubt that they are telling the truth, however, I think the key is that you have to keep moving.  I spent so much time trying to figure out which way to go so as not to crash into a wall or another person, that I never quite got “jiggy with it”.  I did, however, get rather winded, but that was partially from the laughter when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror (better to laugh than cry, I always say), and partially from the stress of seeing my heroic self-image crumble to the ground in a puddle of Zumba-muck.   I think that maybe my body just doesn’t work in the way that some folk’s do.  It’s the smooth flow that throws me off kilter.  The feet go this way, the arms go that way and the shoulders and core go somewhere else in between.  My feet wanted to go towards the door, my head wanted to hide under a rock and my core had stage fright and froze right where we stood.  

Every now and again, I would catch on to the movement, but by the time I got the hands and feet coordinated together, it was time to move on to a different song.  The general rule of thumb, it seems, is to just keep moving.  I did my best, but I felt like a hamster trapped in a ball avoiding all of the skilled artists dancing happily around me.  I tried correlating the movements with karate techniques.  When we did the head and chest circle things, I thought of avoiding knife attacks.  This was a slight overkill on my part, but it got my head moving.  Some of the arm movements became strikes, and the fancy feet were just that - fancy (though not at all to be classified as graceful).  The unfortunate part of this mental imagery that I was using was that it caused my mind to wander.  I would then get so caught up in my visualization that I wouldn’t recognize immediately when the rest of the folks changed direction.  I never actually crashed into anyone, but that was out of sheer luck, I think. 

Despite the fact that I gave the appearance (at least I think so) that I have absolutely no rhythm or skill, I think the class was a success overall.  As I made mental correlations with techniques from the martial arts realm, I realized (again) the interconnectedness of all things.  There are styles of martial arts that are meant to appear as dance so that an “outsider” won’t know what is occurring.  Dancers dance to music.  Dance is a form of total athleticism.  Athletes (in many other sports, i.e. field hockey, softball, basketball, football, you get the point) often listen to music before competing.  Musicians, like athletes and dancers spend hours and hours practicing and honing their skills.  People (in general) are entertained and amazed by all of the above, just as we are all amazed by “superheroes”.   

All of these thoughts ran through my mind as I jumped, jived and wailed, bopped, hopped, twisted and turned.  It was not long before I realized that my mind hand wandered a wee bit too far and I was clearly not doing the same things that the rest of the participants were doing.  I can only hope that I wasn’t picking my nose or anything more embarrassing than proving that I have not two, but at least three or four left feet.

The truth of that matter is, however, that in order to grow, we truly must leave our comfort zone at times.  I ventured out into the world of Zumba, got scared, and returned to my comfort zone immediately afterwards by taking a Yoga class.  As much as I “fear” losing my super powers to  Zumbanite, I also recognize the experience as a wonderful opportunity.  Throughout my life, I, like many other people, have done only those things that I have been good at.  I have stayed away from those things with which I did not feel total confidence.  I may never become a dancer or a Zumba instructor, but I am beginning to learn that it is okay to simply have fun and enjoy what is happening at the moment.  It’s okay to have many left feet, as long as those feet are given the freedom to flow in the way that they are able to flow at a given time.  We need not “force” our feet or anyone else’s feet to travel in a particular direction.  We need only trust in the “force” and allow our feet to travel in the direction of our Highest Good.

Look out, Zumbanite, here I come!!!!!!  

It's All Fun and Games Until.........

If you have read my Facebook update for today, you already know the main subject of this post.  However,  you have not received the full impact of the day's adventures.  Read on, if you so choose.

The Start


It was a bright and sunny morning that began with a short drive to leave a car at a garage followed by a lovely bike ride through the park to get back home.  I decided during the ride that I really should do this every day that I am off work (the bike ride, not the car to garage part).  It was really a lovely ride.  Now, as is our usual "M.O." (That's "cop talk" for Modus Operandi, btw - or so they tell me), Mare and I were in a bit of an individually collective rush.  She wanted to go for a walk with Lucy (Lab) before Stevie and I needed to leave for Stevie's day at Dance camp.  I pedaled as fast as my little legs could go and made it back just in time.

We can fast forward a wee bit here.  No one needs to know that the girls watched an episode of Avatar: The last Air Bender while I showered and that we had scrambled eggs after that, then started to get Stevie dressed for camp as Mare arrived back home with Lucy.  Since there is no need to put that part in, I'll skip right to the part where Stevie and I were just about to walk out the door when Mare yelled something to the effect of, "Oh No!  Holy Sh%t!  What is.....we......we.....we have a leak!"
"huh?" I said, with the usual level of brilliance that I display around the house.  Then what she had said registered with my cognitive senses and I darted to the front room where she was standing and staring at the ceiling.

Sure enough, there it was.  A crack in the ceiling with little bubbles lining the edge of it and drips of water going "plop", "plop", "plop" onto the table underneath.  Crap.  Definitely a leak.  Obviously.  Not that I doubted Mare's assessment by any means, I was just hoping that maybe something had spilled onto the ceiling and was dripping innocuously into the air and evaporating before causing any puddles.  Now, the positive part about the water dripping in this particular area is that it was over top of a table of houseplants, so, I simply pulled the table forward and allowed the water to "plop", "plop", "plop" into the plants.

Putting our heads together to determine the source of the leak, we concluded that it was, in fact, NOT the toilet based solely on the layout of the house and fact that the bathroom is not over that particular area.  (We are clearly destined to be the next Cagney and Lacey.)  After some brief pondering and a sprint up the stairs, I was able to determine that the leak was coming from the area of the upstairs window containing the air conditioner.  Apparently when I installed it, I did not provide enough of a tilt for the condensation to drain out the back and it had pooled into the window sill and begun draining into the wall, thus seeping its way out to the ceiling and down through the pre-fab crack.  (Pre-fab crack sounds much better than just letting you think that we have cracks in our plaster ceilings.)

Now might be a good time to remind those who may have forgotten that I have a "special" gift.  It is called "distractabilititis" or, as Mare calls it, "adult A.D.D."  Personally, I think it is just an underrated ability to juggle multiple activities/tasks.

Anyway, being so concerned about the ceiling and a.c., I darted off with Stevie to camp, then headed to the gym for a rigorous workout.  (Exercise always helps me get focused on what needs to be done.)  Then I stopped by Target to pick up a new Britta pitcher since ours had mysteriously thrown itself onto the floor when Mare took it out this morning.  (forshadowing, perhaps?)

The Fix Begins


Upon returning home, I began my attack on the situation at hand.  I went up to check the floor and dripping situation.  The a.c. was off and heat rises, so it was quite toasty upstairs.  The good news was that the dripping had stopped.  Simple enough to remedy, I thought.  I shall simply take the unit out, place a bit of wood underneath, and tilt it back so that the water drains outside rather than in.  And so I went to work.

I went to the garage, found some wood and cut it to size.  I went back upstairs, then realized that I needed the screwdriver that I had left downstairs.  I went back down and found the needles (for inflating balls) that I had just purchased at Target, looked for my flat basketball and had a snack.  Finding the basketball and pleasantly full from my snack, I went to the garage for the wood that I had forgotten out there.  I pumped up the basketball, made a couple of shots, then remembered the wood.
Upstairs with the wood I went, then back down for the screwdriver that was still downstairs.  While getting the screwdriver, I also grabbed the tub and tile caulk.  Back upstairs I trotted and proceeded to begin the recaulking of the edge of the bathtub.  I then realized that I had planned to replace the gasket behind the tub drain, so using the screwdriver that I now had in my hand for removal of the air conditioner, I removed the overflow cover from the tub.  Of course, in order to get the old gasket off, I needed to be BEHIND the tub, so I pulled all of the laundry out of the closet in order to get to the pipes. It was then that I realized just how hot it really was upstairs, which reminded me that my REAL mission was the air conditioner reconfiguration.  So, back to the bedroom I went, screwdriver in hand, and proceeded to pull the unit out of the window.

Everything in place, I was now ready to return the air conditioner to its rightful place on the sill.  I popped that puppy in there and realized that I needed the window to open just a wee bit more.  In order for that to happen, I needed to release the top part of the window and open it as though I were removing the bottom pane, this way, the top part of the pane tilts in and the bottom remains in the track.  The window was now free to move, so I pushed up.  Nothing.  Pushed harder and still nothing.   Frustration started to set in, so I rooted to the ground and pushed from the very core of my being.
Up went the window in the blink of an eye.  In that same blink, OUT went the air conditioner which had, apparently, been leaning against the window for support.  Suddenly, the air conditioner that had been in my window was replaced by a power strip, dangling as if to say, "you plug one more thing into me and I'm going to jump too!"

"Oh F*&k," I exclaimed, and then began to laugh so hard that I was crying.  As I was laughing, I was wondering what the heck was so funny, yet I couldn't stop laughing.  Mare wasn't sure if I was crying in pain or laughing.  She heard a thud, the birds flew from their perches and scattered, the dogs ....well, the dogs didn't really do anything.

The Aftermath

On the ground, down below, lay our air conditioner.  No longer in any condition to provide air for us.  It lay broken and mangled.  The damp ground did not provide a welcome cushion for the fall.  Humpty Dumpty would not be put together again.  And I laughed.  Mare came up to investigate and she laughed at the fact that I was laughing.  We laughed.

She walked back downstairs, I sighed, wiped my eyes and turned to close the window which promptly fell forward and whacked me on the forehead.   I stopped laughing.
I checked for blood, saw none, then saw myself throwing the window out with the air conditioner.  I quickly realized that this would not be a positive course of action and just yelled at the window instead.  That was much more effective.  The window did not apologize.  I think the bonk on the head was the window's way of letting me know that it was grieving the loss of the air conditioner as much as we were.  Clearly windows have feelings too.

So, having more time on my hands since I had no air conditioner to reconfigure, I returned to the task of removing the gasket from the partially dismantled bath tub overflow drain.  While removing the old gasket, I thought it would be a good idea to fish around under the floorboards behind the tub and see if I might locate the electrical box for the kitchen ceiling light.  I closed my eyes (which was totally unnecessary since I couldn't see under there anyway, but at least this way I could ward off any monsters that might come out after me) and reached as far as I could under the floor boards.  I touched something hairy.  It was prickly and hairy.  I would have jumped, but my hand was under the floorboards and I was in the closet.  (the actual closet, not the "other" closet....I came out of that one years ago.)  Anyway, I closed my eyes tighter and felt again......I gently grabbed the hairy, prickly thing and pulled it out.
It was a vacuum cleaner brush attachment!
Very interesting.  What else could be in there?

The Search, The Grab, The Conclusion


We obviously needed to repair and replace a couple of things around the house, so after picking Stevie up from camp, we decided to take full advantage of the hour prior to getting her back for her evening class.  I darted into Home Depot to grab a new gasket and an air conditioner.  No on the a.c., yes on the gasket.  Lowes was also sold out of air conditioners.  That left only one place available.....Walmart.  *sigh*
Walmart came through for us.  I grabbed one of the two remaining reasonable sized units available, balanced it on my cart (with the help of a very kind gentleman - customer, that is) and scampered off to pay for my treasure.

After dance class, I put on a bit of a show for the neighbors as I tried numerous positions in my failed attempts to get the air conditioner out of the box.  I finally conceded my loss and drug the open box across the grass to the front door.   Eventually I got it out with Mare's assistance and lugged the thing upstairs where I promptly got jammed in the doorway to the bedroom, air conditioner stuck on one side, my finger on the other.  After a lengthy howl, I realized that I needed to back up, turn around, and back myself into the room.

A wave of the magic wand and "poof" the new unit was placed in the window and purring like a mountain lion that just swallowed a snake.  This thing is rather large and much louder than the one that got away.  The important thing is that it works and it did not fall out of the window.

We now have a new air conditioner, a new overflow drain gasket, and a freshly caulked tub.  I have a dent in my finger and a bump on my head, and I am now certain that there is a pot of gold, a gnome, and perhaps some other fun treasures strategically placed within the walls and ceilings of our house.

Tune in tomorrow for a quick recap of my evening venture outside of my comfort zone.....aka. Zumba

Thanks for stopping by!

The Semi-Random, Less than Predictable Adventures of Kay Oss

Hello, my name is Kay.   I'm basically a drifter.  I go where ever and whenever the wind takes me, in fact, half the time I don't know where I am!  It's okay, though.  I rather enjoy the element of surprise.  The best is the look on people's faces when I end up on their doorstep.  I usually drop in at just the right moment, at least by my standards.  The funny thing is, no one seems to have the same standards as I do.  I mean, we all need a sense of adventure, right?  So, I'm not sure why folks seem to get upset soon after I am dropped off. Maybe it would all make more sense if I just take you along on a typical day for me (and by "day", I mean a period of time.  Light or dark makes no difference in my book).

Are you ready?  Here we go:
I'm hanging out under my favorite Japanese Maple tree, reading a book and just enjoying the twilight hours.  I hear a rustling in the leaves and I know it's time to fly.  I quickly tuck my book into my bag and tighten my straps.
Whooooooooooosh........I'm (we are) off!  (Hold on tight!!)  Soaring on the air currents, no particular destination in mind.
I learned a long time ago to make no attempt at controlling my landing spot.  As it turns out, where I go is a completely random event.  What happens when I get there is often random as well, although the folks who are there do have some input as to what actually occurs during my stay.  The weird part is that they seldom realize that they have any say whatsoever.  So strange!  The most interesting thing, from my perspective, is that there is ALWAYS someone there.  I have never landed on a completely deserted island or even in an empty house.
As suddenly as I am swooped up, I feel myself falling.  It's not like one of those dream falls - you know the kind I'm talking about - where you are falling and falling and then just as you are about to hit bottom, you wake up with a tremendous start, limbs flailing in all directions.  Anyway, it's just a gradual float downward and then PLOP!  I'm sitting in front of a lovely little house.
On this occasion, it is a nice little house with semi-manicured flower gardens, bricks that had been painted and are now peeling and siding that is definitely in need of a good powerwashing.  (I am not being critical here, just descriptive.)  I like to look around before I go inside.  Sometimes it just doesn't seem worth my time to even try to take up shelter for any period of time.  This house, however, is perfect.  In fact, I am so excited to introduce myself to the residents!  Come on!  Let's go in!!!!  I'm not even going to ring the bell, I'm just going right in.....wait......uh oh.....dogs....Perfect!  That makes it even better!  I LOVE dogs!  I love the sounds that they make when I ring the doorbell.  Such beautiful barks, whines, growls and howls!  Let's see what these two can do!
"DING DING"
(Obnoxious barking, yipping, groaning, growling, and howling ensue.)
Ah, perfect!  What a din.  And....yep, there it is, the shouting above the doggie chatter.
The door opens and I slip in without a sound (well, without a sound on my part, anyway).  This is when the fun really begins.  The now irate home owner is behind me looking out the door, clearly curious as to what has started the bark-bash.  Of course, I'm already inside, so they have no idea that it was me.  Soon enough they will welcome me to their humble abode.
Now that I've heard the chatter of the dogs (who are still at it, by the way), it is time to see what else can be accomplished.
Ah, birds.  Perfect.
A little wave of my hand and so begins the chorus of squawks.  Dancing, flapping, jingling the bells.  Ooh, one of the dogs was startled by the bell and bumped into the cage, startling the white bird.  Now she is in flight.  Wow!  Great wing span!
Oops, she has knocked over the bottle of water on the table.  Uh oh.  Here comes a toddler.
Ouch!  That was a loud scream!
Apparently the little one is afraid of the flying, squawking, water spilling avian.
Another adult is now bounding down the stairs.
"What's going on?" she asks as two more children who appear to be under the age of 5 come running from the back room.
"Mommy, Momma!  The dogs are barking and I spilled my cereal!" cries one.
The other states, matter of factly, "I stinky".

"Aaahhhhh," cries the door opening adult in answer to the question posed by the other, "Welcome to CHAOS!"

And there we have it.  I have been welcomed to their home.  I, Kay Oss, shall spend the night here tonight.  That is, unless these folks figure out how to adjust quickly........

Night on the town (or "Oh my God, that feels so good, you have NO IDEA!")

Notice:  1.)  If you have children, you are likely to identify closely with the contents of this post.

              2.) If you are thinking about having children, you may or may not want to continue.

                    a.) Social misfits and those who prefer the "quiet" life - you are safe to continue.

                    b.) Social butterflies, those who prefer the "wild" life - carefully consider your options..... 

Okay, now that the official "Notice" is out of the way, let me continue.  (If anyone is still reading...."tap, tap tap....testing 1,2,3.....tap....is this thing on??")

Once or twice a month, or every other month, or so, Mare and I afford ourselves the opportunity to venture out - alone.  (By "alone", I mean just the two of us.)  I should specify.  Whenever Nanny or Gram come to visit, we leave Baby Ruth and the KitKats with the lucky "Grand" and off we go, usually to dinner and a movie.  Good times.

Our plan tonight was just that, well, except for the dinner part.  In a concerted effort to consume low calorie, healthy treats, Mare whipped up a tasty dinner for us all.  We then planned to go to a movie.   You guessed it, the key word there was "PLANNED".  We were very well intentioned.  Dinner was planned and in the works in plenty of time.  Pajamas were ready for the Chillin's.  Nanny was set with her evening activities and bed time rhetoric.  I even completed the set up of the two new car seats!  We were Rockin' and Rollin'!

Now, who can tell me what car seats come in?  Anyone?  Yes, that's correct.  They come in boxes.  Very large boxes.  We had two.  What is the best toy EVER?  (If you are connected to me on Facebook, you already know the answer, so no cheating!)  YES!  Excellent!  CARDBOARD boxes that are large enough to hold a small child.  What is better?  (Yes, there is something even better.)  Our boxes were large enough to hold not only one small child, nor two, but rather a small child AND an adult.  I think it is needless to say but I'll put it out there anyway.  Baby Ruth and the KitKats and I spent the next 40 minutes or so playing in the boxes.  We played roller coaster, we hopped around the room in the box, we slid into the boxes, we tipped the boxes over (landing on the soft bag of stuffed animals).  It was a grand time.  

Next thing we knew, it was time for dinner and Mare and I had only 30 minutes to eat, change clothes and head to the movies.  Not wanting to rush and get indigestion, we decided that a trip to the bookstore for some browsing and bonding would suffice.  At least we would be out and about.  So, we put the girls to bed, tucked everyone in (including Nanny) and bid them all good night.  Then, we started thinking outside the box.  Since we would be heading out anyway, why not stop by Target to return some umbrellas which we had purchased earlier in the day for the KitKats and which had promptly broken in one way or another.  While in the shopping area, we decided, we may as well stop by Walmart to pick up the Ship to Site package that was now available.  We would still have plenty of browsing and bonding time.  

First stop, Target.  I waited in the car while Mare made a successful return.  We then headed over to Walmart.  Now, I have not been in a Walmart in quite some time and I am very much a creature of habit, especially when it comes to stores and shopping.  I go to the same places, walk the same route through the store, look at the same items and areas, and usually purchase similar items each time.  (fyi, see # 2(a) above)  Well, what a special treat it was to venture into a new realm.....the realm of Walmart.  It is different there.  I'm not sure what makes it so different.  I mean, the products and prices are very similar to Target, so why the difference in the clientele?  Alas, that is a discussion for another post.  Anyway, immediately upon entering, I was drawn to the rack of "MMA" shorts.  I had no idea that Walmart carried such items!  Much to my dismay, the only pair in my size was a less than attractive pair of brown camouflage shorts.  During my search, Mare had ventured off to pick up our shipment.  I spent the next few minutes wandering aimlessly about in the front of the store looking for her like a lost child.  Finally, I decided to venture off to the restroom all by my "big girl" self.  Just as I entered the stall, she called me to let me know her exact whereabouts.  Based on the background noise from my end of the line, I think it was unnecessary for me to tell her where I was.

Finishing my "business", I meandered through the store, browsing and picking up a few necessities that were on sale.  (FYI, Toy Story band aids are only $1.68 right now)  I then made my way to the back of the store for a joyful reunion with my date for the evening.  She had also collected a few "necessities".  (I am looking forward to drawing with the new glitter markers and Color Wonder paper!  Hey, maybe we'll decorate our boxes!)  We even managed to find some new, hopefully heartier, umbrellas for the KitKats.  (As we perused the umbrella selection, I had the mischievous notion to open up ALL of the umbrellas and leave them for the night shift clean up crew.  Of course, having worked in the retail world, I wouldn't dare do such a thing, but it made me giggle nonetheless.)  (again, see #2(a) above)

Our work completed at Walmart, we checked the time and decided that, despite the late hour (it as nearly 9:00 PM), we would carry on with our plan and head to Barnes and Noble.  After all, they are open until 11:00pm on Friday and Saturday nights; probably for folks just like us.  

Upon our arrival at B&N, I insisted that we check the hours, just in case they did close at 10.  I figured there was little point in going in if we had only half an hour.  Mare, on the other hand, thought that would be plenty of time.  Much to my delight, my extended hour hunch was confirmed and we decided to forge ahead. 

"Heck", we thought, "maybe we'll stay until 10:30."  

Mare said, "I don't care, we can even stay until 11:00, as long as I can go right to bed when we get home.  I want to get up early and walk the dogs."  (yep, just what I'm thinking about during a "night on the town" with my wife.)

Anyway, so in we went and decided to get crazy and go to the cafe'.  We ordered caffeinated beverages and began our browsing.  A couple of good finds later, we decided to settle into some seats and begin our bonding.  Mare opened her magazine and I pulled out my laptop.  She read, I composed.  Sickening, the romance, isn't it?  

Every now and again I read a quote to her.  She showed me another magazine that she thought I might find interesting.  I nodded in appreciation as I handed it back to her, barely able to take my fingers from the keyboard lest I not complete my work for the night.  (By "work", I mean "composition", and by "composition", I refer to this Blog post.)

Yes, my friends, we live on the edge of romance and extremism.  We are Livin' Large and Lovin' Life!  I was not able to complete this while in the store.  The "we will be closing in half an hour" announcement came over the p.a. system, and not wanting to be stragglers, Mare promptly paid for our purchases as I closed my laptop.  

We exited the store and Mare then exclaimed something that every "husband type" wants to hear at least once in a while: "Oh my God, that feels so good, you have NO IDEA!"

Yep, she was referring to the balmy air outside the store.  She had been quite chilly inside.

We have now returned home.  Mare has gone to bed as planned, and I am unwinding from our adventures with my "Mac-Daddy", some blue corn chips and a Shipyard Summer Ale.  Now who can top this evening?

C'mon, I dare ya!

;-)