12 Oakdale

 The first “bridge may freeze before roadway” sign, and I knew we were on our way. We’re not in Florida anymore. (My old marker for a trip was the Thomas B Manuel bridge over the Caloosahatchee. Going over that meant we were heading out of state.) I was sure we weren’t in Florida when the sign said “Left lane closed in 1 mile.”, and everyone immediately moved over to the right lane. Except me. I was thrilled traffic was easy, and I sped on down the highway. At “Left lane closed in 1/2 mile”, I realized I was the only one taking advantage of the open lane. Everyone else had dutifully moved over, and I was passing them by, butting in line. With my memorable red truck, I didn’t have the nerve to go right up to the end of the merger area, so tucked into an open space between two semis. These people would not survive South Florida I-95 traffic.  Three long days of driving up Florida and Georgia, across Tennessee and Kentucky, touching Illinois, across and up Missouri, kissing Iowa,...

  I gave up trying to reinstall the small tent’s windows with seam sealer and just taped in a double layer of plastic bag with Gorilla Tape. When we get back, we can send it to the manufacturer for repair. We’d already spent hours getting off the old coating and reapplying a polyurethane to the inside of the fly. Just need to spray the outside with waterproofing. We can always cover the whole thing with Tyvek sheeting if it rains.  The new part for our camp stove didn’t fit because it was for a different brand. So close. Off to Walmart to buy a new stove since REI and BassPro Shop were both out. I had wanted a gas one like we used for years, but there were none to be had at this late date. We are stuck with using the 1# propane cylinders, at least for this trip. Another thing to think on when we get back.  Now it’s a matter of arranging all our supplies in the truck. We’ve decided to put our warm clothes in a big plastic box I got at the Container Store (definitely truth ...

Today was Clara’s last day of elementary school. [Fill in all the cliches of time speeding by, she can’t be that old, etc.] She vacillates between a delightful, pleasant child to the surly middle schooler we may have in our future.  We celebrated with spaghetti, brownies, and ice cream at our house. 

And just like that, the pandemic is over. Yesterday, the head of the Centers for Disease Control announced that fully vaccinated Americans could do anything they want, close in and unmasked, indoors and out. Except at places that still require them, like airports, planes, and hospitals. Of course, since only about 40% of American adults are vaccinated, and those that refuse to be are the most adamant about not wearing masks, I wonder how this will all play out. The mutants are among us. I am in San Diego for a few days to get a quick visit before the summer. No gardening or lifting grandchildren to give my shoulder a rest. Even with physical therapy, ice, and ibuprofen, it still hurts like the bejeezus. I continue with the exercises, graduating from 1# to 2# weights soon. Would that the CDC could declare my aches over too.  Bella and Doug In the mean time, I sit and watch hummingbirds bathe in Mary’s fountain and lesser goldfinch eat niger from the bag she hung right outside her fr...

I have succeeded in raising four functioning adults. As much as I’d like to fine tune my children, they don’t need me too. Nor do I really want to. Actually, that’s not true. I so do want to. But I know it wouldn’t be good for them or me.  Now what? Saturday, at Wild Pines, the covenant group I belong to, we discussed describing our life in one sentence. Both as an epitaph and as a guiding light. My first thought was about my role and goals as a mom. However, that was just one section of my life. Yes, a very important section of my life, but just a section. There was a before, and now, an after.  Even when I was young, I was a feminist. I was appalled that my Sunday School teacher, who attended divinity school, couldn’t be an ordained minister because she was she not he. I quit working for Georgia Life Insurance when I realized I would never be moved to management. Only men did, even though I handled the Georgia Power account, normally the first step on the ladder to the C-sui...

We have been in Windermere a year, a surreal year. Dream time, or perhaps, a nightmare. I can’t keep dates in my head. Time seems compressed, yet without any boundaries. When did we go to Morocco? Where did we celebrate Christmas last year? Was it really two years ago that we sold 14th Court and moved to Key Biscayne? No matter. We are healthy, wealthy, and somewhat wise. We are vaccinated. We are so very lucky. Life is good.

Our Toyota Tacoma arrived and is in our garage. Sebastian called yesterday mid-morning. Could we come pick it up, and, of course, pay for it? Absolutely, if we could be guaranteed to be finished by 2:00, because our screen guy Mike was finally coming to fix pool screen panels which had blown in during a cold front 2 weeks ago. He was supposed to come Friday, but bad weather earlier in the week had messed up his schedule. Saturday, he ran late. Finally, Monday for sure. We’ve had a couple of birds fly in, which, thank goodness, were able to find their ways back out. Not so lucky were the 10+ butterflies who died before finding the huge opening they’d managed to fly in through. I’ve been able to grab a couple and throw them out. The rest avoided my trying to guide them out with our long handled pool skimmed. They now are displayed with other bugs, wasp nests, snake eggs, etc I’ve found in the yard this year. My deadline is not a problem. Should be quick in and out. We were paying cash, p...