Monday, June 28, 2010

Beards

Tsar Nicholas Romanov 1898


On this hot a muggy June day what am I going to write about?  Beards.  Yes, beards.  I'll let the subject of my infestation of Japanese Beetles go for another day.

From the first time I saw Jon Nagy with his Van Dyke type beard, I wanted one. For those of you old enough to remember, Jon Nagy was a television personality of the early Fifties who taught "Anyone can draw."  At that time in my young life (10 years old) I fancied that I wanted to be an artist.  And the man who was going to teach me to be an artist was Jon Nagy.  I looked up to that man.  I thought he was a cool as could be.  Not for me Howdy Doody and Buster Bob and the stupid, silly Soupy Sales; I wanted to be cool like Jon Nagy.  Unfortunately it wasn't I was in high school taking numerous art classes that I discovered I had absolutely no artistic talent.  But that fact didn't dissuade me from wanting a full beard.

There were two other men whose beards I admired greatly.  Coincidentally they were both first cousins.  Their mothers were both Danish princesses.  Tsar Nicholas Romanov of Russia was the one man who had a fantastic beard.  His cousin, King George V of England had an equally outstanding beard.  I wanted to look like them.  However, at ten years old, I was some years away from having enough testosterone to grow such a manly, impressive beard.

King George V 1895


After I graduated from high school I joined the Army.  Of course in the Army of that day (the early Sixties) a beard was strictly verboten.  Only hippies and "artistic types" (read homosexuals and perverts) had beards in those days.

After I left the Army I scrambled around for a job.  Of course one didn't interview for a job in those days with a beard.  Again, the same rules applied.  If you had a beard you were either a revolutionary or "artistic" (which was dangerous because "artistic" could cover so many threatening fields.)  Clean shaven, I got a job at Girard Bank in Philadelphia in March of 1965.

Me 1969


Some years pass and the urge to have a beard still was in my subconscious.  I have an angular face with a prominent nose and a beard would set me off from the rest of the rabble.  Plus, I wanted to look as attractive as I could be for my weekend bar hopping excursions looking for strangers in the night.

Me 1972


Thus is came to pass one day I started to grow a beard.  About the third day in my beard growth, some of my older, more conservative co-workers started to express alarm.  They asked "Why are you growing a beard?"  They felt threatened.  Was this a revolutionary in their midst?  Another co-worker said "You are already very handsome, why would you want to grow a beard?"  My answer was always the same, "Because I've always wanted a beard."



In about two weeks time I had a full, dark brown beard and it was as fabulous as I thought it would be.  I was a happy guy.  Almost immediately I noticed that I would attract attention when I walked into my local watering hole on the weekend.  Viola!  I now felt complete.  This was in the year 1972.

Me November 9, 1976


For most of the past almost 40 years I have had a full beard.  Back about 17 years ago my beard started to turn white.  My hair stayed dark brown (less of it) but the beard on my chin was full white.  At various times I left it white and other times I colored it with Just For Men.  I only colored my beard to stop Bill (my life partner) from nagging me about my white beard.  He said "You look much younger with a dark beard."  Of course he was right.  But what a pain it was to color it every five days, not to mention the expense.  Another problem was the splatters of the coloring got on my bathroom sink top and was hard to remove.  Was this worth it?
Me November 1980 (celebrating Phillies winning World Series)


Back in 1995 I shaved my beard.  I didn't like what I saw under the beard.  My face had changed.  Gravity had worked it's magic.  I had this "thing" around my mouth that I didn't have before.  I didn't like my look nor did anyone else.  I grew my beard back.

From that day until this weekend I had not shaved my beard.  This weekend I shaved it on the "advice" of a friend who said I looked "old" with a white beard.  Of course he was right but then again, I am old.  I am 68 years old.  I will be 68 years old this November.  I am an old fart.  What do you want?

Me and my First Financial Bank employee photo 2001 - I'm coloring my beard now

Well, talk about not liking what I saw when I shaved my beard.  This time I discovered I had jowls.  Yes , jowls.  Definitely not a pretty sight.  In fact, my jowls have taken away my boyish look that I had retained for lo these many years.  I now have that Old Prospector Look.  Maybe I don't look like Gabby Hayes but I definitely cold pass for Slim Pickens brother.

Me this morning sans beard - I don't like it


So here is what I'm going to do.  I'm growing the beard back.  I will color it sometimes and sometimes I won't.  Tsar Nicholas didn't make it to a grand old age (we all know THAT story) but George V did.  Looking at Old George in his later years, he doesn't look all that bad.  I would rather look like George V in his twilight years than Wilford Brimely.

Wilford Brimley and his look alike cat

Friday, June 25, 2010

Returning to the Scene of the Crime

Bluebird eggs at risk yesterday with the arrival of the Demon Kid


Remember a few weeks ago that I posted that someone had torn out the swallow bird nest (with live baby swallows in it) when Bill and I were on vacation down South?  I did a little sleuthing and came to the conclusion that it was the eight year old Hispanic boy who was with the lawn maintenance guy that my neighbor Tom had doing his lawn.

My neighbor Tom's Hispanic lawn maintenance crew yesterday arrives


Bill had pointed out to me before "how cute" the kid was with his hyperactive antics whenever he accompanied his dad (?) to his lawn maintenance job.  Thus, it didn't take too much to figure out who opened the bluebird box that contained the live baby swallows.  It had to take someone about three feet tall to reach up and put his greasy little finger in the open and pull the wooden door down because the latch was still in place.  At first I couldn't figure out how the door got open with the latch still in place.  I thought maybe a cat or another animal got into the bird box.  But to have the strength to pull the latch?  No, couldn't be.


After running different scenarios through my mind, this hyper active kid popped to the front.  Yes, this would be something that a curious, hyperactive, unsupervised, eight year old brat would do.  I went back out to the bird box to look for evidence.  Almost immediately I saw a small indentation in the thyme that I have planted at the base of the bird box.  In fact, right at the very base is a wild rose bush.  The indentation was to the left.  Viola!  That's why he put his finger up to hook it into the hole that is the opening to the bird box.  Once he opened the bird box he was too short to see into the nest so he obviously put his stinking, dirty, greasy little paw up to the nest and pulled it out.  He was probably very pleased to find four naked, three day old baby swallows in the nest.  His short attention span was satiated if only for a moment.

When Bill and I discovered the bird box door was open the next morning after we returned from our trip, I immediately went out to see what happened.  I saw the empty nest on the ground.  No baby swallows.  No adult swallows.  Gone.

Not knowing what else to to, I put the neatly built nest (which was cushioned by many down feathers from unknown birds) back in the bird box, hoping the adult swallows return and lay more eggs.  The determined sparrows do it so why not the swallows?  Well, it was not to be.

The bird box remained empty for two week until a week ago when the blue birds returned. Hallelujah!  This was great news!  The blue birds had returned.  For the past two years the blue birds have raised two batches of baby bluebirds in that box.  This year, right on cue in early April the blue birds returned only to be met by a very determined sparrow.  The determined sparrow had already killed a swallow in that bird box plus in another bird box.  I guess the blue birds assumed it was too dangerous to build a nest in that bird box this year.  They left and the swallows took over.  Oh, Bill took care of the determined sparrow.  He trapped it and "disposed" of it.  One less sparrow in the world, hooray!

We figured if we couldn't have the bluebirds raising their young in that bird box this year, at least the swallows would have a chance.  That is until the ADHD monster arrived on the scene.

I told Bill "He'll be back."  Bill said, "No, I think that was a one time job Tom (our neighbor) had done."  I disagreed.  I said to Bill, "Oh no, that little destructive monster will be back."  And sure enough, yesterday the little hyperactive brat was back.  However, this time he was staying in the truck.

A ha!  Either his dad knew what he did or this ADHD kid caused trouble at some of his other job locations.  I wanted to go out immediately and have words with Miguel (or whatever his name is.)  Manual, Poncho, Pedro....whatever.  Probably Jesus pronounced "Hey Zeus!"

Bill said don't do anything unless he gets out of the truck.  I agreed with Bill.  I went to our second floor and kept an eagle eye on that truck.  Occasionally I would see The Brat popping out of the driver's window.  One time he was almost all the way out.  This kid has so much energy, he could hardly contained himself.  I figured now was the time to go out and have a discussion with his dad Jorge (pronounced Whore Hey!) or whatever his name is (Juan, Carolos, Fernando or Pablo - take your pick.)

As I was walking towards dad Jose (pronounced Hose Hey!) on his tractor, he stopped immediately and looked at me with dread.  He knew this was trouble.  The kid pokes his stupid little head out the driver's side of dad's truck, a HUGE smile on his face.  This kid is ready to do Major Destruction.  I say "Ola", which I think is a standard form of Hispanic greeting.  But then my Spanish fails me.  I know a few words like "Amigo", and "Gracias" but none of those words will apply to this situation.  I figure the best thing to do is speak very slowly in English (or as they say "Inglis") and do a lot of motioning with my hands.

The Little Terror has the driver's side door open, ready to pop out and cause mayhem


I got his attention.  Pointing to his brat in the truck I say "Someone opened that bird box (I point to the bird box) and took out the nest."  Pointing to his monster, I say "I have reason to believe that it was him!"  I continue (motioning my arms wildly hoping this would make him understand I am really pissed), "No! No! No!"  And pointing to destructive little monster that he has in the truck, I say "An this isn't funny!" (like he understood me.  Made me feel good to say it.)

I motioned again to the bird box and say as loud as I can "NO!"  I think I got through.  In fact, the look on Hector's face (or whatever his name is), led me to believe that he thought I was going to deport him.  I am certain he is an illegal.  He just had that look of utter terror when I approached him.

Once back in our house I continued to monitor the situation.  The Devil's Spawn kept popping in and out of the driver's side window.  Then about a half an hour later went to the door and said something to the kid and opened the door.  Damien sprung out and ran to the side of the house.  Obviously a bathroom call.  After pissing on the side of my neighbor Tom's house he ran right back to the truck and hopped into the cab just like his father Alejandro (pronounced "Alley Hand Dro") told him to do.
Note the Devil's Spawn running towards the tree to take a pee


After his dad finished the lawn mowing (along with another illegal who collected the grass and it in another truck), he opened the door of his truck to let his kid out.  Immediately ADHD kid was doing cartwheels on my neighbor's lawn.  Damn, this kid has about as much energy as that BP induced oil volcano in the Gulf of Mexico.  GET HIM OUT OF HERE!

They left around 5 o'clock.  I could finally take my afternoon nap, secure in the knowledge that a destructive, wild child wasn't going to destroy another bird nest.
The Illegals with their Monster Brat getting out of Dodge


This morning I went out to check the blue bird house and found that another egg has been added.  This make one more to go.  Bluebirds usually lay four eggs.  They take about a week to hatch and about four weeks for the bluebirds to grow into maturity.  During that time I am positive that Pedro, Diego or (oh no, this couldn't be his name "Angel" and Pancho will return.  When they do I will be ready for them.
I'm calling Immigration this time.

The bluebird nest today, a third egg.  Safe...for the time being.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

Discipline

West Point Cadet Take the Oath 


Yesterday President Obama accepted General Stanley McChrystal's resignation.  General McChrystal offered his resignation as a result of the uproar over the Rolling Stone article about "The Runaway General" which showed McChrystal's disrespect for his commander in chief, President Obama.

McChrystal at an earlier meeting with Obama showing his obvious disdain for his commander in chief, President Obama


President Obama made the right decision in accepting McChrystal's resignation.  General McChrystal failed in the first and basic requirement of any member of the armed forces, discipline.  General McChrystal, by showing his contempt of President Obama and Obama's civilian staff, set an unacceptable tone for his staff and soldiers.  For our country to have a strong armed forces, there must be a seamless chain of command.  At the top of that chain of command is the president of the United States.  It doesn't matter whether you like or dislike the president, the president is the commander in chief.

McChrystal arrives at the White House yesterday


When I joined the Army on July 27, 1960 the first thing that I did was raise my right hand and take the oath to obey the commander in chief.  I am sure McChrystal also took the same oath early in his career when he entered West Point.  Where did he ever get the idea that he could ignore this oath?

McChrystal is well known for his discipline.  Reports say that he eats only one meal a day, runs seven miles a day and only sleeps four hours a night.  Impressive.  I couldn't do it.  But one thing I could do when I was in the Army was obey my commander in chief.  I also obeyed my platoon sergeant, first lieutenant, company commander, battalion commander, division commander, and whoever else was next in the chain of command all the way up to the president of the United States.  Was McChrystal's ego that outsized that he thought he was exempt from this most basic responsibility of a member of the armed forces?

Most of us at one time or another said things that we have regretted.  I certainly not exempt.  One of the reasons I decided not to make a career out of the Army was that I knew sooner or later I would have to report to somebody that I did not respect.  Even at that young age (21) I knew that if I was a private citizen and worked for somebody I didn't like or respect I could quit.  That's not an option for an enlisted man (or women) in the Army.  I didn't want to short circuit an Army career by having a run in with an officer that I despised.

Sure enough, in my civilian career I have encountered bosses who I did not respect.  On several jobs I quit rather than report to that kind of boss.  One time I made a mistake and didn't quit.  I was disrespectful (I spouted off one too many times) to a new boss I had at one of the banks where I worked. After a torturous few months of disciplinary actions, I was fired.  Yes, you read that right, I was fired.  It's not something I'm proud of.  I was called down to the bank president's office and told by the bank president that he could no longer tolerate the conflict between me and my superior.  I was then walked back to my desk (accompanied by my boss who I so despised) and told to clean out my desk and depart the bank immediately.  I was officially a non person.

Was I upset?  Not really.  In fact I was relieved to be done with the game playing of the documentation of my "poor performance."  Did I think the bank president make the right decision?  Absolutely.  I was disrespectful of my superior.  One incident specifically I angrily mouthed off to him (I call it "biting his head off") in full view and hearing of my co-workers.  That was the beginning the end for me.  In fact, he had every right to fire me on the spot.  The only reason I think he didn't fire me was that he wanted to make sure my replacement was in place before he did the necessary deed.

In my present job in which I only work part-time, I sometimes have issues with my boss, who is also the owner of the hotel.  Rather than let these issues simmer or discuss them with my co-workers, I have asked for a meeting with my boss to discuss them.  Airing my grievances in public is not an option, no matter how justified my complaints.  If my situation at work became so intolerable that I could no longer work for my boss, then my option is to quit.  I took that option with another bank job I had.  What is not an option is to air my grievances in public, thus showing disrespect and humiliating my boss.  That simply is not an option.

What constantly amazes me in life are people who show super human discipline in some areas of their life but in some basic areas, they show none.  Unfortunately for General McChrystal, his total lack of discipline for his oath to his commander in chief destroyed his whole career.

Think about it General McChrystal






Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Rehoboth Beach, Delaware 1964

Bill K. and Ron H. Rehoboth Beach, DE 1964

I'm often asked, "When did you move to Delaware?" My answer is that I officially moved to Delaware November 17th, 2006. That was the date I sold our house in Pennsylvania and moved into our new house in Delaware. What I don't say is that I made the decision to move to Delaware, specifically the Rehoboth Beach area, way back in 1964.

Growing up in the small town of Downingtown, Pennsylvania I always wanted to "go to the shore." I envied my schoolmates who had families that took them to "the shore" (aka "the beach) for holidays and in the summertime. My dad would go fishing with some of his brothers and friends off of Cape May, New Jersey but he never thought to offer to take any of his sons along. If he had, I would have gone along with him. The option of taking his family for a day of fun and frolic at the beach wasn't even considered. That was our "Pop." In our family, his needs always came first. Entertainment for his three sons was not one of his priorities. Not that I'm complaining, my brothers and I had plenty to keep us busy during the summer where we lived on 120 Washington Avenue in Downingtown, PA. Our favorite playground was the railroad tracks a couple of blocks behind our second floor apartment building on Washington Avenue. I never felt like I was deprived during my childhood but I do remember envying my friends who went to the beach and saw the ocean waves.

Me (on the right) and my brothers 1947 - this is as close as we ever got to "the shore."



The first time I saw the ocean was when I was 23 years old. In July of 1964 I met Bill, my life partner. He lived in Pennsauken, New Jersey. I lived in an efficiency apartment in Coatesville, Pennsylvania, a long way away from "the shore." I used to spend my weekends with Bill at apartment in Pennsauken, NJ. One weekend, looking for something to do, I asked Bill if he could take me to "the shore." Finally, I'm going to see the ocean!

My brothers and I and Mom - the closest we ever got to water - the park pond 

Thus, on a Saturday in August of 1964 Bill and I headed for Ocean City, New Jersey. The sun was out, the heat was on and the crowds in place. My first impression was "where has this been all my life?" I immediately felt at home. Maybe it had to do with that I'm a Scorpio and a water sign. Whatever the reason, I felt at home. The only problem was the lifeguards. Every time I went out in the water, the lifeguard whistle would blow. I wasn't going out far, just wading in the water. But once the water reached my knees the lifeguard would blast his whistle. I looked back to see what the problem was only to see the lifeguard, who was laying on his back, impatiently waving me back to shore. To me it looked like the lifeguard didn't want to move his head too much so he wanted me and all the other bathers in his line of view.



I walked back to where Bill and I had laid our towels on the beach and told Bill I wanted to leave. What was the point? I'm finally at "the shore" and I couldn't go in the water past my knees. We left and I haven't returned to the Jersey shore since that summer day in 1964. And I never intend to return especially now since "Snookie" and "The Situation" are what the Jersey shore is all about.



I hadn't given up on going to the beach. Instead, I decided instead of going to "the shore", is what you call going to the beach in New Jersey, that I would go to Rehoboth Beach.

Rehoboth Beach, DE April 8, 2010

A few weeks later, Bill and I along with my friends Ron H. and Ed C., headed to Rehoboth Beach, New Jersey. This was in August of 1964, long before Gayberry. This was even before Camp Rehoboth! This was even before Murray and Steve established their exclusive beach house circuit of friends. Wow, we were pioneers.

We loved Rehoboth Beach. Ron, Ed and I worked on our tans. Bill wasn't into baking in the sun. He only went along to please me. He couldn't care less about Rehoboth Beach or any beach. Bill's not a water person. The only problem was the 2 1/2 hour one way ride to Rehoboth Beach.

My friend Ed C. sunning himself at Rehoboth Beach, DE July 1964


That summer day in 1964 was my first introduction to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware and I was in love! Bill and I returned a few more times and then in the 70's my good friend Bob McC. purchased a 22 acre wooded parcel of land outside of Georgetown, Delaware. From that day on I often took advantage of my friendship with Bob and visited him, with other friends, at his single-wide in the middle of the woods. Occasionally I could talk him into dropping me off at the beach for a day of fun in the sun.

Me at Rehoboth Beach last week - older and grayer but the Dream is realized


I don't know the exact date that I decided that I wanted to retire to Delaware but I did make that decision. I thought "Someday, somehow, I will retire to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware." As I have found so often in my life, if you set a goal for yourself and work hard towards that goal, you will reach it. I had a dream and in November of 2006 I realized that dream.


I love every day I live here on the coastal shore of southern Delaware. My friend Ed C. has a home right in Rehoboth Beach. My friend Bob McC. still lives on his 22 acres of wooded paradise. My friend Ron H. passed away in 2005. Bill and I live six miles from the beach in Rehoboth. Bill still doesn't like the beach but moved here to please me. And that perhaps is the best thing that has ever happened to me. To be with someone most of my adult life who treats me like a prince.

Me catching some rays on my first visit to Rehoboth Beach, July 1964

So here I am, living at the beach with the one that I love. I have good friends, good health and a good job. Each day is like a vacation day. I worked hard for a long time to get where I am today. I take nothing for granted. I treasure each day I am privileged to live upon this earth. When my time comes, I will have no regrets. I have lived the good life. I am living the good life.

Me with my friend and neighbor Barbara at Rehoboth Beach April 2010

Monday, June 21, 2010

First Day of Summer Rehoboth Beach 2010

Ron on the beach
On this first day of summer I decided to mark the event by taking a rare trip into Rehoboth Beach.  


The new stimulus fun built Rehoboth Beach boardwalk this morning

Although I live near Rehoboth Beach (six miles north on the east side of Rt. 1) I rarely venture into Rehbooth Beach during the season because of the heavy traffic.  However, when I awoke this morning to clear blue skies and hot summertime temperatures, the beach beckoned me.  

Almost empty boardwalk in Rehoboth Beach, DE early this morning

The trick to going to Rehoboth Beach in season is to leave early.  Get into Rehoboth before the parking meters take effect at 10 a.m.  Thus, at 8:30 a.m. my '98 red Subaru Forester and I headed down the Coastal Highway (AKA Rt. 1) to Rehoboth.  Turning off of Rt. 1, into the Rehoboth traffic circle and down Rehoboth Avenue I was greeted by a sea of open, meter free parking spots.  I parked my trusty vehicle across from the Purple Parrot.  Next stop the stimulus funds built boardwalk.

The Rehoboth Bandstand (trash in front from the weekend)

Couple with children on an early morning stroll on the boardwalk

Ordering breakfast at Victoria's Restaurant on the boardwalk

Traffic picks up on the boardwalk - the skate boarders arrive

Overpriced boardwalk beach schlock (aka "essentials")

Ready for your grease infusion for the day?

Ever wonder where those $24.95 entrees come from?  Here's your answer.

Keeping the bod toned by an early morning run on the boardwalk

The beach is ready!  An umbrella and chair rental station.

A Baltimore Avenue sculpture - how would you like this in your front yard?

After taking a walk up and down the boardwalk and then venturing on Baltimore Avenue, I decided to visit my friend Wayne who works at a local Mexican themed eatery.  The picture below is me loitering outside the restaurant on the bench.  Do I look like I'm having a good time?  I am having a good time.  I love my life now in retirement (only working part-time at the hotel) in southern Delaware.  It just doesn't get much better than this!

Your's truly loitering on Rehoboth Avenue this morning


Next stop?  The North Shores Beach.  That posting is the next one.

Tatooed eye candy in the North Shores parking lot.  North Shores has the best scenery.














Sunday, June 20, 2010

Lewes Garden Tour 2010

Typical House at Wolf Pointe, Lewes, DE


Yesterday my friend Bob C. and I enjoyed the annual Lewes Garden Tour.  The third time was the charm.

Two years ago I bought my tickets in advance only to be called into work at the last minute thus I had to miss the tour.


My friend Bob C. in backyard of house at Wolf Pointe


Last year I bought my ticket in advance again only to see the skies open in a downpour the morning of the tour.  Again, I missed the tour.

Backyard patio and pool at Wolf Pointe house

A few days ago my friend Bob asked me if I was going to do the Lewes Garden Tour. I was reluctant because of my past strikeouts.  I especially didn't want to buy the tickets in advance again and be rained out or called into work on the day of the tour.  However, this year was different.  Sunny skies were forecast and I wasn't called into work.  Thus, the night before the tour Bob and I picked up our tickets at the hotel where I work in Lewes.  Buying the tickets in advance we save $5.00 each.  Hey, every dollar counts in today's economy.
Me and one of the items at the top of my Bucket List = a backyard pool


The tour was scheduled from 10 am to 5 pm.  Bob likes to go later to avoid the early morning crowds.  However, after Bob did some yard work in his yard at his home in Milton, the heat and humidity decided for him.  He called me and asked if I wanted to go earlier.  Being the agreeable person that I am, I agreed.
I could do some serious entertaining in this "backyard."


Bob stopped by my place and off we went to Lewes, garden tour maps in hand, to begin the tour in Lewes.

Our first stop was Wolfe Pointe.  This is the toney section of Lewes.  I've heard about Wolfe Pointe but never actually visited this ritzy section of Lewes.  Well, to say I was impressed is an understatement.  I was wowed.  WOW!  And I thought I lived in a big house.  Some of these houses had three full floors.  Mansions.  Not even McMansions but serious, full fledged MANSIONS.
The tour crowd gathers before the first house on the tour in Wolf Pointe


The first garden we visited was truly outstanding.  Perhaps more so because of the huge backyard patio with swimming pool, cookout and outdoor fireplace.  So this is how the other half lives?  Pretty darn nice.  Wow.

Plenty of room in this Wolf Pointe house

I'm not going to describe each property we visited but instead post some of the pictures of the delightful homes and gardens we visited both in Wolfe Pointe and downtown Lewes itself.  One property particularly impressed us.  It was located right in downtown Lewes, surrounded by an eight foot tall gray wooden fence.  The house outside was equally unimpressive.  But once we walked around the side of the house into the "Secret Garden", we were amazed with what we saw.  We walked over a bridge of a stream that flowed around the entire back yard.  Goldfish contentedly swam in the stream.  Taking up the center of the back yard was an almost Olympic sized, rectangular swimming pool.  At the end of the back yard was a huge grill and an outdoor fireplace.  Bob said "We have to get to know these people."  Yes, we do have to get to know these people.  


I want one of these in my backyard

Me by the pool in the house in downtown Lewes



Yesterday was a good day.  I was originally going to write by blog about the unbelievably stupid and arrogant statement that Rep. Joe Barton of Texas made, apologizing to Tony Hayward of BP for the 20 billion dollar BP set aside to compensate the victims of the BP oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico.  Orton apologized for what he termed the White House "shakedown" of BP in creating the fund.  However, I decided to post something positive instead of dwelling on the negative.  There is so much bad happening today.  We need to balance our life with more positive activity like yesterday's Lewes Garden Tour.

Next tour?  The Milton Garden Tour in July.  I'll be there.

Demonstration of building a pool


Another Secret Garden

More poolside relaxation spots - lots of pools yesterday

Our happy group taking a rest before the next stop on the tour

Conked out at the end of the day at the Lewes Historical Society Market