Hi, Dear Readers. Glad to be back with you. See this? In case you don’t recognize it, it’s the women’s public bathroom in Pompano Beach, Florida.
I hope that you’re ooohing and aahing and suitably impressed with the the amenities.
You’d better be.
It was my bathroom/spa for a week.
Let me explain.
The Boyfriend and I just got back from a week in Florida.
The Fort Lauderdale area- with a side trip to Palm Beach.
Now I know that in the past I have blasted Florida. “It’s too humid. The people are so old. The weather can be iffy. It smells damp all the time. I’d rather be skiing.”
I whined about it a lot.
But I’m here today to deliver an official mea culpa.
I take back every unkind thought I have ever had about that glorious, sunshiny state.
(Okay. Maybe not every unkind thought. I still wouldn’t be too choked up if Naples disappeared into a great big sink hole.)
Sorry. I digressed. That pleasant daydream threw me off track…
From the moment we landed, the weather was dreamy.
Mother Nature came through like aces.
78-80 degrees EVERY day.
Blue, cloudless skies EVERY day.
In a word…
Perfect.
Sigh. Just remembering the balm breezes and the warmth of the sun makes me go all melty inside.
But I still haven’t explained my new bathroom situation.
If you’re from Chicago, you know how the weather has been lately.
Awful.
Cold, gray and gloomy. Typical January.
I have been feeling lousy, too. Cold, gray and gloomy, as well.
Honestly, I started feeling punk on December 26 and it hung on for three weeks.
(TB wasn’t doing so hot himself. Cold, cough, temperature. That sort of icky flu thing.)
Time for some R and R.
So we hopped a flight and ended up in Florida.
Where we found Paradise with Palm Trees.
And from the moment we got off the plane, I made a sacred vow.
NO going inside when the sun was up.
Ever.
Every meal outside.
TB was on board.
He’s cool.
The first night we ate shrimp watching the boats go by on the Intracoastal.
That was a piece of cake. Outside tables and waiters and everything.
The next morning’s breakfast proved more challenging.
I wanted a bagel. A good bagel.
And I found one. OMG did I find one.
It was at this place.
The Bagel Snack.
Their pumpernickel and marble rye bagels looked scrumptious. TB had his eye on a raisin one.
We placed our orders- to go, natch- and when they were done, we took them outside to devour.
One problem though.
No outside seating.
Hmmm.
We looked around the entire little strip mall.
Nada place to park our carcasses and eat our bagels. I was crestfallen.
But TB is resourceful. (And he hates to see my crest fall.)
“I know what to do. You hold the bagels and I’ll get the beach chairs.”
And faster than you could say “Jackie Mason,” he had set up our beach chairs in the Bagel Snack parking lot.
It was awesome.
I was happy. TB was happy. But the next morning, when we went back to do a rerun breakfast, we were in for a tiny shock.
The counterman was waiting for us.
“You know you caused a big thing around here. But I took up for youse guys. They were all surprised that you were sitting in the parking lot. But I said it’s probably cause they come from way up north somewhere where they don’t see the sun. Am I right?”
“You don’t know how right you are,” I said. “Thanks for defending us.”
“How long are youse guys staying?” he asked.
“Not long enough,” I replied sadly.
“Good answer.”
And this time, when we took our bagels and our chairs into the parking lot, all the countermen came out to look and gave us their approval.
Well, I bet you get the idea now.
Every waking moment that we were lucky enough to be in good with Ma Nature, we lived outside. If you couldn’t do it outside, we didn’t do it.
(Okay. This morning at the track was overcast. But it cleared up right away.)
Eating and drinking outside at the Funky Buddha Brewery. (TB had the beer flight. I had the oyster crackers.)
Relaxing in Palm Beach. (I know. Linen wrinkles.)
Aaahhh. Just fabulous.
Already thinking about going back to Florida for my birthday.
There’s a beach and a bagel with my name on it.
Wishing all of you sunny skies.
