Amy's Posts - Stories, Recipes, Photos & Ideas
I'm currently working on the fifth Kilty book... but Pineapple Port (who I was kind enough to write two in a row for...) is acting like a jealous lover. First of all, I moved to a neighborhood with an HOA, and one of the few approved lights is this one:
How could I not get it?
Remember my new friend Shelby? We watched Shelby plod away, exit stage left, yesterday... and then saw her reappearing stage right... That's when I realized the new creature wasn't Shelby, but another gopher turtle headed towards Shelby's house as fast as her little scaly legs could carry her. Drama! She crawled right into Shelby's hole as if she'd been lurking in the underbrush, watching, waiting for her to leave. Shelby was spotted later munching away on the greenery...I don't know what happened when she went home and found that vixen in her cave.
But he doesn't look happy, does she?
I'm in Jupiter, Florida!
#JupUp? (<--- this is a saying my husband thinks he's going to coin/popularize while he's down here. *eyeroll*)
Desperate to get away from the constant cleaning and scurrying away/hiding that comes with showing a house for sale, we packed up and officially moved to our new house in Jupiter, Florida. This is us in our empty house moments after we walked in after a 14 hour drive from Maryland - so we look smiley, but really we're about to collapse. It's our reflection in the 1980's wall-to-wall mirror that we need to have torn off the wall...and I'm showing my lack of selfie skills staring at the camera that is in front of my face but...eh.
I should have known better. I used local Ebay once before and the guy showed up to pick-up my enormous bureau, alone, with one arm. He weighed about seventy pounds soaking wet (it might have been eighty before the arm went missing). I mean, sorry about the wing clipping, but maybe give me a heads-up to have someone around or bring a friend? Instead, I dug deep for Hulk strength to help him get it in his truck.
I grew up on the beach and never thought twice about getting into the water as a kid. I was East Coast Editor of SURFER Magazine, and never hesitated to catch some tasty waves, dude. Then I moved farther inland for about twenty years and rarely found myself near an ocean.
And apparently, I left my nerve somewhere back on that last beach.
Because here I am again, living by the ocean thinking --- I can go swimming! Commune with nature!
My own baby, Gordon Labradoodle, passed away Dec. 6, 2017, which I never mentioned because I'm still a disaster over losing him. So, for over a year now, I've been getting my dog-fix by smothering every random pooch I pass with kisses, my voice rising to squeaky levels I think maybe only dogs can hear. (We're going to get a new baby, but at first, it was just too hard and now we've been in transition planning our move to Florida so we're holding off a bit.)
My realtor and now bestest-buddy here in Florida, Jill Geraci has helped me ease my dog-jonesing by letting me babysit her hamster, Harley. (She says it's a dog but I don't believe it.) Harley is about one full pound of adorable though. She's like a mini-Muppet came to life!
Pineapple Port, the 55+ community featured in my Pineapple Port Mysteries is a real place with a different name and I spent Christmas there this year with my mother-in-law (aka Mariska). Yesterday we drove around the community to check out the decorations, because, what's more Christmassy than that?! I thought I'd let you see what we saw, especially since I'm pretty sure I'll end up with a scene in a book where Charlotte is checking out Pineapple Port's decorations, and now you'll REALLY be able to picture them. :)
Mmm. Yum. I don't know if it will eat me before I eat it.
I've failed making bread two out of three times now. Seems you never really run out of ways to kill yeast. The first time I used too hot milk, and sent them screaming to their little yeasty deaths.
The second time I let the loaf prove too long thinking it would make it bigger. Instead, the yeasts didn't find the energy to do a second rise in the oven and I ended up with a loaf dense enough to use as a flak jacket. I hate wasting things, so I did my best to eat it as toast, cut thin enough to see through, but ultimately gave up and chucked it.
My husband and I were on our usual daily walk when Mike sensed a disturbance in the Force and whipped around. His expression was so odd I turned too, and we both spotted a cat with a tuft where a tail should be running at us full speed. It's not like a lion stalking across the Serengeti at you, but in a suburban neighborhood it can be unsettling when a strange cat has eyes for nothing but you.
As she grew closer and we muttered things like "Uh oh" and "This isn't good," she started meowing, which made her seem either less threatening or so desperate to rip out our throats she could barely stand it. We still didn't know which.
We were still rooted to our spots, resigned to our fates, when she started running figure eights through our legs and rubbing her face on my shins.
This year I decided I would plant everything we like to eat during the summer by seed, so when I bought an avocado and found myself rolling that smooth marble of a pit around in my palm, I thought--I'll plant this too!
I'm not what you call a green thumb to start out with. I inherited that from my mother, who could kill a bouquet of plastic flowers. Of the twenty tomato seeds I planted, I ended up with two viable stalks after the seedlings died one after the next. They took one look at me and thought, "Eh, why bother."