May 16, 2005

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  It was a grueling trip back.  The plane was late and they’d over-booked the flight so we sat in Dallas, waiting.  I got home at 1:00 a.m., which was 4:00 east-coast time.  It’s raining here and will be the entire week.  When I checked weather.com and saw pictures for rain from now ’till Sunday it seemed to depict my mood.  

  
  

  My oldest daughter stayed here with her boyfriend and took care of the dogs and cat.  I found a knob on the kitchen counter, the one from the oven that controls the temperature.  She or he had snapped it right off.  No way to fix it.

  
  

  Which brings up the whole remodeling issue; that I need to start.  Where is the team of housekeepers?  I miss the gleaming tile floors and the fresh towels.  Living in a small, beautifully decorated condo overlooking the beach, which they would clean while we were out, makes coming home hard.

  
  

  I miss the sun and drinks by the pool.  Yeah, I wasn’t gonna drink and I was going to eat right but I didn’t.  I gained a lot of the weight back.  It was worth it, though.  I ate things like country-fried steak with greens and lima beans that were white.  We sat in a glider of a picnic table eating catfish and conch by the water but the best was all the fresh fruit. 

  
  

  I read “Good Grief,” by Lolly Winston.  It was perfect for the plane.  It’s her first book and I thought she did a great job.  Some of it was really quite good.

  
  

  This was the last year I will take a child to Florida, or anywhere else on vacation.  Traveling with a 17-year-old is not something you do.  And I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate that.  “That” being contrary, indifferent, moody; all the natural states which serve to help 17-year-olds push away out into the world, on their own.  Not in a small car in a foreign state, lost most of the time. 

  
  

  The kind of map I needed I didn’t have so I winged it.  That involved driving around a bit.  I admit it was exasperating and I kept a running commentary talking myself through the more harrowing navigational fetes (U turns on freeways).  Her sense of direction is as bad as mine so at the first hint of trouble her seat would go back and she would feign sleep.  But really she would be awake, putting out this vibe of despair.

  
  

  I think it came from having moved over here where no amount of looking at a map helped me get the real lay of the land.  It was those hours of driving around lost that taught me where things were, in relation to lines on the map.  I explored new territory this time, without specific destinations so I had no directions.  Dumb move.  I should have anticipated driving her nuts.

  
  

  Soooo, anywho, I am back.  Filled with a general sense of relief mixed with a sort of limbo.  Underneath that, though, is fear.  Now that my vacation is over I am supposed to be getting started on the house, getting the book done enough to send out ( I was waiting until the trip to fill in parts that took place there) but scariest of all, is the job.  I need to work. 

  
  

  But before I fixate on real life let me tell you about something hopeful.  I saw some men I liked the looks of.  I suspect they were all boaters, yachtsmen.  And that could be problematic — I get seasick — or not.  They looked happily independent.  I’m thinking in a few years, when maybe I can spend a month instead of a week, I might start up a long-distance relationship with someone.  It was just encouraging to actually see men I could imagine kissing. 

  
  

  I just talked with the oldest, the one who broke the stove.  We’re going to work out on Wednesday.  Something about talking to her cheered me up.  I am happy to be home living a life I can actually sustain.  Everything is so expensive there and it feels too hot.  People either have too much money or nowhere near enough, it seems like.  It boggles my mind how you could have a big fancy yacht, a summer home, and a place in Florida, even if it is just a condo on the intercoastal.  Who are these people?  You see them parking the boats and they look like everyday folks.  The one thing that really struck me about them was the gleam in their eyes.  These older men who would be getting coffee or groceries to take back to the boat, they had a sense of adventure about them: places to go, things to see; nothing complacent about them. 

  
  

  I would never want to spend the kind of money it would take for a condo but I think I will be able to find a small apartment I could rent for a month or maybe trade my home for theirs.  The thing that’s so important about trips is to get to someplace different where you can see new possibilities.  Instead of falling into limbo (not here, not there)  I need to focus on what I saw that I should bring into my life:  Cleanliness, those gleaming Mexican tiles on the way to the elevator, happy music played out by the pool, getting dressed in a cute outfit every morning.  I think each week I should investigate some fun new place I’ve never been, the kind you read about in Sunset.  And each week I should go look at things like tile or new stoves.  I should start a file with a collection, from magazines, of design ideas for the bathrooms and the kitchen.  But the first thing I’m going to do is find some good Reggae to listen to.

  
  

   

  
  

   

  • 1:26 pm
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