I Left a Hot Pot of Coffee for This?

It's early, and eerie, and I’m getting goose flesh as my morning walk leads me into some really dense fog. I have to push myself across the threshold of hesitation, for who knows what lurks in this heavy haze? And to think, I left a hot pot of coffee for this.

Each day is a gamble, but most days, I’m bright blue with optimism—the sky is mine, as is the sun and the moon. But on foggy mornings, when my faithful witnesses have vanished, and the familiar markers of life have morphed into storybook giants, angry she-bears, and spiky plants with mean points waiting to poke out my eyes, how do I motivate myself to keep moving? Do I continue on only because walking backwards is impossible?

I’m amazed at the amount of faith I have in the moment—this flash of now that calls itself life and holds everything with such casual tension, often disarming me by droning on and on like a monotone math teacher, and then shifting my world with sudden brilliance like so many stars kaleidoscoping from heaven.

I move forward, trusting that the odds are indeed allies.

The Itsy Bitsy Vacation

Mike and I are back from a much needed vacation, and although it went by far too quickly, I was amazed at how much fun we could squeeze into four little days. I’d say the absolute best part of the trip was seeing my in-laws. (No, I’m not joking.) We hung out at their place chatting, went out to eat, and even caught the final launching of the Space Shuttle Discovery right from their front lawn. Okay, we could only see its jet stream, but it was still very cool.

Mike’s dad has a knack for knowing the “in” places to go, so he steered us to a little place called The Old Key Lime House in Lantana Florida, just outside of Palm Beach, where they are rumored to have the best key lime pie in the state. Well, after a yummy lunch we ordered a slice of their famous pie with four forks……. BIG MISTAKE! After one bite I was hooked and ready to use my desert fork to stab any incoming hands. They should have named it key lime heroin pie because it was totally addictive!

That night we buzzed over to Bill and Charlie’s condo overlooking the ocean. They agreed to put us up for the weekend and even gave us their master suite. Their place was gorgeous, decorated in an Egyptian motif so luxurious that Cleopatra would have felt every bit of her queenliness living there. I could have done without the stuffed tarantula mounted on the bedroom hallway wall (just walking past it gave me the heebie jeebies) but I’d been meaning to work on my arachnophobia issues anyway.

The next day we swung by and kidnapped my recluse cousin, TJ, and then headed to the casino. We’re not big gamblers, unless you count using the rhythm method those ten years before my hysterectomy, but we had put aside a small budget just for gambling figuring we’d lose it all any way. Okay, I was hoping to hit the big one, but I wasn’t saying it out loud for fear of jinxing myself. In hindsight I can see that that theory doesn’t work. We gambled until Mike’s back started kinking, and cousin TJ’s gimpy hip gave out.

That evening we were invited to Italian night at Bill and Charlie’s condo. We were served a six course Italian dinner which consisted of pasta & sauce, stuffed pasta, spicy pasta, chicken with pasta, pasta balls and pasta salad. After the carb loading came the dancing part of the evening, and the music was …..Are you ready?........Italian! So, there was a lot of folk dancing going on with hand holding, skipping in circles, and at one point I was forced to crouch down Quasimodo style and dance under an archway of arms. While pushing through the fleshy tunnel, the old man behind me started scratching at the bare skin on my back just above the beltline of my jeans. My creep-o-meter registered at about 10.5.

Mike went home shortly thereafter, leaving me to fend for myself. I did enjoy a few dances with some of the feisty foreigners there. One gentleman was as round as he was high (about 5 ft nothing and didn’t speak a word of English) but he was light on his feet and had a gorgeous smile. Then Charlie and I showed off for a while on the dance floor doing a mix of dirty dancing and classic ballroom, complete with hot angry looks (tango style). I live for moments like that!

Saturday morning I woke up with “Bed Face.” That’s when the wrinkles in the bedding become embossed on your face. I looked like I had a terrible scar going down the entire right side of my cheek. It was ragged and red…..and looked a little like the bolt of lightning that runs across Harry Potter’s forehead. When I was young Bed Face would go away after about ten minutes, but the older I get the longer it takes to go away. Saturday’s Bed Face lasted 5 hours…ARG!! Luckily I didn’t have any public appearances planned and was able to practically ignore the whole ugly incident.

So Sunday we returned home and resumed dealing with all the big stuff that earns us the right to take our little vacations. In the morning we went to the beach, had lunch at our favorite restaurant, and then we visited some friends before coming back home to watch a movie. It’s not easy getting back into the daily grind of Florida living, but I suppose we can hack it until we shuffle off to Miami next weekend for a wedding.

Vacation Anxiety...Really???

My husband Mike and I are about to head out on a much deserved two day vacation. Okay, maybe it’s just a staycation, seeing that we’re not going far, but being in Florida…in February, makes even a staycation something special. We’re heading across the state to Fort Lauderdale, where white sandy beaches, interesting restaurants, and friends and family are awaiting us.

It’s been a while since we’ve gone away and I have a shopping list of activities planned, including a trip to the Hard Rock, and a night of romantic dancing. Getting away from my normal routine is going to be so rejuvenating….and a bit unnerving. I know, silly me, but being a creature of habit, and somewhat of a control freak, leaving the predictable, and mundane, cradle of my existence for the wide open world, where anything can happen, has set my nerves on edge a bit. I guess it’s like getting the jitters on an airplane, or right before the wedding. You know what? This little talk really isn’t helping so let’s move on here.

My son has agreed to dog watch for us, and although I know he’s perfectly capable, a part of me is a tad worried…okay I’m kind of freaking out. He’s great with my 4 lb Chihuahua, really, but he is a bit clumsy….. why do I do this to myself?

It's just that I can’t help it if I’m overly protective about my dog. I guess I’ve bonded with her in ways that I haven’t with my kids. For one thing I obviously didn’t give birth to her so I carry no guilt for her genetic weaknesses; like the kink in her tail, or her overbite. Plus, she never argues with me, or asks me for money, and I have never had to apologize to her for the way I raised her. She loves me just as I am and all I have to do is keep her food and water bowls filled and show her some affection. I need my dog around to worship me unconditionally. You know I never thought I’d be the type to get stupid over a pocket puppy, but there it is.

In spite of everything I really am excited about getting away, and chilling on the beach with a good book and a cold drink. I should buy a new bathing suit though because mine is awful. Actually, it’s not the bathing suit so much as it is my dimpling thighs and Elmer’s Glue pallor. I wish they designed bathing suits with built in panty hose. This staycation thing isn’t as pretty as it appears on the surface. Pray for me…I’m heading out!