“Getting older is no problem. You just have to live long enough..” — Groucho Marks
Cruising down the Black River
I took a long bus ride to take a boat cruise down Jamaica's Black River. What a fantastic day it was. While I loved the colorful structures at the beginning of the trip, I also loved the more isolated stretches where egrets and herons stood watch of the river from the safety of the mangrove trees. -- Photo by Pat Bean
Versatile Blogger Award
Thank you Bella Remy http://bellaremyphotography.wordpress.com/ for giving me A Versatile Blogger’s Award, which means I am supposed to tell you seven things about myself. Huh… Let’s see…
I often start my mornings by listening to Helen Reddy’s recording of “I Am Woman Hear Me Roar.”
My mother called me Patsy Lee, unless she was mad at me. Then it was: Patricia Lee Joseph. Pat, however, is what I feel fits me.
I love bright colors and it doesn’t bother me at all if they clash.
The first time I walked into a newsroom, I knew it was where I belonged. And so it was for the next 37 years.
My early school-days nickname was Cootie Brain. I was so ashamed of it that I didn’t tell a soul until I was in my 50s. Today I feel that kids who don’t fit in are the lucky ones.
I must have both alone time and people in my life, which means my life is a constant juggling game.
And finally, I adore every single one of my followers. You’re an amazing bunch, and I’m having fun getting to know some of you better. And my thanks to all of you who have softened my recent blow from the loss of two pets with your heartfelt comments. The kind words did help.
Bean’s Pat: Chicks With Ticks http://tinyurl.com/6qpusvo Finding Walden.
Pat Bean's blog 
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Patsy Lee, eh? Great name for a southern and Texas belle! I almost got to be Jim Bob , but my dad changed the middle name when he filed the birth certificate. I knew more than a few double-named girls when I was growing up in Wichita Falls.
Remember the football player called Bubba Bean. No relation. It does seem that southerners do like double names. I hated being called Patsy Lee, especially after the first school valentine’s day when someone spelled it Pasty, and that’s what I was called ever after it seemed.