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This is a reverse amnesia story.
January 21 2018

This is what’s behind the freaking Texaco Station off highway ten in Puerto Rico!  As you can see, The Boy told an untruth about the pictures scenario…

Okay, these are the spiky things he told me he took in the pre-cave.  Yup, terribly interesting, huh?

Here’s the hole in the ground that the guy climbed out of.  BTW, those roots that disappear into it?  Those are what you hang on to – to descend.


This – this is what awaits the brave and daring behind the second Texaco station to the left on Highway ten in Puerto Rico!

The vista from the hole.  No ropes – no tourist guide – no nothing.

But hey, The Boy didn’t totally disappoint me.  There were some questionable pictures this time too. 😉  Like this one, for instance:

Hmm..yes, I’m going to have to pull the snow globe out… 🙂


The Boy’s away and I miss him. (He went to visit our Girlie-girl in Puerto Rico before she sails up the coast. Consequently, he’s been staying with the crew on a tall ship for a few days)

Here’s why he’s missed…


The Boy: “I made it here just fine, but they sat me next to a guy who looked like he swallowed Hulk Hogan.”

“Me: “Huh.”

Him: “He also smelled like pickles.  By the time I got off the flight I had a hankering for a ham and Swiss on rye, but all I found were tacos.”

Me: thinking he’s such a freak, but asking to be polite. “It’s nice down there?”

The Boy: “Yeah, it’s okay, but I don’t think there’s any AC in my cabin.”

Me: No thinking about it.  He was gonna be one HOT freak – and I mean that – not in a good way this time. 😉


The Boy: “Had a great day today.”

Me: “Awesome! You took pictures right?” ->->And you all know I’m thinking they better not be of architecture.

The Boy: “Of course.  You know Girlie-Girl though, we’re in the rainforest following the public paths and she says, ‘Dad, over here – I found the best waterfall and cliff this way.’ So, there I was, sneaking under the ropes and trekking down the brush to see.”

Me: “She is her mother’s daughter.”

The Boy: Drunk with distance between us.  “Tell me about it.  When I complained about being tired she called me a pansy ass and made me walk another two miles.”

Me: *relieved sigh* my work with her is done.


The Boy: Another wonderful day!  We saw some ruins and this old church.  Then we had lunch at this little bistro place.  The waiter talked Girlie-girl into ordering the soup de jour and when it came she realized what it was – cow’s tongue.”

Me: “Disgusting.”

The Boy: “Yeah, I know.  She refused to eat the tongue and just sipped on the broth.”

Me: unable to resist.  “You did tell her that the broth was made from soaking that tongue -Which just yesterday, was licking a  bull’s ass, right?”

The Boy: Laughs.  “Hey, I tried it, it wasn’t so bad.”

Me: Thinking. Hmm.. That’s what you think,  don’t count on Frenching with me ever again.


The Boy: Very animated.  “What a day.  I tell you.”

Me: “Okay, tell me.”

Him: “Well we started off with a plan.  Girlie-girl said we had to see this cave that’s off Highway ten behind the Texaco Station.”

Me: thinking. Um, random.  So, I’m silent and he knows why.  You see, The Boy isn’t the only one in the family that brings home magic beans on occasion.  The Girlie-girl has been known to sow a few. 🙂 After a lengthy pause I say,  “Go on.”

Him: Well, I have a car full of guys (no surprise there – The Boy is like the pied piper) and we head off down highway ten.  We’re going and going and I’m ready to turn around when I see this Texaco Station up ahead.  No shit, it’s in the middle of nowhere.  I pull in and there’s an old guy on a rocker – just like in the movies.   I ask him if the cave is behind the station and says no, it’s at the next one.  So, I’m like, you’re kidding right?  There’s no cave – this is a tourist punk or something.  He assures there is – so off we go.  Another few miles and bingo.  There’s another Texaco Station and as we pull in – we see people coming from behind the building.”

Me: “No.” He’d been talking so long I figured I insert a break. 🙂

Him: “Yes.  We head around back, go down this embankment and it looks like something out of Indiana Jones.  There’s this big hole in the center of a cliff – so we get there and head inside.  There we are taking in the bats, and spiky points overhead, when a guy comes up through a hole in one corner and tells us that – where we were – wasn’t the cave at all.  The cave was actually through the hole in the ground.  So that’s where we went.  It was the most awesome thing I’d ever seen.  Once we got down there and trekked to the end there was an opening that was about 150 feet wide and 200 feet high – below was a river gorge.  The drop was about 1500 feet. We were there all by ourselves.  No ropes, no tourist guides – no gate. Nothing.

Needless to say he gushed on for another ten minutes and when he was done I asked: “So, you got pictures right?”

Silence and then he swears: “Oh, for fuck sake!  I took pictures of the spiky points on the ceiling of the pre-cave, does that count?”

Me.  “No.  No it doesn’t.”

This is defiantly a snow globe moment guys. Please excuse me while I go shake up the sucker.


I never would have believed something like this could happen, but it did.  So, instead of getting madder I’ll just blog about it. 🙂

Here’s the situation: A new neighbor moved into the house that’s behind ours, but off on a diagonal (so not directly behind).  Anyway, he moves in and the first weekend in his new home he sets out to cut down all the trees on his property.  I thought it was a shame. I knew it was against city ordinance but hey, in the end it’s his place and if he wants to live in a desert-like environment who am I to judge?

Unfortunately something bad happened.  Our new neighbor went to the corner of our property and took a chainsaw to one side of our trees (presumably because the branches were growing over his property line).  At first I actually felt bad for the guy because I knew when The Boy got home and found out what had happened there would be hell to pay.  I figured I could save some bloodshed if I went over and spoke to the guy first.  By the time I got over there however, a County permits official had already visited, so when he answered his door he was spitting fire.  He accused me of calling them. Two minutes into meeting the Jackass I wished had.  Needless to say, things didn’t go well.  I can, um, be worse than The Boy when provoked and he was provoking. Oh, yeah.  And right there and then he was off the list.  Dead to me.

When The Boy got home and I conveyed all that happened he was smart enough to know there was nothing he needed to do because when someone’s off my list they know it. Case closed and if the guy had any brains at all he would have steered clear of me and our property line until the end of days. *sigh* Just my luck. The guy not only prove to be an a-hole, but he was a stupid one at that.

Not two weeks after the tree incident he’s out cutting his grass and he comes across a fence board which had fallen off our JOINT fence and was now on his lawn. (I concluded that it had been knocked off when he was trimming those heavy branches off OUR tree) but that point’s immaterial.  It’s what he did next that caused me to go ballistic.  He picked the board up and tossed it over the fence yelling about how this was on his property.  It hit my stag-horn fern (that some of Steven King’s harem live in) cutting it in two and knocking one of the napping squirrels to the ground.  Not that this was enough to boil my blood (the plant would regrow and the squirrel was okay) but, it was the fact that Madge had just stepped back from trimming it and could have been hit.  I was livid.  So, when The Boy comes home and I tell him about this latest development he’s thoughtful for a few minutes.

After his lengthy pause he says in this quiet voice, “I spoke to that guy last week and he was complaining about the age of the fence.”

Me stunned.  “Are you #!*&ing kidding me???”

The Boy patient.  “No, but I think he’s right.  It is time to change the fence.”

Me… “What???”

The Boy smiling,  “Leave it with me.”

When I saw him smile and wink I knew he had a plan. 😀 So I did.  Less than a week later, I waited and watched as the new fence was installed.  When 90% of the fence was in place I worried that he was going to give Mr. Sh*t-for-brains what he wanted until I saw The Boy himself sweating over a piece of the old fence.  Yep, it wasn’t until I saw the guys carry this ancient piece of haphazardly constructed fence panel to the corner of the property that it hit me. 

The Boy’s an evil genius!

So here’s the deal.  We have a gorgeous new shadow-box fence while Mr. S’s side (thanks to his over aggressive trimming of OUR trees) is left staring at what we’ve dubbed the hillbilly reckoning.  His portion of fence looks like it’s missing a few teeth. Now to be fair, The Boy did shore it up though.  Really, really good.  Yes, there’s no way any of those Swiss cheese boards are going to fall off now.  Nope, The Boy made sure to use a plethora of nails and staples so Mr. S  will be able to enjoy his unobstructed view of said hillbilly fencing  for many, many years to come.

I love The Boy!



big balls

And another mystery solved.  For those of you who have been reading my blog for awhile, you probably know who and what Steven King is, so for those of you who don’t –  He’s an obnoxious, pain-in-my-freaking-ass, harem keeping squirrel. <- Did I miss anything? 😉 Who haunts my backyard with his infernal presence.  (Actually, he climbs over our pool screen and tries to pee on our heads when we have the nerve to go outside – which is a lot btw, because, well, it is Florida, ya know?)

See? This is most days at our place:

So, imagine my surprise last week, when Honey shoots out of the house yelling, clapping his hands, and waving his arms.  Just to fill you in, Honey rarely ever yells.  Nope, he has this dark look, vibe, thing that works good for him when he’s mad – hence the no yelling and yet..?

So, I go out there to see what’s going on, but by now he’s turned and running back into the house calling to me that he needs a flashlight.  I stepped out of his way as he jogs past.  Clearly something bad just happened.  After he returns with the light and spends ten minutes climbing through brush, bristles, bushes,  and (I’m convinced an ancient Seminole burial ground) at the back of our property – delving deep into a place I don’t even let our dog go into *insert EBGB shudder here*  I find out that the resident hawk swooped down and chased Steven off one of our tall pine trees.  Truthfully, if not for the Honey’s intervention good ole’ Steven would have been Hank’s (that’s what we call the hawk) lunch.  Having saved the furry bastard from one death Honey was worried Steven had suffered another because he did tumble quite a good distance to the ground. Yet after much searching, it seemed Steven had disappeared.  Aww…

A few days goes by and I tell Honey that Steven is most likely okay and probably just relocated because Hank was upping the trying-to-live-stakes around here.  Honey didn’t say too much to that, which I found odd, but not as odd as me missing the noisy, twitchy bugger (that would be Steven – not Honey) 😉 And then I noticed something strange.  I noticed Honey leaving the house every morning through the garage.  He’s never done this before – huh.Yesterday morning I quietly followed along behind him because he walked purposeful, like he was on a mission or this was a ritual or something.  I watched him go through the garage, stop at Madge’s treat box (that’s a magical garden container that holds her smuggled in birdseed, peanuts and sunflower seeds that Honey is not supposed to know anything about) Hmm.. I watch.  Was that a bottle of water in his hand?  Yes, it was and then I see him reach into Madge’s stash and grab a handful of peanuts.


I tip-toe out to the side yard and stop dead in my tracks.  Honey’s crouched down on his haunches. He’s reaching into the bushes – he’s…Holy Spawn of Satan! He’s filling Steven’s water dish and lining his dinner plate (which was one of my salad plates-btw) with peanuts.  WTF?

Okay, so I’d like to say I was mad that Honey ruined my china – but I wasn’t.  In fact, at that moment Honey was more handsome to me than the day I met him – and don’t tell him, but the day I met him I, like, melted – so this was big. Without saying a word, I left the two of them alone.  Clearly they’d done some kind of male bonding thing.  Nice.

I probably would have continued walking on air for the rest of the day – if I hadn’t popped out there to see how poor Steven was doing a few hours later – only to discover he was gone.  Had he recovered so quickly?  I didn’t think so.  The damned furry bastard!  It seems he knows when he’s got a good thing going on.  Sheesh!

There I was this morning , waiting until Honey finished practically hand feeding the little faker. I stood back and quietly watched as Steven ate and drank his fill after Honey left.  Watching to see what he was up to.   A few minutes goes by and then the little B headed over to the neighbor’s oak tree and systematically start screwing his girls on it. Wow.  The nerve!  I was going to tell Honey, that Steven was screwing more than his harem, but then I saw the nimble little guy pounce on our neighbor’s screen.  I heard the neighbor shout and realized Steven had found a new house to haunt.


Riley – Ready to keep this under her hat because she be happy with the new arrangement. 😉


Well, not totally speechless, because otherwise I wouldn’t be blogging about this. 🙂

Does anyone else have a spouse that brings home magic beans?  I can’t be alone in this.  I mean, I always strive to be unique, but if this is what’s going to set me apart from ordinary – no thanks!

Over this past weekend I sent The Boy on a mission.  He was to go see our son and take pictures of the home the kid just bought. I couldn’t get away to do this myself as my 84 year-old children can’t be left alone and no one was available to stay with them – so I sucked it up and asked that The Boy do this.  And he did…sort of.

Me: “So you had a great time?  The house is nice?  Did you get pictures?”
The Boy: He hands over the camera and says: “Yep.”
Me: “Awesome!” I race to my computer to download them.  I can’t wait.  I’m staring at the bars bleeping as they load. Urging them to hurry.  “Come on. Come on!”  And when they do my heart sinks.  It can’t be.  Nooooo!
The Boy: Leans down and peers at the image. “That’s the crown molding in the family room.”
Me: Speechless…Here’s the shot in question:

The Boy: “Click to the next one.
Me: I do.
The Boy: “That’s the ceiling in the dining room.”
Me: “Unbelievable!”
The Boy: “It’s a nice room.”
Me: Turning on him.  “And how would I know that?”
The Boy: Points. “There’s the picture.”
Me: “Of the ceiling.” I click through the three – count them – three other shots and sigh.  “You didn’t take a picture of the front of the house, the backyard, or the kitchen?”
The Boy: “No, but I took a picture of the neighborhood.”
Me: Ready to strangle him.

Men!  I asked for pictures of the house and he brought me home magic beans.  Worse?  I posted the ceiling picture on a family site and one of the comments was: ‘Wow, great shot.  Makes you feel like you’re in the room.’  WTF???

I just can’t win.  But hey, you wanna feel like you’re standing in my son’s dining room?

Knock yourselves out.


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