I also maintain a Writing Blog that you may find very interesting.

Introduction to My Pets (or Who Actually Runs Our House)

We have three pets. A Sun Conure parrot, Bailey, and two Champion American Hairless Terriers, Aryn and Reubyn.

December 23, 2024

We’ve had Bailey since 2005 and he decided to fly into our backyard and try to land on me one evening in Spring. He (At that time we didn’t know if it was a he or a her) hung around that night, and nibbled on some dog kibble and drank some water we provided for him when he landed on our fence. That was a close as we could get to him. We took lots of pictures and started to gears in motion to find his owner.

The next morning he was still hanging around the yard, flitting from tree to bush, following me around the yard as I walked my dog, Jack, while he did his morning business. He even got up on the gutter of the house an stayed there, above the pool door of the house. So, I decided to drive to the pet store near the house. I asked if they lost a bird, the answer was “no”, and so I purchased a mid-sized cage and some Sun Conure parrot food. (After getting an identification from the pictures from a parrot expert friend.) It was very easy to lure the parrot from the rain gutter, to the bush, to the lanai, patio table, and into the cage. Then the real work started. I called breeders, bird hospitals, pet stores, zoos, Busch Gardens, we even checked lost and found in the newspapers. No one claimed him. So, we took him to an Avian vet and discovered he only weighed 56 grams, while ideal weight is 110 grams. He had kidney disease, was a fully functioning adult, and when the DNA results returned, male. Of course, they could not determine his age, as it’s near impossible once they become an adult. The life span of a Sun Conure is 80 years. He has been everywhere with us, on vacations to the Florida Keys and being evacuated for hurricanes. He’s flown with us in our small airplane. Did I mention that Sun Conure parrots are the loudest parrots in the world? No? Well, guess what, they are.

The next pet to ride in our airplane was Aryn. We flew to North Carolina to pick her up from the breeder and flew back home to Florida with us. Aryn loved to fly. She enjoyed looking out the window. Even on commercial flights, she wanted to look out the window. She was our first venture into AKC showing dogs. We have co-owners who took over all of that for us, and we were eternally grateful. That’s what they did and were happy doing it. Aryn did very well, and retired as a Champion. We had intended on breeding her after she became a champion, but she’s a small dog, with delicate features. We felt that she was too petite to go through a pregnancy and birth.

So, since we didn’t get to breed her, we had that opportunity to get a puppy from our co-owners from their next litter. We ended up getting the only male from the litter, Reubyn. He was a mellow fellow, so different than hurricane Aryn growing up. He showed well, and grew strong and solid. There is talk of possibly breeding him, but he’s still young. He just turned four years old this year.

Aryn is definitely the Alpha in the house. She runs the place. When Aryn isn’t happy, nobody is happy. LOL

We love our babies and they truly are our babies. We adore then and they are a complete part of our family. They fly with us. They travel with us. Our schedules work around theirs. Because of my many health issues, I am home most of the time, so their needs are met on a daily basis.

They have a very good life. They sleep with us, as well. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. We love them completely.

Math, PVC, and Christmas Lights – Memoir of a Christmas Past

December 28, 2024

What is wrong with my blog title? Nothing if you ask my husband. At this moment I’m sitting in the front yard watching my husband attempt to create a tree of lights. He’s suspending the cacophony of light strings from a high limb over sixteen feet high on a tree in our front yard.

See anything wrong with this picture?

I’m not finished yet. He just asked me “how does this angle look?”  As if I know better than the doohickey he’s using to measure the angle of the string of lights as he pulls it from center and stake it into the ground.

That’s right. Each string of lights must stretch to the exact same angle from its anchor high in the air. Measured precisely with a doohickey.

How does the math come in? Dear hubby calculated with his mind and iPad how high the strings needed to be to give the lights the exact angle that would create the perfect “tree” or in math terms a cone of lights.  

So, before he figured the exact height he was raising and lowering the strings of lights. Each time having to wrap the excess rope around the very wide trunk of the tree.

Up go the lights. Around the tree goes my husband.

Down go the lights. Around the tree goes dear hubby.  

I haven’t quite figured out why the long tubes of PVC are present, but he just returned from the garage with a second one.  Something about “measuring” dear hubby muttered.

We have a tape measurer stretched out on the ground under the strings of lights along with the long PVC pipe bisecting it at some angle he finds important.

Meanwhile, all measuring devices have been abandoned to untangle the 12 strings of light hanging limply from their anchor attached to the rope slung over the tree limb.

But I do see progress. The fourth string of lights is being staked into the ground after dear hubby uses the angle measuring doohickey to find the precise angle.

It’s a four-sided triangle.  Or a pyramid as my husband corrected me.

I must say, it’s a nice evening. I’m sitting in the early evening in shorts and sleeveless shirt listening to Christmas carols streaming from the radio over our car’s speakers.

Of course, no project in our home, or outside it, in this case, isn’t complete without one or more trips to Home Depot. This current trip is to pick up the dozen extension cords required to light each strand individually.  

Oh, right, I forgot to tell you the most important part.

Dear hubby is going to control each strand’s lighting ability separately from each other. Possibly to music, doubtful it will happen this year, but for sure they will light to some type of pre-determined pattern.

With four strings anchored it looks like it’s back to the iPad for more calculations to determine where the next string should be anchored.

Of course my offer of “just stretch each string out until it reaches an anchor point and be done with it” was met with scowls and mutterings of it won’t look like a tree (cone)”.

Oh, right, I forgot.

Did I mention this is our second night of working on this project?  Yep.

Uh oh, I just heard a muttered “oh, sh**”. That cannot mean things are going well.

Should I ask if everything is okay? No, I’ve learned from previous projects. Just sit quietly and watch.

Which may not be much longer.  Dear hubby just muttered that it’s getting harder to see with the sun light fading.

Hey, I helped! Hubby asked me to bring him the yard stick from the garage. My contribution.  Obviously two PVC pipes and two measuring tapes weren’t enough math for this scientific project, but the yard stick would fill the apparent void. I’m sure it’s all going to come together now. All dear hubby had to do was ask me and I could easily tell him what his project needed, but no, he goes for a sixth measuring device. <thwacks head soundly>

I think the tree of lights will be finally built tonight. Dear hubby seems determined. He even got a soft pad to kneel on.  To his credit, he already worked all day at a friend’s house installing a roof vent. However, I did hear him mutter something along the lines of “at least I know what I’m doing now”.

It does seem to be going faster. There isn’t quite as much silence, or number of Christmas songs go by, between each tapping of the hammer.

Math and Science is failing dear hubby.  I heard him say, “I don’t understand why I have to make this string so much longer.  Every other one is the exact same length.”

Who woulda thunk?

One PVC pipe has been discarded to lay forgotten in the yard a bit away from the actual work site.  It looks like the yard stick is doing the job.

Once again my help was needed to untangle the three remaining strings of lights. I rocked.

It really looks like a tree of lights. Of course they aren’t lit. Remember the earlier mention of extension cords. They still needed to be purchased.

And after many hours of work, including calculations, PVC pipe, a yard stick, hammer, stakes, and an angle measuring doohickey the lights are strung, stretched to the precise angle and anchored.

Voila! A tree.  

So, I wonder if I should ask about putting a star on top?

Uh oh, the lights’ plugs aren’t polarized. Possible problem.

Problem averted.

One trip to Home Depot later and we were back home lighting the tree.

Dear hubby had a brief but insane idea of putting one of our Christmas inflatables in the center. The Santa helicopter. I agreed in principal but after a few minutes of my husband dwelling on the possibility, he came to his senses, and then suggested he just add more strings of lights. In different colors so that when he automates them he will have more sequencing options.

I tactfully said, “not tonight. Tomorrow is another day.”

Let’s hope he’s moved on to the next project.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Husband’s Favorite Toys

June 22,2025

My husband has had a lot of dangerous and not so dangerous hobbies since I’ve known him. When we met, he had a motorcycle.

I would climb on the back and away we’d go; it felt like flying. As our relationship grew stronger and we were committing ourselves to each other, we decided I would take Motorcycle Safety Training classes so that I could buy my own motorcycle. It was an amazing cherry bomb red Kawasaki Ninja EX-500. My husband had the Kawasaki Ninja 600.

We loved our bikes and took them everywhere. Even strapping kites to the sides and riding to the beach to do some Stunt Kite flying.

However, it wasn’t enough, Hubby had to ramp it up. He decided to start racing motorcycles. He’d put everything in an enclosed trailer and drive south to a track that allowed motorcycle racing. I was relegated to scan the track for the best angles for pictures. At one point I followed him with my lens around one corner into an underpass, and I was set up to snap some great shots as he came out on the curve.

I waited. and waited.

Then I heard the ambulance sirens and saw Emergency Services heading for that end of the track. I had never ran so fast in my life. Well, maybe when I was in the Marines, but this was a mad dash. I got to our paddock as soon as the ambulance arrived. THey’d removed his leathers and all I saw was road rash on his protective suit. He was sitting on the end of the ambulance getting his blood pressure taken and I looked him over and he seemed okay. He kept telling he was fine. He was fine. I kept asking are you okay?

The next thing we heard was someone running up to our area and yelling “I got it!” Apparently, he was filming some other racer and caught the entire accident on video. I had to see it. And then, I didn’t want to see it ever again. He slid around the curve, his wheel caught in the concrete separation of the track (It used to be an airport and they were racing on runway) and he tumbled off his bike and ass over elbow tumbled until he reached the side of the track.

He raced a lot. So much that sometimes I didn’t go with him. One time, I chose to stay home and I get a phone call from him telling me he’s all right, but he’s on his way home, if he can get the bike and materials into the trailer and hook up to the truck. I asked why, and he said with as much mirth as possible, that he had another accident. This time he hurt his hand. I

It was a long ride, but I was waiting to take him to the ER as soon as he got home. I insisted. And, it was a good thing I did. He needed surgery on his hand and thumb and pins inserted. I told him he was done racing. No argument.

Fast forward 25 years and guess who decides he wants to learn how to fly and wants his pilot license. So, he did it, in 4 or 5 months, he had his pilot license and a month after that he bought an airplane. Mooney MC20.

So, what does he do next? He’s flying around and lands at an airport north of us, finds out it has houses for sale with hangars along side the houses. To him, it was the perfect solution. He flew me up to see the airport and the two houses for sale. I fell in love with one, but didn’t tell him, while I looked at the other. I made him work for it. He had to really convince me to sell the “Forever” house we were living in and move to an entire new city, county where there is nothing but pastures and move to an airport. A beautiful neighborhood, Pilot Country Estates, but, he had to really convince me. Me, still not telling him I loved the house.

Finally, I gave in and told my husband I loved the house and let’s start the paperwork. We were moved in three months later. Eventually, we go to know the neighbors and made friends.

We flew that airplane everywhere around the United States. North, to Pennsylvania, Ohio, Michigan, West to Arizona. During Hurricane season we used it to evacuate north to Georgia, once to Tennessee, we even went to Texas once.

I learned to fly in that airplane too, earning my Student Pilot license. I didn’t want to get my Pilot license. I didn’t want that responsibility. Especially after what happened January 1, 2022.

I was flying the airplane that day, doing some maneuvers, practicing with gear up and gear down. It was a beautiful day; blue skies. We flew near the Gulf. Then my husband said to head south to an airport down there that had good fuel prices. I flew to the airport, lined up in the pattern, then turned controls over to my husband. He was landing the airplane, not me. We turned base, and he said the plane was a little sluggish and needed more power, and pushed in the throttle a bit. It still slowed and he pushed the throttle in more. He said, “the engine is out.”

We were no longer lining to land on the runway, my husband’s head turned left, right, and in a split second he chose to avoid landing on the highway below due to the traffic and additional injuries and instead, decided to crash into an orange grove. Neither of us were upset. We stayed quiet, (I did say, “God, You got this.) he flew that airplane every inch of the way, until we finally slid to a stop, just a few feet from a 50 foot concrete ditch. My husband radioed the airport immediately and told them where we were and what happened. We checked other things, but all I remember is smelling fuel, so we got out as soon as possible and as far away as possible. I needed to sit. My head hurt.

EMS and the sheriff arrived. Took us to the closest hospital. They checked us out individually. My husband was fine. My injuries were too intense for the hospital to care for them and I was airlifted to Tampa General Hospital Trauma. I stayed for two days with a concussion, brain bleed and 6 left broken ribs.

The plane was totaled.

Greg was flying again right away. Me, I was injured and it took six months to heal. During that time I didn’t fly. When I was better, I flew some. Various planes, to get the feel of a different airplane. We finally bought a replacement, a Piper Lance that had luxury lounge seating in the cabin. with the pilot and co pilot up front. I chose to sit in the back and relax, listen to music and watch movies while we traveled. We flew to Wisconsin for the largest fly in.

But, I got very seriously ill and our traveling was cut short. The plane sat in the hangar draining money with nothing to do. So we sold it. I felt bad, because I was so sick and we couldn’t do any traveling. So I bought my husband a new airplane. One he has been going ga-ga over for quite some time but we could never justify it. But, I decided he deserved it.

How is that for a toy for my husband? So, now, he’s flying it every weekend, sometimes twice or three times a weekend. It’s a Nanchang CJ6 Warbird. He’s called to put it on display for various airshows like at MacDill Airfare Base and the Sun n Fun fly in. Not to mention the number of Warbird events.

Am I the best wife ever?