Breakfast Delight
One of the best things about breakfast is that we have all kinds of visitors at our backyard feeders. I love all the tiny little birds, but oh! the flashy splendor of the male cardinal!
A Strange Bird
I have multiple bird-feeders in my backyard, which give me delight, except for the squirrels. One day last week, I had NINE squirrels in my backyard, feeding from my squirrel-proof feeders. One climbs on and slips the cage, then turns it so it spills on the ground for the others. Well, squirrels have to eat, too, but I would love to have one or two feeders strictly for the birds.
One night last week, I had a huge racoon, turning over my flower pots, looking for roots and bulbs. Huge! The area where I live is so suburban, my heart broke, I wonder where he has any habitat to call his own?
And then this guy . . . I don’t know who or what he is. He is the only one of his kind ever to show up, and it was only once. I am guessing maybe he is migratory. He might be a duck.
Shoreline Foods in Pensacola
“Oh, it’s on Main Street!” our friend told us, “Or it used to be Main Street, but now part of it is Bayfront, or some such, but we all know it is Main Street.”
My resourceful daughter-in-law is always full of the best hints. She told us about a place she thought I would love, called Shoreline Foods, a grocery store, but the old fashioned kind, and Greek.
I’ve been trying to find it ever since, but as it turns out, I was looking in the wrong direction. I finally asked my friend who knows EVERYTHING; Shoreline Foods IS on Main, at Main and “E” St. very near to Joe Patti’s, just as she said.
From the outside, you would never know how special it is, it just looks like another strip mall kind of store, but lots of parking, always a good thing 🙂
They do carry groceries, and an entire aisle with spices you can’t find most other places, or not all in one place:
And they have a deli! With wonderful sandwiches!
Tantalizing desserts!
Kanafi is a Middle Eastern pastry, so hard it is to find, and here it is in Pensacola!
And for me, the very best part is this:
Here I am going to rant for just a little minute. Shopping for olive oil in the USA is the total pits. Even the “best” olive oils, when you read their labels, say that the oil comes from “Spain, Argentina and Tunisia” or some such. Blends. It gives you no guarantee that one month the oil is the same as the next month, or the quality of the oils they are using.
I challenge you! Go to your grocery store and look for an olive oil that tells you it is from one country! Even the specialty shops; few of them have single point of origin olive oils! But at Shoreline Foods, they import an olive oil from Crete (Greece) which is green and fruity and tasty! You can buy it by the litre, or half litre, or the gallon. 🙂 Even better, you can bring your own container and fill it in the shop.
When I lived in Tunisia, I used to do that. Go to the olive oil man (first make sure he has had a delivery; like an oil truck pulls up and fills his barrel) and then grab your container and go stand in line with all the maids until he will fill your container. At Shoreline Foods, there was no line, but lovely lovely olive oil from Crete! I am in heaven!
Hard Freeze in Pensacola
At least the sun is shining . . .
It was actually only 23 degrees when I got up this morning . . . brrrrrrrr!
The Gauntlet
Today dawned clear and beautiful after a day of rain yesterday. It’s a good thing, today I ‘run the gauntlet,’ i.e. I make my run to the military facilities.
It’s across town. Across town in Pensacola is a piece of cake – it’s not like trying to get across Doha, or across Kuwait City; you’re not stuck forever on the ring roads with the arrogant and the rude and the inconsiderate-at-best or even worse – the oblivious.
No, it’s a mere fifteen minutes of sedate driving. I go to the hospital pharmacy, and IF they have the medication I have prescribed, they will fill it – for free. I fill my tank; gas is cheaper and there is no tax. I pop by the Navy Exchange to pick up my expensive hope-in-a-bottle, which is cheaper there. No tax. And now . . . sigh . . . it is time to go to the commissary.
I don’t go that often. While I can find most things there, it can be hit or miss. Prices are better, and there are no taxes, but it isn’t Publix. When you go to check out, everyone waits in one long snakey line, and one at a time, as a cashier becomes available, they check you out. It isn’t that bad. As a process, it goes fairly quickly.
Although the prices are pretty good and there is no tax, you are obligated to tip the bag people who bag and carry out your groceries, and there is a surcharge added onto your bill to cover commissary operation costs. I still think overall we save money.
No, the reason I dread the commissary is the other customers. These are military people and former military people, these are MY people! And they are rude! The aisles are crowded with scowling, aggressive people. The older they are, the worse they are! You think of older people being kindly and polite, but something is wrong with this picture at the commissary, where so many are pushy and rude and look at you like ‘get out of my way!’ I try to stay out of their way, but there are so many of them!
Actually, I try to stem the tide of ill-will by being particularly polite and cheerful. I’m not sure it does much good. Sometimes cheerfulness only seems to make cross and crabby people crosser and crabbier.
On the way to the car, I was chatting with the bagger, and he told me this year was fairly mellow, not like last year.
“What happened last year?” I had to ask.
“Oh, last year they put turkeys on sale,” he responded as he loaded the bags into the back of the car. “Even though you were only allowed to buy two, some people were cheating and buying more, and a couple fist-fights broke out.”
Fist fights? In the commissary? Over turkeys? And who has room in their freezers for more than one turkey?
I resolve not to make another trip to the commissary until I absolutely have to.
Things Get Done
As many of you who know me may know, I am mildly obsessive-compulsive. I like things to be in their designated space. I like a clean house, down to the baseboards and the hidden places. I suppose it gives me some mystical illusion of control in a world where there is little (I believe) that can be controlled.
I believe my faith is pragmatic; I have learned – at least in my life – that God is in control, and that his plans are far better than my plans, although when I am in the midst of chaos, I have problems clinging to that belief, LOL.
But he sends me messages. As I have ended the old year and started the new year in a frenzy of cleaning out and organizing, I have come across lists from nightmare times in my life, mostly getting ready to move or settling in to a new location. Lists and lists of things to be done, things to be checked on . . . and I am comforted to know that what – at the time – was overwhelming, the details sorted themselves out. Things got done. Little by little, we ate the elephant.
As I came across notes and lists this morning, for buying this house and getting settled in Pensacola, I was able to take a deep breath. We survived. We got it all done. Lists and lists of details, and we got it all done. All of a sudden, things assume their proper perspective, and I thank God for this view of what my life looked like a year ago compared to what it looks like today.
We are settled.
I have friends.
We can pay our bills.
We have a house to live in and cars to drive.
We are in good health, and we have a good doctor.
We have a place where the Qattari Cat can stay when we go out of town.
We are registered voters, and have driver’s licenses and pay our taxes on time (insh’allah.)
We have a strong and rewarding family life, and activities we enjoy.
Life is sweet.
The Gift
AdventureMan and I used to have lavish Christmases, trying to delight one another, and we did. One year, I bought his some crystal goblets he had been admiring, and some years I was able to add to his collection. One year, he bought me a Mont Blanc pen, which I adored, and another year two beautiful salad serving bowls with irises in them. (I still have them and delight to use them.)
This year, he gave me the best gift of all. I was working on a committee in our church, helping to make sure children we had volunteered to sponsor in the Salvation Army angel program received gifts of clothing and a toy or bike or age-appropriate gift. There were a few children at the end who had not found sponsors, but other people had chosen to donate cash or checks in lieu of sponsoring a child.
As we were getting ready for church, AdventureMan told me he had an idea for my Christmas gift, but he wanted to run it by me.
“How about if I make a donation to the Angel Tree, to help sponsor the kids who don’t have sponsors?”
He took my breath away. He can still do that.
We are not rich, we are modestly comfortable. We have always lived within our means, and placed a high value on saving. We have a comfortable home, enough to eat, and we keep our spending under control so that we even continue to grow our savings a little while we are now ‘retired.’ There is nothing I need for Christmas.
I’m still grinning from the grandness of his gift; the delight it continues to give me every time I think about it.
The Salvation Army has one of the lowest rates of administration funds to charitable funds of all the charities in America. They make every dollar you donate squeak, they work it so hard. They feed the poor, they give hope to children, they comfort the homeless and veterans, and they counter pornography and human trafficking (Yes. It happens in America, too.)
To find out how you can help this organization which helps so many, so generously, just click on the blue type Salvation Army and it will take you to their home page. There are many options for giving, including donations, giving of your time and energies as a bell ringer, or working with them in a variety of human services.
FollowUp To Pensacola Christmas Parade
Seen in local Pensacola grocery store:
Underwear Rules
“I can’t believe the things you talk about in the locker room!” AdventureMan exclaimed, “we (meaning the men in the men’s locker room) never have those conversations.”
No. They talk about what they did in the military, they talk about aches and pains.
We women talk about everything.
I had just told AdventureMan about my new revelation. The woman next to me in the locker room told me about her system. She hangs her underwear on a rack in her laundry room, which is next to her garage. When she is heading out the door to go to water aerobics, she just grabs her underwear off the rack and heads out the door.
“You can do that?” I thought to myself. I might have even said it out loud. It was a whole new way of thinking for me.
What about underwear rules? What about the rule that says you are supposed to take things out of the dryer or off the rack and fold them up and put them away? Isn’t that like a law or something? I think – I used to think – it was like one of God’s laws, but now I am thinking maybe it was one of my Mom’s laws.
I feel so free! My laundry room is also next to my garage. LLOOLL! I can grab underwear on my way out, too! Wooo HOOOOOOO!
The Pensacola Christmas Parade
“Do you know they are expecting over fifty thousand people??” my friend asked me over the phone. I had suggested we meet up. “I didn’t know there were fifty thousand people in Pensacola!”
She was going, but we probably would not see one another. My son and his family were meeting me at the church and we would watch together.
I have never seen a Christmas parade like it in my life. For one thing, the weather is perfect. It is cool enough for long sleeves, even a sweater, some Pensacolans were all bundled up. No rain – I understand last year the parade was rained out. No snow – it’s been really cold all week, and it’s going to be cold again tomorrow, but today – and tonight – were perfect.
“Where will we meet?” my son asked when he called.
“I’m leaving now; meet on the steps of the church” I answered. “See you there.”
* * * *
“I’m here, but not on the steps, across the street, under the tree right in front of the school” I left a message.”
“Mom! Where are you?”
“I’m by the school under a tree – wait, I can see you, I’m waving, I’m waving!” and finally he saw me, and we all had our little space.
It was a great space for viewing the parade. A great place for a little 9 month old Happy Baby, who loved the sirens and the police and the flashing lights, and the bark on the tree. He had a ball, and then he was tired.
Here is what is hilarious. It was not a great place for parade activity. I’ve never seen a parade like this, but this is very Pensacola, or so I’ve been told. First, this is the least ‘politically correct’ parade ever. It was wonderful! Floats full of Marys and Josephs and little baby Jesus, and shepherds and angels, marching evangelists carrying bible verses – LLOOLLL, a big thumb of the nose at secularity. This town celebrates the Nativity!
The Holy Bible Float:
The sign-carrying evangelists:
The Krewe of Pompeii Float (Krewes are local social groups that form to celebrate Mardi Gras)
Krewe of YaYas Float:
Did you notice something in all those photos? Did you notice all the hands up?
Did you see all those hands up? It took me a while, but I finally figured it out, all these people want beads! And Santas are throwing beads, and angels are throwing beads, and the Blue Angels are throwing beads, and . . . Joseph and Mary are throwing beads!
I had made a strategic mistake! The woman next to me had 15 or 20 beads, all kinds and all colors, and I was busy taking photos, and I had none. I then also noticed that I was under a tree, and the tree was catching beads that should have been mine!
Time to get serious. I put the camera away and started waving with the rest.
My treasures:
Big Wooo HOOO on me; every kid in Pensacola has like seven hundred beads, but I have my start, I have two! LLOOLL, next parade, I have my priorities. No more photos. Beads!
If you want to have a really good time, come to Pensacola for one of the liveliest and most fun parades I have ever attended.
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