Judy Hill Online
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Judy Hill Online
Legs and toes and angels - oh, my!
It was probably not the best way to explain how excited I was the other night to visit with the Women's Guild at Nativity Catholic Church in Brandon.
The topic of the gathering - a tea party, with hats and gloves and tea sandwiches - was, not surprisingly, Hats Off to Women.
The guild is trying to expand its membership - tough in these times when many women work. But about 130 women attended, and most were adorable in "tea" appropriate outfits and chapeaus the likes of which I hadn't seen since a Red Hat luncheon at University Village in Tampa a few years ago.
I was at Nativity as the guest speaker and was supposed to have talked about women who make a difference.
There's a bunch of such women gracing the Tampa Bay area. I had a list a mile long.
Sister Claire LeBouef, of the Village of Everyday Blessing. Connie Sikkema, of Mesiah Lutheran Church's migrant ministries program. Guadalupe Lamas, who brings health services to migrant women.
Unfortunately, I only got as far as Lamas before ending up babbling on about heaven knows what.
Anyway, my opening remark was, "I was so excited about coming here tonight that I shaved my legs."
That got a laugh. Leg shaving is a drag.
I also mentioned that for the first time in my life I had a pedicure not long ago. It was so, I don't know, indolent, self-indulgent, expensive - and divine.
That also got a laugh.
Women like humor that speaks to them.
A bra column I did on the blog awhile back has had more hits than almost any other post.
One of the women at Nativity - many of whom flattered me by saying how much they missed my column in the Tampa Tribune - said she particularly loved the column I did about my favorite lipstick color being eliminated by the cosmetic company.
Another said that she loved the columns about my grandchildren.
"You were real," she said.
Yes. I still am. Now you just have to find me here.
Spread the word.
The topic of the gathering - a tea party, with hats and gloves and tea sandwiches - was, not surprisingly, Hats Off to Women.
The guild is trying to expand its membership - tough in these times when many women work. But about 130 women attended, and most were adorable in "tea" appropriate outfits and chapeaus the likes of which I hadn't seen since a Red Hat luncheon at University Village in Tampa a few years ago.
I was at Nativity as the guest speaker and was supposed to have talked about women who make a difference.
There's a bunch of such women gracing the Tampa Bay area. I had a list a mile long.
Sister Claire LeBouef, of the Village of Everyday Blessing. Connie Sikkema, of Mesiah Lutheran Church's migrant ministries program. Guadalupe Lamas, who brings health services to migrant women.
Unfortunately, I only got as far as Lamas before ending up babbling on about heaven knows what.
Anyway, my opening remark was, "I was so excited about coming here tonight that I shaved my legs."
That got a laugh. Leg shaving is a drag.
I also mentioned that for the first time in my life I had a pedicure not long ago. It was so, I don't know, indolent, self-indulgent, expensive - and divine.
That also got a laugh.
Women like humor that speaks to them.
A bra column I did on the blog awhile back has had more hits than almost any other post.
One of the women at Nativity - many of whom flattered me by saying how much they missed my column in the Tampa Tribune - said she particularly loved the column I did about my favorite lipstick color being eliminated by the cosmetic company.
Another said that she loved the columns about my grandchildren.
"You were real," she said.
Yes. I still am. Now you just have to find me here.
Spread the word.
Where does the time go?
For all of you who have inquired, Baxter is OK. We're just taking things day by day. After all, in doggy years he's 98. I'm grateful for any time I have with him. So we're doing a lot of cuddling.
When I'm not cuddling Baxter, I'm working on the Animal Coalition's Stride for Strays, which is coming up Oct. 13 from 9 a.m. to noon at Al Lopez Park in Tampa. I hope you all come out and visit. I'll be there, as will Dick Crippen, now of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, who is so famous he has his own entry on Wikipedia. Some other area notables will be there, as well.
Entertainment will be provided by the extremely popular Johnny G Lyon Band.
Bring a few dollars and your dog if you can. It's a whole lot of fun.
The money raised supports ACT's low-cost spay/neuter clinic in Tampa. We need all the help we can get. You've heard this before from me, but I'll say it again. About 44,000 companion animals were euthanized in Hillsborough and Pinellas counties last year. It has been proven in other communities that the availability of low-cost spay and neuter can reduce those numbers.
Oh, yes. And this week I'm attempting to herd two teenage boys. My oldest son and his wife are in Nashville celebrating their 20th anniversary. Where did all that time go?
Anyway, I'm supposed to be in charge of the Little Prince and the Laid Back Guy. That's a laugh.
All I do is schlep them to the bus stop, to soccer, to church ... And then there are the older girls, the Fashion Icon and The Woman Who Would Be President. I schlep them around, too.
To soccer. From soccer. To Study Buddy, from Studdy Buddy.
How do modern parents do it?
When I'm not cuddling Baxter, I'm working on the Animal Coalition's Stride for Strays, which is coming up Oct. 13 from 9 a.m. to noon at Al Lopez Park in Tampa. I hope you all come out and visit. I'll be there, as will Dick Crippen, now of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, who is so famous he has his own entry on Wikipedia. Some other area notables will be there, as well.
Entertainment will be provided by the extremely popular Johnny G Lyon Band.
Bring a few dollars and your dog if you can. It's a whole lot of fun.
The money raised supports ACT's low-cost spay/neuter clinic in Tampa. We need all the help we can get. You've heard this before from me, but I'll say it again. About 44,000 companion animals were euthanized in Hillsborough and Pinellas counties last year. It has been proven in other communities that the availability of low-cost spay and neuter can reduce those numbers.
Oh, yes. And this week I'm attempting to herd two teenage boys. My oldest son and his wife are in Nashville celebrating their 20th anniversary. Where did all that time go?
Anyway, I'm supposed to be in charge of the Little Prince and the Laid Back Guy. That's a laugh.
All I do is schlep them to the bus stop, to soccer, to church ... And then there are the older girls, the Fashion Icon and The Woman Who Would Be President. I schlep them around, too.
To soccer. From soccer. To Study Buddy, from Studdy Buddy.
How do modern parents do it?
Contradictions
A friend forwarded me one of those ubiquitous e-mail messages that multiply like bacteria and exceed the speed of light as they go around the world: a video link to a performance by the recently deceased Italian tenor Luciano Pavarotti singing one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever written, Nessun Dorma by Puccini.
Thank God she did.
I opened the message and played it over and over. I needed a shower of beauty after hours of contemplation about the allegations against - and suicide of - St. Petersburg City Council Chair John Bryan.
To be fair, all Bryan apparently admitted in a family court hearing Friday morning was that he had a sexual relationship with a "nanny" who turned 18 before he bedded her many years ago. This "nanny" was also, apparently, an adopted daughter.
The allegations against him also include charges that he sexually abused his two teenage adopted daughters, 12 and 15.
A judge ordered him to leave his home - neighbors said Bryan had told them he and his wife were getting a divorce - and stay away from his wife and daughters, but there is no official confirmation of those charges.
Even so, I am outraged at Bryan.
I know his wife. Maybe that's what makes this all so devastating. I've known her since she was a teen who played football on my front yard with my own kids, raided my refrigerator for drinks and snacks. She grew into a wonderful, accomplished, dignified woman who must be grief-stricken, mortified, humiliated, stunned.
And only God knows how those girls, if there was sexual impropriety, will survive.
Bryan was not a teenager with no moral compass. He was a grown man who, if he did something so base, should have known the consequences. That perhaps explains his suicide. But his death also prevents him from defending himself against the charges - which leads one to believe, perhaps unfairly, that something rotten was going on.
That's what brings me to the existential contradiction: how can humans create something so beautiful, so exquisite, so inspirational that it can bring you to tears, while also being capable of behavior as base and ugly and unforgivable as the sexual abuse of children?
Maybe the answer is that Nessun Dorma or Michaelangelo's David or any piece of art or literature or music that can make us weep, exalt and reach for goodness and purity is what allows us to tolerate all the ugliness in life.
Thank God she did.
I opened the message and played it over and over. I needed a shower of beauty after hours of contemplation about the allegations against - and suicide of - St. Petersburg City Council Chair John Bryan.
To be fair, all Bryan apparently admitted in a family court hearing Friday morning was that he had a sexual relationship with a "nanny" who turned 18 before he bedded her many years ago. This "nanny" was also, apparently, an adopted daughter.
The allegations against him also include charges that he sexually abused his two teenage adopted daughters, 12 and 15.
A judge ordered him to leave his home - neighbors said Bryan had told them he and his wife were getting a divorce - and stay away from his wife and daughters, but there is no official confirmation of those charges.
Even so, I am outraged at Bryan.
I know his wife. Maybe that's what makes this all so devastating. I've known her since she was a teen who played football on my front yard with my own kids, raided my refrigerator for drinks and snacks. She grew into a wonderful, accomplished, dignified woman who must be grief-stricken, mortified, humiliated, stunned.
And only God knows how those girls, if there was sexual impropriety, will survive.
Bryan was not a teenager with no moral compass. He was a grown man who, if he did something so base, should have known the consequences. That perhaps explains his suicide. But his death also prevents him from defending himself against the charges - which leads one to believe, perhaps unfairly, that something rotten was going on.
That's what brings me to the existential contradiction: how can humans create something so beautiful, so exquisite, so inspirational that it can bring you to tears, while also being capable of behavior as base and ugly and unforgivable as the sexual abuse of children?
Maybe the answer is that Nessun Dorma or Michaelangelo's David or any piece of art or literature or music that can make us weep, exalt and reach for goodness and purity is what allows us to tolerate all the ugliness in life.
Cranky ...
I've been that for awhile.
Retirement is disorienting. What the hell do I do with all this time I have now? How do I force myself to do things that need to be done? How do I find some direction?
The worst thing is my dog, Baxter,
is sick.
He's at least 14 and has arthritis of the spine. All the pain medications he's been on just tear his stomach up and he's been in and out of the doggy hospital four or five times in the past couple of months.
I had to rush him there again today. This time it wasn't just his usual diarrhea - sorry to gross you out - but blood, too.
I didn't want to leave him. He didn't want me to leave. He stood by my side as the vet tech tried to cajole him into going into the back. Finally, he went with her.
I cried when I left. This isn't good.
He's been a great friend. Always there for me. Never questions anything. Just wags his tail when he sees me and can't wait to jump in bed at naptime and at night so we can cuddle.
He has me trained. I know when he licks his lips he's hungry or wants a treat.
I've cooked for him for years. Rice, mixed vegetables, ground turkey.
Both my sons whine.
"You don't cook for us anymore, but you cook for the dog!"
That's right.
He's my guy.
What am I going to do without him?
Even if he comes home this time and we limp along for awhile, I know it's going to happen sooner or later.
But even later will be far too soon.
Retirement is disorienting. What the hell do I do with all this time I have now? How do I force myself to do things that need to be done? How do I find some direction?
The worst thing is my dog, Baxter,
is sick.He's at least 14 and has arthritis of the spine. All the pain medications he's been on just tear his stomach up and he's been in and out of the doggy hospital four or five times in the past couple of months.
I had to rush him there again today. This time it wasn't just his usual diarrhea - sorry to gross you out - but blood, too.
I didn't want to leave him. He didn't want me to leave. He stood by my side as the vet tech tried to cajole him into going into the back. Finally, he went with her.
I cried when I left. This isn't good.
He's been a great friend. Always there for me. Never questions anything. Just wags his tail when he sees me and can't wait to jump in bed at naptime and at night so we can cuddle.
He has me trained. I know when he licks his lips he's hungry or wants a treat.
I've cooked for him for years. Rice, mixed vegetables, ground turkey.
Both my sons whine.
"You don't cook for us anymore, but you cook for the dog!"
That's right.
He's my guy.
What am I going to do without him?
Even if he comes home this time and we limp along for awhile, I know it's going to happen sooner or later.
But even later will be far too soon.
Deja vu all over again
Seeing my byline in the St. Petersburg Times Tuesday was a hoot.
In another life I used to work there. When I left I never thought I'd see my name in the Times again except in an obituary.
But life's journey takes many twists and turns. Sometimes it even comes full circle.
Come next month I'll be contributing regularly to LifeTimes, the Times' monthly section for readers over 50. I'm really looking forward to reconnecting with many of you.
My blog is fun. So is Sticks of Fire. So, while the platform is somewhat different than before, it still exists.
The great family news is that all five grands (see below) are now in school.
From left to right, they are: The Woman Who Would Be President, The Adorable Bossy One, The Fashion Icon and the Little Prince. The Laid Back Guy is behind the Adorable Bossy One.
The Little Prince is a sophomore in the International Baccalaureate program at St. Pete High.
The Woman Who Would Be President is a freshman at St. Petersburg Catholic High in the honors program.
The Fashion Icon is now the only Di Vito at St. Paul School, which is a very good thing when you're older sister is absolutely driven to excel and succeed and you've lived in her shadow for many years.
The Laid Back Guy has segued from private to public school. He's in the magnet program at BayPoint Middle School in St. Pete - the very same school his Uncle Russell attended.
And speaking of Uncle Russell, his daughter, The Adorable Bossy One, started pre-pre-kindergarten Monday.
The first day didn't go well.
She puked.
In another life I used to work there. When I left I never thought I'd see my name in the Times again except in an obituary.
But life's journey takes many twists and turns. Sometimes it even comes full circle.
Come next month I'll be contributing regularly to LifeTimes, the Times' monthly section for readers over 50. I'm really looking forward to reconnecting with many of you.
My blog is fun. So is Sticks of Fire. So, while the platform is somewhat different than before, it still exists.
The great family news is that all five grands (see below) are now in school.
From left to right, they are: The Woman Who Would Be President, The Adorable Bossy One, The Fashion Icon and the Little Prince. The Laid Back Guy is behind the Adorable Bossy One.
The Little Prince is a sophomore in the International Baccalaureate program at St. Pete High.
The Woman Who Would Be President is a freshman at St. Petersburg Catholic High in the honors program.
The Fashion Icon is now the only Di Vito at St. Paul School, which is a very good thing when you're older sister is absolutely driven to excel and succeed and you've lived in her shadow for many years.
The Laid Back Guy has segued from private to public school. He's in the magnet program at BayPoint Middle School in St. Pete - the very same school his Uncle Russell attended.
And speaking of Uncle Russell, his daughter, The Adorable Bossy One, started pre-pre-kindergarten Monday.
The first day didn't go well.
She puked.
Anyone missing an iguana?
The phone rang.
"Judy, it's Ann. There's an iguana in your son's back yard."
Huh?
"An iguana."
Ohhhh. I wanna see. I'll be right over.
I was thinking something big. Not Monitor Lizard size, but dog-size at least - and they do get that big, according to Wikipedia.
My son and his family live across the street from me, so Ann's call was not surprising.
I went into Ann's back yard, rather than my son's.
If it was a dog-sized iguana, I wanted to look, but not touch.
Lizards I can deal with. Catch them in the house and toss them outside so Lilly, the Great Hunter, won't kill them.
But not a dog-size iguana.
Ann stood in her back yard with a broom in her hand.
She was ready, she said, to fight off the beast.
Where is it?
She pointed to my son's dock. "Over there."
I looked.
Where?
"OVER THERE!"
I looked again but still saw no beast.
From the way she talked on the phone, I thought the iguana was at least eating the orchids or attacking the screened porch.
But I still couldn't see him - or her.
Where?
OVER THERE UNDER THE PADDLE BOAT.
Ah. There was the beast.
His - or her - bright green head peeked out from underneath the overturned paddle boat.
He - or she - must have sensed we were looking at her - or him.
He - or she - crawled out from under the boat and trotted down the sea wall to another neighbor's house.
The beast was hardly a creature to fear - at least individually.
It was a little bigger than the one in the photo above. But not much.
It will grow, however.
And given that the green iguana has become an invasive species in Florida - particularly along the gulf coast including in Pinellas County - he - or she - will multiply.
Great - another destructive invasive species.
Too bad they don't eat punk trees or Brazillian pepper.
"Judy, it's Ann. There's an iguana in your son's back yard."
Huh?
"An iguana."
Ohhhh. I wanna see. I'll be right over.
I was thinking something big. Not Monitor Lizard size, but dog-size at least - and they do get that big, according to Wikipedia.
My son and his family live across the street from me, so Ann's call was not surprising.
I went into Ann's back yard, rather than my son's.
If it was a dog-sized iguana, I wanted to look, but not touch.
Lizards I can deal with. Catch them in the house and toss them outside so Lilly, the Great Hunter, won't kill them.
But not a dog-size iguana.
Ann stood in her back yard with a broom in her hand.
She was ready, she said, to fight off the beast.
Where is it?
She pointed to my son's dock. "Over there."
I looked.
Where?
"OVER THERE!"
I looked again but still saw no beast.
From the way she talked on the phone, I thought the iguana was at least eating the orchids or attacking the screened porch.
But I still couldn't see him - or her.
Where?
OVER THERE UNDER THE PADDLE BOAT.
Ah. There was the beast.
His - or her - bright green head peeked out from underneath the overturned paddle boat.
He - or she - must have sensed we were looking at her - or him.
He - or she - crawled out from under the boat and trotted down the sea wall to another neighbor's house.
The beast was hardly a creature to fear - at least individually.
It was a little bigger than the one in the photo above. But not much.
It will grow, however.
And given that the green iguana has become an invasive species in Florida - particularly along the gulf coast including in Pinellas County - he - or she - will multiply.
Great - another destructive invasive species.
Too bad they don't eat punk trees or Brazillian pepper.
Bless Sharon Taylor
She more than holds her own on AM Tampa Bay, the popular morning show on News Radio 970 WFLA featuring Jack Harris and Tedd Web.
In fact, Taylor is the wise voice of the news from 5 to 9 a.m.
That great voice is also the lead in the hot local band, Sharon and the Boys.
Taylor is also one of the kindest folks in the Bay area.
She did a blog item updating folks on what Bob Ross and I are doing since being canned by the Tampa Tribune in April.
Bob, of course, easily shifted his thoughtful, entertaining movie reviews from print to online at Bob Ross Movies.
And I'm blogging on Sticks of Fire, working for the Animal Coalition of Tampa, freelancing for the St. Petersburg Timesand blogging a bit here.
Thanks, Sharon, for the plug.
In fact, Taylor is the wise voice of the news from 5 to 9 a.m.
That great voice is also the lead in the hot local band, Sharon and the Boys.
Taylor is also one of the kindest folks in the Bay area.
She did a blog item updating folks on what Bob Ross and I are doing since being canned by the Tampa Tribune in April.
Bob, of course, easily shifted his thoughtful, entertaining movie reviews from print to online at Bob Ross Movies.
And I'm blogging on Sticks of Fire, working for the Animal Coalition of Tampa, freelancing for the St. Petersburg Timesand blogging a bit here.
Thanks, Sharon, for the plug.
You'd think I'd learn
I ALWAYS fall for the wipes. Clorox wipes. Lysol wipes. Mr. Clean wipes.
It's the coupons - and a longing for truth in advertising - that gets me.
Of course, when I get them home they ALWAYS disappoint. They don't do much more than a wet paper towel despite all the promises.
So why don't I learn?
Getting a "deal" is what sucks me in.
OOOOOHHHHH. $1 off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Of course, that the stuff costs about 10 times more than paper towels doesn't seem to disuade me.
The compulstion to take advantage of the "deal" also sucks me in when I'm shopping for clothes, which seems to be all of the time these days.
OOOOOHHHHHH. 50 PERCENT OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Plus my coupon for $20 off, plus my Passport discount of 5 percent off my entire order, plus the 10 percent off the entire order when I buy a $70 pair of jeans.
How can anyone resist?
I can't.
So an untellable dollar later - my kids will kill me if they found out; they fear they're going to have to support me one day - I walk out of my favorite store, Chico's of course, and add the results of yet another financial coup to my closet.
There's always a black cloud to go with that silver lining, however.
I get confused trying to decide what I'm going to wear, so I always grab for the same outfit unless I'm going out - the same old ratty camoflage pants and green shirt.
Yes, you'd think I'd learn.
It's the coupons - and a longing for truth in advertising - that gets me.
Of course, when I get them home they ALWAYS disappoint. They don't do much more than a wet paper towel despite all the promises.
So why don't I learn?
Getting a "deal" is what sucks me in.
OOOOOHHHHH. $1 off!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Of course, that the stuff costs about 10 times more than paper towels doesn't seem to disuade me.
The compulstion to take advantage of the "deal" also sucks me in when I'm shopping for clothes, which seems to be all of the time these days.
OOOOOHHHHHH. 50 PERCENT OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Plus my coupon for $20 off, plus my Passport discount of 5 percent off my entire order, plus the 10 percent off the entire order when I buy a $70 pair of jeans.
How can anyone resist?
I can't.
So an untellable dollar later - my kids will kill me if they found out; they fear they're going to have to support me one day - I walk out of my favorite store, Chico's of course, and add the results of yet another financial coup to my closet.
There's always a black cloud to go with that silver lining, however.
I get confused trying to decide what I'm going to wear, so I always grab for the same outfit unless I'm going out - the same old ratty camoflage pants and green shirt.
Yes, you'd think I'd learn.
Pardon my trash mouth
I do apologize to anyone who was offended by my expletives undeleted in the post about fireworks the other day. I have to remember that most people have not worked in a newsroom for 30 years.
That's not an excuse, I know. But newsrooms are - or were - places where salty language was common. So there wasn't much motivation to clean up my potty mouth, which tends to run like bad toilet when I'm angry.
Upon reflection, it wasn't smart, sensitive or courteous of me of me to use language that might offend in a column about people who lack courtesy.
My bad.
That's not an excuse, I know. But newsrooms are - or were - places where salty language was common. So there wasn't much motivation to clean up my potty mouth, which tends to run like bad toilet when I'm angry.
Upon reflection, it wasn't smart, sensitive or courteous of me of me to use language that might offend in a column about people who lack courtesy.
My bad.
Cut it out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm sitting here, pissed.
There's an asshole in my neighborhood (pardon the expletives that I have chosen NOT to delete) who thinks it's fun to set off firecrackers.
The problem with firecrackers - in addition to the fact that they're against Florida law unless used in agriculture - is that dogs, cats and a whole lot of humans don't find them entertaining or amusing.
They're bad enough on July 4th. But on Aug. 3 at nearly 10 p.m., they indicate a complete lack of common courtesy on the part of whatever asshole is setting them off.
I can't help but jump to the conclusion that the assholes setting off the firecrackers are the same assholes who speed by my house.
I guess I'm just getting crotchety in my old age. But I'd like to go down there and ring his neck.
Am I over-reacting?
There's an asshole in my neighborhood (pardon the expletives that I have chosen NOT to delete) who thinks it's fun to set off firecrackers.
The problem with firecrackers - in addition to the fact that they're against Florida law unless used in agriculture - is that dogs, cats and a whole lot of humans don't find them entertaining or amusing.
They're bad enough on July 4th. But on Aug. 3 at nearly 10 p.m., they indicate a complete lack of common courtesy on the part of whatever asshole is setting them off.
I can't help but jump to the conclusion that the assholes setting off the firecrackers are the same assholes who speed by my house.
I guess I'm just getting crotchety in my old age. But I'd like to go down there and ring his neck.
Am I over-reacting?