Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Santa Can't Swim

Last Saturday night, I walked to the beach and enjoyed my last Florida sunset.

The next day, I drove home with the dogs. The car was sort of packed.

When I got home, I realized something was different. This is not my mailbox.

I mean, it's the mailbox in front of my house, but when I left, it was a black plastic mailbox. Now it's a grey metal mailbox. With a huge dent. ???

The next day, school was canceled and Pat and Liz and I went out on an excursion.

The last time the three of us were together, we were having a Florida Adventure. Let's take a look at what we did, shall we?
Liz at Babcock Ranch - ta da!

We took a cool tour through swamp land and saw cypress knees, wild boars, turkeys, Florida cracker cattle and GATORS!!

Other than someone's grandson, we were the youngest people on the tour.

We went to the Italian market and got all kinds of goodies, including fresh, warm mozzarella cheese. And this chocolate ganache cake.

It was quite a party.

Back in Ohio (and stark reality), we went to lunch at Bob Evans and had cherry pie at the Kewpee. For entertainment, our tour was to the nearby Goodwill and Tractor Supply. Yes, it was just a bit different of an experience.

But even though this was my welcome home:

It was okay. These same friends (and Sue!) cleaned my house before I got home. They rock. It's not where you are, it's who you're with.

Besides, small towns always have some weird crap that can never be matched in a big city. For instance, there's the local Christmas display in the park. Each year, there's some kitschy and probably offensive scene to visit. And sometimes the weather is so bad, they keep it up until the snow melts. And with snow melt and torrential rains, it's even a more interesting display:

There's only so much fresh mozzarella can do for you.

Please note that is a small plastic Santa, not Sue.