My first visit to Vizcaya was surprising because the day before I’d gotten a tattoo of an Auspice Maria. Inside the house, above one of the massive gates… well, it’s a horrible angle but there it is, a beautiful tribute to our Lady.
After reading about James Deering, the owner of the property, his influences of Italian Renaissance and Mediterranean Revival architecture make perfect sense.
Here it is! My crazy hair is in the way, but then I just mowed the lawn.
I’m one of the hapless who have manged to reach the age of 65 without a smidgen of wisdom.
Oh, I know stuff. Mostly useless. I know that if you have an infection, soak the offending digit/limb in salt water. Well, it has worked for me.
I still remember how to do things from long ago, like tack a horse up. Conversely, I took three years of German in high school yet can’t recall how to count to 10 in the language. Use it or lose it!
Here’s a bit of knowledge learned in the past year for those turning 64:
Move. Change your phone number. Get a guard dog. Perhaps some razor wire.
Little did I know that upon reaching 64 things would become so bizarre. I’m a hermit by nature so when people started knocking on my front door all my feral instincts had me hiding behind the blinds. Of course, that does little to deter salesmen, so my jaunts out to the mailbox became littered with landmines. It comes as a jolt when someone springs from a nearby car and yells “Pam! Can I talk to you about Medicare Part B?”
My phone rang almost every day of the year with sales calls and the mail was full of color flyers. Each salesperson had the best plan and I just had to hear it right then!!
Oh, I told each one that I didn’t need them, that I had everything was in order. Didn’t deter them a bit!
Happy Birthday to me!! Thank goodness I’m finally 65. And I never thought I’d say that…
If not ill or depressed I laugh… a lot. It’s my nature. But my sister in law, who is also the BFF, does not. Hardly ever, in fact. Well, unless she sees a video of someone falling. The sort of stuff that makes me cringe. Natural gigglers like myself can have a hard time with non-gigglers.
So I set out to make her laugh.
First, I sent this picture and wrote “I picked this flower for you”.
She replied: “NICE WEED”.
Not put off at all, the next day “Badger helping me clean up the patio” (it’s horrid, no? lots of work left to do if anyone wants to raise their hand?):
No reply at all. Now that’s just rude. At least say something about the dog’s overly long nails. (A personal peeve of hers)