Mr. Moon and I are home from our three-day weekend in beautiful Apalachicola, Florida where the weather was perfect, the food was delicious, and we had a very fine time celebrating our anniversary which is actually today although we're both either so exhausted or so relaxed (hard to tell) that neither one of us can stop yawning and I swear, we would both love a nap but are too ashamed to admit it to the other.
I mean a deep-sleep-drool-on-the-pillow kind of nap, just in case you're wondering. Not the other kind.
This morning as we were walking to breakfast at the crack of 9:30, we saw the truck with the kayaks AND the bicycles on it and Mr. Moon said, "Huh! We're up before they are!"
"I doubt it," I said. "They're probably out for a run."
However, we met them on their way back from the restaurant and it looked to me as if they'd already had a run and THEN their breakfast and so I could understand if we were those people, as to why we're so sleepy but let's face it- we are not.
When we were entering the restaurant, the two women I like the most in all of Apalachicola were coming out and they recognized me and I felt so honored. One was the Bookstore Lady and one was the lady who owns the coffee shop and about three other places and when we build our house there, I surely hope I get to be friends with both of them.
We shall see.
There sure were a lot of dogs around this weekend. Local dogs and tourist dogs. Yesterday when we were sitting on the porch, a couple came up from the lobby with their two Yorkies who were barely big enough to support the barrettes in their hair. One of the dogs was very, very old and after climbing the stairs, she absolutely refused to take the ten steps to the room. She just sat there while the woman kept saying, "Come on. Come to mommy. COME ON! Get in this room!" Finally the woman walked over and scooped the dog up. I doubt the dog weighed more than a hankie and I couldn't understand why she didn't just pick the poor creature up to begin with.
It seems like one of the requirements for retiring in Apalachicola is to have a dog. Another is to have a golf cart to drive around in. The third requirement is that you have to drive around with your dog in the golf cart.
What's a chicken-loving, cat owner to do?
I'll never fit in. Never. Ever.
Speaking of cats, Maurice disappeared as soon as Hank got here to house-sit. I mean, he did not see her all weekend. I wasn't too worried because she's done this before but to be honest, I was a little concerned because she's my cat. As soon as we got home, we started calling her and sure enough, she popped back into the yard and seemed to be relieved to see us. I won't lie and say she seemed to be happy to see us. Just vaguely relieved. I don't think she really likes us that much but we seem to represent some sort of security for her. As she does for us.
And so we are home. The chickens all seem to be intact. The garden is full of weeds. We're so dry that everything is wilting and drooping and turning brown and not in a glorious fall kind of way. In a drought kind of way.
Nonetheless, it is grand to be home where our bed is, the most comfortable bed in the world, and where I am not forced to eavesdrop on the conversations of rich women who order a lot of food and then drink wine and eat a lettuce leaf while discussing where they're going skiing this year and then proclaim themselves too full to eat another bite, their entrees sitting in front of them, sad and unwanted and untouched.
Yes. Those women do have skinny butts. And everything else.
Someone cooks me a damn flounder with sea scallops I eat that sucker. You hear me? I EAT IT! I may even moan with pleasure and close my eyes and THEN I ORDER DESSERT!
Okay. We took the dessert back to the room.
AND WE ATE IT.
It was, in fact, a very hedonistic weekend in all ways and I don't regret one moment of it. We are getting a bit too old to be wild and certainly don't shut the town down (which in Apalachicola happens at approximately 10:15 pm) but we liberally enjoyed all the good things that time and opportunity presented us with. We even had a good walk on the beach and I started knitting a baby blanket with such thin and delicious yarn that it may be done in time for Owen's first baby.
Yawn. And yawn again.
We had a very, very good time and last night as we held hands across the table, we neither one of us had to say much. We both teared up, incredibly aware of how very lucky and grateful we are.
And then we ate all the food.
So much love...Ms. Moon