Meeting more of our family

Sharon met Oleg several months ago when we stayed at Bonnet Creek for a getaway weekend. This weekend, we wanted her to meet his family. She bought chocolate chip cookies and put them into the oven so the house would smell nice and Oleg's family would think she had baked all day. Then, she threw flour on her face so it looked like she'd baked these cookies, and after everyone was seated, she brought them out.

She also told everyone she would be Darcy's flower girl at their wedding. When Marina disagreed with that sentiment, Sharon said she'd walk on her knees to appear younger and did just that, pretending she was tossing flowers. Marina was unimpressed. The two went back and forth until Sharon told her to have another cookie.

Then we took photos.

Sharon did not behave.

Until I made her.

Sharon in the house

Sharon and Henry are here for a swimming competition. At 13, Henry swims up a level. He's that good.

I hadn't seen him swim. Not since he was last in my pool when I told him my dead mother was on top of our china cabinet, and Sharon was behind him, giving me the slash across the throat signal.

Sharon: "I just don't want to vacuum Connie up if he climbs up there to check her out."

The first night was the 500 free. His stroke was beautiful. Effortless. He let the guy next to him lead, drafting off his wake until the guy finally tired, and then Henry made his move. He won with no problem. I got choked up watching him. There is something about watching your friends' kids mature, thrive, and succeed. It's special.

The kid is special. He is disciplined and motivated. He can hold conversations with kids and adults alike. We enjoyed having him, and it was fun to watch him swim, although the heat about did me in.

Oh, and his mother is fun, too.

Ready for summer

Our pool is leaking--significantly.

Before COVID, Tom turned over the pool care to me. I've done a damn fine job, and I notice every little thing--like rapidly losing water.

But, as my readers know, repairs (and things outdoors) fall under the husband-will-take-care category.

Him: "How would you feel if we just filled the pool?"

Me: "I knew that would be your response. No."

I kept bugging him. He finally admitted he didn't know who to call. I suggested the guy that put in our new pump during COVID. He didn't return our calls. Pinch-a-Penney, the pool guru company here in Florida, shrugged and couldn't offer much advice either, according to the hubby.

Finally, while at my writer's conference in May, I spoke to a guy whose daughter had just had her pool leak repaired. He agreed to get me the company's name, and once I had it, I called them. I explained that our trouble began after my husband cleaned out the filter.

Me: "This isn't to say I blame him for the leak, but I think maybe he is the cause of the leak."

We made an appointment. The pool was to be clean and sparkling. It was on the day the repairman showed up. Victor was six feet seven inches. I know because I asked him. I did not tell him I was writing a romance novel with a hero of that height. My children have requested I keep that information to myself whenever I spot tall men.

He gave me an A+ for my pool care, told me he'd be checking the lines, the skimmer, and the light, and told me I didn't need to micromanage him. Thank god, because it was like 110 degrees.

I went back to writing. My office is poolside, so Victor had to pass by my windows to his truck. He did this often. Back and forth. Back and forth. Eventually, during one of my Apple Watch's recommended stand up and move times, I peered out at the pool. Here is what I saw.

My main focus was on Victor underwater. I watched and watched him, and when he didn't come up for air, I started getting antsy. What the heck? I pictured him floating gently to the surface, unconscious. I started panicking. What to do? Jump in and pull him out? Scream at him to see if he surfaced? My lifeguarding certification has expired. What the hell was this guy thinking?

Somewhere among the rapid thoughts flitting through my head, I registered a sound. That's when I noticed the object on the side of the pool and followed the hose. 

OH! It was like the air pump the mermaids at Weeki Wachee use! That is so cool! Then, I wanted to ask a ton of questions. And then, my brain began thinking of how this job was right up my alley.

Eventually, I left him alone. It took him over an hour to find nothing. I paid $350 for no signs of a leak, although he blamed it on the seal to the filter, which led me to believe IT WAS THE HUSBAND'S FAULT ALL ALONG.

He told me what to buy. I took a picture of it and wrote out the check. He told me it was good for 90 days.

A week later, our pool leaked worse than before the leak guy showed. I was filling it every day instead of every two days. I called the company back. A different guy showed up. He was not as gregarious as his counterpart, and he did not use an air pump. This time, I stayed outside until the 120-degree weather melted me. I went inside and left him to the job.

He rechecked everything and delivered the news. Our skimmer was leaking, and he found a cracked lid on the pump system. He was diligent. 

Me: "Are you the closer of the company?"

Him: "I'm the owner."

Okay, so not the most friendly guy, but hey, he sealed the leaks! 

The husband got a new lid a couple days later, and as of now, we are good to go!

Summer Pictures 2023

 

Walking downtown Dunedin

Summer Nature

Tom the little heifer

Crosswalk

Rain on flowers

Who is this?

Bonnet Creek

Sunset

Happy Birthday, Oleg

Beauty in dirt

Faux Rebecca

As a responsible timeshare owner, I attended the annual Wyndham owner via Zoom. One of us needs to stay abreast of this shit, and there is no way my brother will participate.

They do a decent job. I can't imagine being there in person other than to get in on the gift giveaways, and I learned one or two new things, but I did wonder how many people showed up in person. I can't imagine sitting in an audience while this plays out, but people were there. I heard them.

Fast forward two days later. I went to Bonnet Creek for the weekend. Darcy's roommate, Sofie, had a basketball tourney in Orlando, so I tagged along to give her a place to stay. On Friday night, I took her to the owner's lounge to watch the Disney fireworks. It's a perk I do enjoy. It's a large room with plenty of indoor seating, a pool table, and a super cool drink machine that makes everything from espresso shots to lattes, cappuccinos, and hot chocolates. It's on the umpteenth floor and has a balcony with seating to view the laser show at Hollywood Studios and the fireworks from Magic Kingdom and Epcot. 

There were a few people there, and when it finished, most of them left. Sofie and I were left standing on the balcony with a kid about nine or ten years old, drinking some hot beverage from the super cool maker. He piped up as I questioned the location of the Disney properties, giving me detailed geographic locations. Then, he proceeded to chat with us. Somewhere in our conversation, he flashed this large placard he had hanging around his neck, telling us that he had gone to the owner's meeting. I asked if his name was Rebecca, seeing as that was on the placard.

 Him: "That's my mom. I went with her and my grandfather."

I questioned him. How many people were there? Do they sit in rows of chairs like an audience? Or around a table? Do they give away tons of prizes? I know there was a spinning wheel, but did they give away other stuff? Does his mom always go?

He answered all of them: About thirty. They sit in chairs like an audience. They gave away free stuff like that lanyard. His mom won a free weekend at a resort. His grandfather likes to go to the meetings.

Then he told us he'd had too much coffee, indicating the cup in his hand. I suggested he maybe switch to water, and I asked him his name. He turned quiet--as in do-not-tell-strangers-your-name quiet. I nodded, called him Rebecca, thanked him for his information, and told him we were going inside to play pool."

Faux Rebecca: "I'm going inside too. I like pool."

Sofie and I glanced around for some adults, but there was nada. The kid appeared to be in the Presidential Lounge by himself. The three of us went inside, but a family was already at the pool table. Faux Rebecca didn't care. He marched up to the father and the kids and basically told them their turn was over. Sofie and I winced. The mother laughed, said they were finished, and off they went.

Faux Rebecca: "I need to get more coffee."

Off he trekked to the machine. Sofie told me she was concerned about his coffee intake. I assured her the kid wasn't really consuming much. It was more about the making process. 

We racked up the balls. I started a spiel about not knowing how to play, giving Sofie my best hustler imitation. I needn't have bothered. Faux Rebecca returned, sat down his coffee, got a stick, and took over. He made up the game as he went along, chatting the entire time.

Faux Rebecca: "I think I've had way too much coffee. I'm getting a little jittery. That's why I'm missing so many shots. I think I've had five or six cups."

At some point, another kid joined us. He was even younger, and his head barely came above the table. He was there with his older brother, who ignored all of us. The conversation was hilarious while we played what did not resemble the game of pool whatsoever.

Me: "What's your name?"

Simon: "Simon."

Me: "I'm Cara, that's Sofie, and this is Rebecca."

Faux Rebecca: "Yeah."

Simon: "I'm from Texas."

Me: "Sofie and I live in Florida."

Faux Rebecca: "I live in a state that begins with an I."

Me: "Iowa?"

Faux Rebecca: "No."

Me: "Idaho?"

Faux Rebecca: "No, it begins with a C."

Me: "You said an I."

Faux Rebecca: "I meant a C."

Me: Colorado?"

Faux Rebecca: "No."

Me: "North Carolina? South Carolina?"

Faux Rebecca: "That isn't a C."

Me: "Carolina begins with a C."

Faux Rebecca: "It's Columbia, don't you know."

Me: "That's a country, not a state."

Faux Rebecca: "My grandfather is from there."

We played several games with the conversation all over the place until Sofie and I had had enough. We bid them both goodnight and left. All the way to our room, Sofie went and on about how Faux Rebecca's parents just let him wander that lounge alone. I reminded her that he'd done a good job of not telling us his name. She didn't think that counted as good parenting. 

After returning to our room, I realized I'd left my water glass upstairs. Sofie went back with me to collect it. I think she worried someone would kidnap me in the elevator.

As we walked down the hall toward the door, it opened. Out came Faux Rebecca with his grandfather. The kid totally acted like he'd never seen us before in his life. He looked everywhere but at us--up at the ceiling, to the right, at the floor. His grandfather bid us a good evening. I answered, and then couldn't resist adding a little something.

Me: "Night Rebecca. Thanks for teaching us pool."

The kid left his eyes toward the ceiling and walked right past us. Sofie and I barely held in our laughter. 

As they turned the corner, the grandfather asked Faux Rebecca if he knew those people, and as calm as can be in his adult no-nonsense tone, the kid flat-out lied.

Faux Rebecca: "No, I don't know them."

I am so going to next year's owner's meeting in person. 

Darcy Bday 2023

Darcy likes tradition. And she always plans her birthday celebrations. Family nights are spent at Outback Steakhouse. We always have a cookie cake. She sends out the invites every year. This year, we took up a good chunk of real estate in the Australian outback.

There was plenty of food and drink. A lot of laughter and love. Happy Birthday to the youngest. You make us smile every day, and we couldn't be more proud of the woman you've become. Safe travels to Alaska and Hawaii! Love you! 

Flooring part 2

I was at a writer's conference this weekend but called home to get an update on the flooring. What better time to do it than when I'm out of hubby's hair? 

Madison: "Not much has happened."

Me: "What does that mean."

Madison: "Exactly what it sounds like. He hasn't done anything."

He obviously needs me to crack the whip. I did this via another phone call. He hemmed and hawed. But when I returned home, he had started.

Tom: "It's a lot of work. Tedious."

Me: "You've done well. It looks great. The color is nice. Why isn't it done?"

Tom: "Ha! Funny."

He did a little bit each weeknight. The longer he worked, the easier it got. He ruined a pair of gloves and tore holes in his kneepads, but on Saturday, I kept him company, reading aloud from my WIP while he laid flooring. Never let it be said I didn't help.

By Sunday night, he only had a small portion left. He wanted to keep going but finally had to concede. The flooring was done Monday after he returned home from work. I spent the rest of the week putting everything back in the room. We are pretty darn happy with how it all turned out!

Next up - fixing the pool leak!

Flooring renovation 2023

House renovation project #5867 began today. While on hubby's list and not on mine, I agreed with his choice. The flooring in my Steelers room needed an upgrade. Our soon-to-be 14-year-old dog had done quite a number on it, not to mention the girls, and the carpet was past its prime.

The problem with projects is arriving on the same page. Hubby is good about deferring to me on color, but he does have his opinion. And that usually doesn't coincide with my own.

I recommended vinyl flooring. My friend SueG has it in her home. It's waterproof and looks nice. I reminded hubby that the dog was still with us and still making messes. He agreed to look at it. Thankfully, the merchants of these flooring places talked up the vinyl. It's very 2023.

We started with Lowe's. Like the paint department, we had two women helping us. We picked out a couple of samples to take home and scheduled an estimate, despite both women assuring hubby he could do the flooring himself. When I went to collect the final calculation, I discovered the flooring we wanted was no longer available. 

Say, what?

What are the odds? They gave us an estimate on our second choice and on one they thought we might like. We did not.

We went to a flooring place I happened upon while in the passenger seat of someone's car. It's down the road from Lowe's in a big blue building I've never noticed, even though they've been there for twenty years. The man was helpful, and we left with several samples. They were okay. Off we went to a store hubby had heard about from a co-worker.

It was a huge warehouse. They had so many options my head spun. The gentleman assisting us didn't like my first choice. He kept pointing me to one he thought would work. While I'm happy to take an expert's advice, especially regarding topics I'm unsure of, I was sure of the color of our doorway, door, and floorboards. I picked out something different.

We took it home, and Madison was the deciding factor. She went with me.

We bought the flooring. 

We also bought the tools necessary for a do-it-yourself project because everyone insisted that hubby could lay this floor. He wasn't so sure. 

Him: "I can probably do it, but there's the other stuff."

Me: "What other stuff?"

Him: "We have to remove the carpet that's in there. You don't know how hard that will be."

Me: "I watched them take it up the first time we replaced it. It's simple."

Him: "There could be issues, and we don't know what's underneath. There will be glue. How are we going to get that off? And there are tacks. Sharp and dangerous tacks. We have to clear out the room! Do you know how long that will take?"

I pooh-poohed every objection, insisting we could leap the hurdles. The very next day, I began clearing out the room. I used one of the office chairs to cart belongings to the entrance, where I then moved it to the guest room and the dining room. It took me two days, and then I had to enlist the help of hubby and Madison for the bigger items.

I insisted we ready the room for the project. 

Me: "Let's just pull up the carpet and see how hard it will be."

Tom: "The question is, where are we going to put the carpet if we do get it up? The garbage isn't going to take it."

Me: "Let's take it one step at a time."

With Oleg's help, the carpet was pulled up in ten minutes. I know because I timed it. 

We cut it into four strips, and it came right up. We rolled it, and then I suggested we call the dump. It was open and cost less than ten dollars for the carpet. Off went the men. I pulled up YouTube and watched a video on how to remove the tack strips. This guy suggested a shovel, so that's what I did. Unfortunately, the shovel method also pulled up some of the concrete, so I watched a video on how to remove the glue, and was in the middle of doing that when Darcy arrived.

Darcy: "Why are we doing this before we go to dinner? I look adorable, and now I'm going to have to change clothes to help."

Me: "It's not even noon."

She changed and joined me. When the men returned, one used the shovel and the other the tool Tom had bought for tack removal while Darcy and I got up the glue and swept behind them. Boom! Room cleared.

Next up - flooring!

Neighbors now and then

I rarely get on my personal Facebook anymore. It's way too angry. And very political and doesn't align with how I think or feel. I check in briefly every few weeks or so on my author's Facebook, although my author's social media presence is more on Instagram. I do, however, use Messenger. That connects to Facebook and is open on my computer for author-related work.

Recently, I got a message from my personal Facebook from an old neighbor. She and her husband were traveling and had family in the area where she thought I lived. She asked if I'd be interested in meeting with them. I said I would.

We haven't seen each other in over thirty years. 

Mary lived down the street from us, right by our bus stop. We were both on the city swim team together. We were friends. I remember riding our bikes and playing at each other's houses. The last time I'd heard about her was from her parents after my father died. Her mother gave me her information. I put it in my back pocket and then laundered the pants. 

Luckily, Facebook hooked us back up. 

She and her husband spent the day with me. They took me to dinner. It was like we hadn't been apart. We caught up on each other's lives and laughed. Oh, my, how we LAUGHED. It was as if time hadn't marched on. It was so much fun!

Here's to keeping in touch! If you've been wondering about meeting up with someone you share a history with, big or small, and you haven't kept in touch, do it. You'll find that history binds you and in a way that makes all the other stuff disappear. And the laughter! That alone is worth it!

Resolutions 2023 - four month check

It's check-in time. I've changed my scoring to 0-2 for each month. Hopefully, by the end of the year, I'll have a total of 12 for completion. A score of 2 means I worked on it each month. 

Personal Goals:

• Paint my home space - My ceilings haven't been painted since we first moved in. My living room and my hallway need an overhaul. My bedroom could use it too, but that isn't as important as the first two. - COMPLETED - Bam! Done! Finished. Score: 2

• Entice Tom to build my shelves to display my playing card collection - I collect playing cards. I need somewhere to display them, and Tom drew out plans for what I found on Etsy. He claims he can knock it out, "don't waste your money." Once I get the paint done, this comes next. - He isn't easy to convince. - Score - 0

• Travel - Can't let those Wyndham points go to waste. - I didn't travel, but it's coming! Score - 0

• Lower my cholesterol - I retake it in May or June. - I am doing well. Score 2

• Exercise/Healthy eating habits - This goes with the above, but I do need to shed some weight for my own mental health, not to mention the flip side of the coin. - Doing well with the exercise. Still eating better. - Score - 2

• Catch up on my blog - Writing has kept me from this. My readers are complaining. I need to catch up! - Sort of - Score 1

Total - Total 7 out of 12 - But I've completed a task!

Blueberry Picking 2023

April means blueberries in Florida. Tom and I took Oleg's family to the farm for some picking yesterday. It was hot. We lasted an hour and collected roughly twelve pounds or so. Nikita and I paired up to pick, and as we passed this forested area, I commented on avoiding areas like that in Florida.

Him: "Why?"

Me: "That's just a haven for gators and snakes."

Him: "Really, Cara? Really?"

I assured him I knew what I was talking about, and several minutes later, his mother and grandmother appeared by our sides with evidence. They had a video of a gator that walked right in front of them in that same area. 

I do not need fresh blueberries enough to run into a gator. Thankfully, we were at the end of the hour, and after checking out the spartan blackberry plants, we hightailed it to the car. 

Out of the mouths of my babes

Next on Tech Guy's To-Do List was repairing and sealing the flat roof. He did this himself. Oleg helped on Saturday. They were sweating when they both came down after spending a couple of hours in the hot sun. Tech Guy was wearing a black shirt.

Me: "Why would you wear a black shirt in the sun on the roof?"

Him: "Why wouldn't I?"

Me: "Darcy, look at your dad. He wore a black shirt to repair the roof in this hot weather."

Darcy: "Yeah, well, I can't fix stupid."

Easter 2023

I contacted the Bunny earlier to ensure Easter was as fun as last year's when I brought fun to the PA household where I spent the holiday. Oleg and his family were bringing Ukraine traditions. It would be an excellent mixing of cultures.

I awoke early. The Easter Bunny met me outside for last-minute preparations.

Once everyone arrived (Darcy was working and not there), we held the Easter scavenger hunt paring "children" against "adults." I needed one of my family members on each team, but Tom was not as helpful as I intended. Example: they figured out the clue was on the fence.

Tom: "Now we just have to figure out how to get out there."

Steph: "Yeah, he wasn't with it."

After the treasure eggs were collected, we rolled the dice. Eggs were passed back and forth until the last turn. The golden eggs carried better prizes, but no one left empty-handed.

Next, we hunted for eggs. That took considerable time, and we still have not found about six eggs as of the last count. I told everyone that is one of our traditions.

From there, we played a crack-the-egg game from Ukraine. Oleg's family decorated eggs using colorful napkins wrapped around egg white slathered hard-boiled eggs. Much better to eat afterward than dyed eggs.

We hit one another's eggs, and whoever's egg didn't crack moved on. It came down to tech guy and Steph. The tech guy won.

We had a Steph charcuterie board, a honey-baked ham dinner, and a delicious traditional Ukrainian Easter cake to wind down the festivities. We also forgot to photograph our table. That is usually Darcy's job. 

Two days later, Maggie and I found three missing Easter eggs. A week later, in PA, Steph found one of the missing eggs from 2022! 

Keeping the tradition alive.

PA comes to FL

PA Steph and her daughter Maggie, the most recent to be under the care of Nanny Cara, traveled to Orlando with friends for spring break. Before they left, Frontier Airlines credited Steph, and when she called to inquire why, they informed her that they'd canceled the flight home.

Uh?

So, they headed our way for four nights. We hit the beach to watch the sunset the first night.

I suggested we watch the sunrise the following day, and liking the idea, we rose at 6:30, got coffee and pastries from the local French bakery, and trooped down to get comfortable on the beach.

Then, we realized that the sun rises opposite of where it sets, which is behind the condominiums on our beach here on the west coast.

Tech Guy: "I thought it strange when you suggested it." 

My brother: "Do you not know how the sun works?"

Maggie: "You mean we could've slept in!!"

Steph and I had a good laugh. Then we enjoyed the morning peace, ate food, had our coffee, and left the beach at ten when everyone else arrived. We spent the rest of the day poolside while Maggie taught us how to make friendship bracelets. It became an obsession.

While we worked, we kept track of the Masters since Steph and her son are golfers. The weather kept interrupting the tournament, causing starts and stops, so we kept abreast of what was happening. During this, we had golfer discussions, and Steph kept pronouncing the word amateur as Am-a-der. 

It struck me odd, but as kids from IN, we always thought those PA people spoke weirdly. We pronounced it pin-cil. They said pen-cil.

But it drove Maggie crazy, and she finally erupted. She asked why her mother was saying it incorrectly. They argued. Steph told her to check the web, and we listened as the robot told us am-a-cher. 

Steph felt we needed a golfing expert, so I called my brother, who was driving home from his family vacation. He had plenty of time to discuss this topic.

Him: "I would say it depends on the part of the country you're from. For example, you just said torn-a-ment. I'm a hick from Indiana. We pronounce it turn-a-ment. But, if you're going with the golfing world, it's most often pronounced am-a-der. As in the U.S. Am-a-der."

Steph jumped out of her chair and danced around the pool deck!

That word, along with the friendship bracelets, became the theme for the weekend.

So much so that my new Etsy shop, where I will sell these bracelets, will now be called Am-a-der Hippies.

Out of the mouths of my babes

Me: "I told Oleg's brother I'd take him to a baseball game. He doesn't understand the excitement. I told him he had to watch it in person. I mean, don't you agree? You like going to the Rays' games."

Darcy: "No. I only went to play spot-the-cotton-candy-man. That's all I cared about. And when I knew we were going, I'd save up my daily 50 cents you gave us for the school snack locker because dad was good for one, maybe two cotton candy purchases, and I'd use that money for another."

Me: "That's terrible."

Darcy: "No, what's terrible is back then, it was $3.00. Now it's over $5."