With apologies to our Northern friends who are experiencing the coldest winter in recent memory, I must say we are enjoying central Florida. Everett and I are not so far south as to be in tropical territory, but not so far north as to be cold. As a matter of fact, Monday was a balmy 70 degrees Fahrenheit and the sun was shining brightly. I decided to run a couple of errands in town while Everett was out golfing. I pulled on a pair of capri slacks, a short-sleeved top, and my flip flops, gave Tyler Dog his “you’ve got to stay in the RV” cookie, and headed to the local Winn Dixie for some groceries.
After finding what I needed – there’s a level of compromise when hunting for familiar ingredients in regions of the country that aren’t “home” – I headed for the checkout. As the friendly cashier scanned my items, I noticed the woman in line behind me. She was a few years younger than I am and dressed completely different. SHE was wearing a vest over a thermal, waffle weave, long-sleeved Henley-style shirt, heavy sweatpants and sneakers with thick socks. She looked me up and down a couple of times. She smiled. And said, “Y’all one of them snowbirds, ain’t ya?” She then proceeded to try to sell me a couple of acres of swamp land along the Withlacoochee River that had been in her family “for generations without doing us much good.” I believe I was lucky enough to experience the rare sighting of a native Floridian!
Happy New Year’s everyone! I love the idea of starting over every January. Cleansing the home and the soul and making resolutions and good intentions and just . . . renewing oneself. Part of my renewal this year is to reconnect and stay connected with our friends and relatives from home while Everett and I stay happily retired and far south of New England. To that end, I wrote holiday letters to several folks back home and was thrilled to get one back from Dot and Roger Mitchell.
Dot and Roger have been married forever – they met in kindergarten and never really looked at anyone else. They’re both good Swamp Yankees who know the value of a dollar and get every penny’s worth out of every one. They’re also the product of the 60’s sexual revolution, which seems to come up in every conversation. Dot wrote that since Roger retired last summer things haven’t been “up to snuff” in that area and she was getting disgusted with him. “There’s nothing wrong with his prostate or his blood pressure,” she relayed. “It just seems like he doesn’t THINK about it anymore!” Well Dot has never been one to sit back and let things slide, so she started researching on the Internet and discovered a whole new world of aids and supplements. “He won’t take Viagra again ’cause the lights danced in his eyes and the package said that wasn’t good. Well, it was good enough when we were kids dropping acid!” she noted. (perhaps I shouldn’t have shared that bit . . .)
Dot has settled upon an herbal supplement called Horny Goat Weed. It’s supposed to get a man to “thinking about it” again. She’s quite happy to have found a supplier with a “buy one, get one free” policy and has been adding the powder to Roger’s supper for a couple of weeks now*. I hope her next letter will let us know if 2014 started off with a bang!
*Please note that I am NOT condoning nor promoting such behavior!