Ode to "The Road" -- My Story of Purgatory

(Obviously to understand this expertly written, artistic, flowing poem, it is important to have read my previous blog entitled, "The Road to . . . is paved with Gingerbread". Not that I'm promoting my fine writing, but Richard thought my poem was about being a squished worm in the road. Do men blog? And don't be embarrassed for me if it isn't the best poem you've ever read. Be embarrassed for me because I am well aware of it, and still posted it!)

For weeks I have been reminded,
That I was a little behind-ed.
I could have stood immovably firm,
But, alas, I was a spineless worm.

After some substantial knee time,
I have repented of my awful crime.
A resolution of steadfastness has been made,
So time in purgatory won't have to be paid.

The purpose of my penatent sonnet?
To say "Stay off that 'Road' - don't ever go on it!"
Heed my warning and remember, always,
Store up your Neccos, and don't shop on Sundays.

Aide Memoir, today I bid you farewell,
And vow to forever avoid the road to h-e-toothpicks.






(It's in the hopper! Another reason not to hot glue your gingerbread house. It lasts until the wonderful gingerbread aroma is replaced with the smell of dust!)

UNCLE

Michael used to tackle Marie and I and give us "wet willies" or wedgies or do Chinese water tortures until we would scream, "Uncle." (That meant we gave up and admitted he was the supreme power among the siblings.) I probably gave up the minute he'd look at me and wet his finger. Marie, on the other hand, held out strong. Torture her as long as you want. She wouldn't cry "Uncle". I have always wanted to be brave and unyielding like Marie.




Am I stronger and tougher now than I was then? I'd like to think so.


Just a thought as I contemplated my visit to Florida this past week.

So the trip.
As I drove to Las Vegas, I listened to the breaking news story of the plane crash in the Hudson River. I listened to it the entire 2 hours to the airport. It was important for me to hear that everyone was rescued. "Uncle" probably came to mind, but "BEACH" rang more loudly in my ears. News reports were not being shown in the airport, by the way. Safe arrival and happy to have my feet back on sandy soil.



Florida-Clearwater is beautiful. I love it there. A cold snap had chased the unseasonable 79 degrees away. In it's place was a windy 62. A quick trip to WalMart for a hoodie and then the sunset. I wasn't about to cry "Uncle", but beach time was definitely going to be limited.



We also went to the Aquarium. The photo (below) may look like floating sea weed at first glance, but its actually a sea horse. Below the sea horse are alligators. These look like they're floating, but they're standing. I always thought that they were floating when you see their little heads at water level, but they were standing on logs and rocks. The things you learn.



Saturday, hmmm . . .let me just skip to Sunday, even with the cold, Sunday was better than Saturday's events. Up early and prepared to attend church. Can't get far without your keys, which happen to be on the other side of the locked door. Locksmith and an hour visit with Larry and Rose, our neighbors, while we waited. We are the youngest couple in our community. Missed the first meeting was all.

Finally, a day at the beach. Beautiful sun, white sand, hardly a crowd at all. It was a great day . . .but it was cold. Marie would be proud-I stuck it out. "Uncle"? Not me! I was going to enjoy the beach today, no matter what.



Then we drove up to Honeymoon Island, a small coral and shell beach island north of Clearwater, to watch the sunset. WIND. COLD WIND. But what a great place for shell hunting and gorgeous sunsets.




We bade farewell to the beach as Boris, the 7 foot tall, taxi driver with a deep Russian accent, picked us up. Boris' favorite word? "BOOM!"
Boris: "One time, I get to light and BOOM! Brakes no work. I push hard on peddle-BOOM! Straight through light. I miss pedestrians and BOOM! hit curb. I don't go through Mini Mart."
My thought: "Boris, please stop saying BOOM!"
Boris: "Let me over . . .BOOM! Thank you. Ahhh, look out dumb driver! BOOM! We make it."

Boris' dispatcher kept calling him about a passenger he needed to pick up.
"Can't write number, driving passengers right now," Boris said. So with the radio in one hand, he picked up his cell phone with the other hand and entered the number. Who's got the wheel, Boris?


As we approached the airport, dispatch called back. Boris quickly told them he couldn't talk, he was "making the drop off"! All through the ride, I was gripping Richard's knee and texting about my plight to anyone who would help. A "farewell dear family" gesture, I suppose! Nanette texts me back with a suggestion that I ask for a photo. (You see how brave I was-photo from the back seat) and Ron helped by saying, "Better Russian saying BOOM! than terrorist saying BOOM!" Thanks, guys!

We arrived safely at the airport and I felt as though I'd been as lucky as the passengers of the Hudson River landing! The flight home was full of such turbulance that we discussed not making it home safely and getting our affairs in order if we do. BOOM!
Marie, I'm still not crying "Uncle". I'll do it all again as soon as I can! BOOM!



Honeymoon Island Sunset~enjoy!