12 Oakdale

In the wee hours of Sunday morning, during one of his night bathroom trips, Grant stumbled. Somehow he grabbed the toilet seat. He was fine. The toilet seat was not: broken hinges. With our current supply chain still functioning, (one wonders what Our Dear Leader’s tariffs will do to that), he ordered a new one to be delivered that afternoon. Monday morning , I had a Windermere Garden Club board meeting, followed by an afternoon appointment with Julie, the outgoing Membership chair of Bloom and Grow Garden Society, whom I am replacing next year. I had just enough time between the two to stop by the house for lunch and to ask how the seat replacement was going. Medium. Grant was able to get one bolt unscrewed. The other was firmly in place, spinning with its anchor when he tried to remove it. He was watching videos about what to do.  When I returned just before dinner time, many videos had been watched, much turning of the screw (bolt) had happened, no progress had been made. Why ar...

Ryann and Patten came up Saturday installed the grab rails in our shower and next to the toilets. He had ordered them using my Amazon account, then switched out the screws for marine grade. I had used my measuring app to send pictures (yes, I’m proud I could do that.) I was nervous about their drilling in our glass shows tiles, but that was the easy part. Of course there weren’t studs where we needed them. Patten drilled a series of small holes from the bedroom side until he found one useable stud. Then he cut holes in the drywall so he could insert 2x4s where he needed to attach the grab bar. Always something. Patten also ordered a shower mat that I returned. Too big and heavy for us. I’ll get a smaller one this week. Lastly, he bought nonslip matting for under what he calls the murder rug, my Persian that I found at Naples beach after Hurricane Donna in 1960. It probably is why Grant fell since it was really slippery. I moved it to the guest bedroom. Closing the barn door after the h...

I ran out to get the newspaper, clad only in my nightie as usual. Our whole front yard was flooded, and water bubbled out a hole. A dang leak between the meter and the house. Back inside, I hurried to put on clothes and boots while yelling at Grant to get up and get dressed. I called the plumber, first his cell which went to voice mail, then his service which took my message that I needed him NOW. Grant told me to turn off the water to the house, which I did after tromping through our soggy front yard. That did nothing. I opened the meter box, full of water, and felt around for a valve. Nothing seemed to turn. A quick call to Kyle who said to bail out the meter box. Duh, I should have thought of that. Back to the house for a measuring cup, back to the meter to kneel and bail. I found the valve but I couldn’t turn it. A picture sent to Kyle. He said get a wrench. Duh, again. To the garage for the wrench. Success, I turned the water off. Well, that was exciting before coffee. Troy called...

Hurricane Isaias’ Projected Path   Hurricane Isaias (ees-ah-EE-ahs) blew over Puerto Rico and the Bahamas, then calmed to a tropical storm and skirted the Florida coast. Our big preparation was to move Magic, the giant inflatable unicorn toy I bought Clara for her birthday, from the pool deck to the living room, just in case we got a little bit of wind. (Yes, that was easier than deflating, then re-inflating Magic.) Magic, the Unicorn   I considered putting the straps around our porch umbrellas, but decided to wait for the wind, which never came. Grant put William in a box in the garage. He was concerned we might get lots of rain, and William’s pen would flood. The rain was almost a no-show too, certainly less than some of the downpours we’ve had last month. This certainly beats all the worry and work we did for hurricanes in Fort Lauderdale. I do not miss putting up shutters. But when it rains, it pours, or at least drips a leak in our garage. I’ve had three roofers out ...

Quietly tiptoe to the guest bathroom in the dark, which is still pretty light since it’s on the east side of the house, and the upper half of the plantation blinds are open. I can just see the sunrise between the houses across the way. Sit down, and hear a gentle splat to my right. A flat, black form has appeared on the wall next to me. Please, oh please, be a moth. Sure. The tree frog jumps on my chest, then leaps away, propelled by my shriek. Grant levitates from our bed, but I’m able to breath and yell I’m okay. Everyone survives; the frog is captured and released to the wild. Before  It may have joined us when I’d had the porch doors opened all day yesterday to put another coat of varnish on them. Spaulding came over Friday and sanded them with his electric sander. I’d offered to borrow it and do the sanding myself. He wisely realized I’d take all summer to get the 6 porch doors and the front door finished. He could knock out the porch doors in a couple of hours, then ta...