Welcome to Simon, come back Julie, and the ER

     It soon became evident that Gracie and I alone are not a family. We need a cat. So I began to befriend the feral cats in downtown Cedar Key. After many days of feeding and petting the creatures and observing which ones tolerated Gracie, I introduced the cat carrier. When a male Bengal ducked in to grab the cat food, I zipped it up. Welcome home, Simon.
     Taming a feral is a challenge. Simon spends most of his time under the passenger seat. He comes out to eat and use the litter box, and prowls around at night. He hisses loudly and runs if I even try to approach him. We’re making a little progress; he will eat in my presence, take a nap on the dash with his back to me, make eye contact and relax his eyelids when observing me, and allow me to get between him and his safe spot. He hopped across me last night to get to food I left for him on the kitchen table. Time will tell.
     Thanksgiving was as wonderful as last year was awkward. Bruce and Roberta smoked one turkey, roasted another, and baked a ham. All the campers contributed side dishes, and we ate on the gathered picnic tables (yep, the ones I painted) outside the clubhouse. The weather was perfect, the food was so good, and the company was wonderful.
     I made a squash dish. I couldn’t figure out the stove (stop laughing), but discovered that my microwave is also a convection oven. It’s totally cool. Okay, so it’s been over a year since I actually cooked anything serious, as evidenced by the fact that I didn’t know how to use the oven.
     My sister-in-law Julie came to visit from Ohio for five days, and we had a wonderful time. We packed a lot into five short days. I picked her up at the cute little Gainesville Regional Airport (short-term parking costs $1) and we started with a visit to the Kanapaha Botanical Gardens where we wandered around looking at all the beautiful Florida plants. I took notes, of course, for the park. We went to Homosassa Springs State Park to take a boat ride and stroll the park-like setting that is home to all the Florida wildlife, including the amazing manatees. We took a Cessna ride over the islands that make up the Cedar Keys, then a two-hour boat tour for a closer look. We ate at the beautiful Island Room to look over the Gulf at sunset. We had a drink at the Tiki Bar. We ate way too much good food. Our strangest adventure was the Spirit Walking Tour of Cedar Key by Miss Debbie who was flamboyantly dressed all in black, visiting all the places haunted by the ghosts of Cedar Key. (“There’s something wrong with that woman,” commented one of the local clammers who had seen us on the tour.) We had a wonderful time, and didn’t get to do half the things I wanted to do.
     Last Friday I thought I picked up a touch of food poisoning. I was able to control the effects with Immodium until Monday, when the Immodium no longer worked. By Tuesday afternoon I could not even sip water without starting an unpleasant chain of events. Tuesday evening my neighbors Cathy and Bill persuaded me to go to the emergency room in Crystal River, an hour drive. Six hours, one bag of fluid, two big injections of pain killer and anti-nausea drugs and I was feeling like I might live. I’m still weak, but recovering quickly. Tomorrow I get the results of all the tests they took on all my body fluids. I’m hoping it was just stomach flu. 
     Last week I tore out a large flower bed overgrown with succulents and weeds, dug out the depleted soil, wove a soaker hose through the lattice fence, painted the fence, layered 200 pounds of good soil and replanted it with a dozen new plants from the flea market designed to attract butterflies. I’m loving December in Florida.

TastyKakes and The Blessings of Life

     The grief becomes less raw every day. I can think of Dylan and smile now. The night before the accident, he protested coming in at dusk. I picked him up and held him like a baby on his back and rubbed his pumpkin belly and told him what a good boy he was, how much I loved him, and how lucky I was to have him in my life. He nestled in my arms and purred. 
     The most amazing gift arrived Wednesday. Mrs.Gibson is the mother of my best friend growing up, and still lives two houses from my childhood home in Pennsylvania. Betty Jane and I remained connected for 50 years, even living together for a while in Maryland. There are few memories of my childhood that do not include B.J. and her brother Russell. She saw me through marriages and divorce, the birth of my son and the death of both my parents. She was in her early 50s when she underwent gall bladder surgery, a procedure she described as “drive-by surgery.” At home recovering that evening, her mother at her side, she collapsed and died, apparently of a pulmonary embolism. I kept in touch over the years, sending notes and cards to Mrs.Gibson for holidays and birthdays and whenever she or B.J. crossed my mind.. 
     I received a box of goodies from The Pennsylvania General Store: cookies from the Melrose Diner, hard pretzels and sweet mustard, chocolate drops, candy, and, best of all, a box of TastyKakes. There was a simple note that said, “Glad you are keeping in touch. Happy Halloween. Mrs. G and Russell. It was like a long-distance hug of comfort food at a time when I so needed a hug. The timing was uncanny.        
     The little awesome moments in my life are so wonderful that the sweetness has helped soothe my grief. I did get to go scalloping when the season was extended by one day. Wading around in the warm Gulf water at low tide, feeling the soft muck beneath my feet (I was wearing river shoes), looking for the stream of bubbles from the scallops as they tumble was a blast. After about two hours as the tide came in, we had a nice haul of scallops.
     I came home to an outdoors dinner party at Lorie and George’s , clams and shrimp and vegetable skewers cooked over the coals. I brought fresh scallops and brown rice. After a hot shower and some good wine, the food was some of the best I ever had.
     I accompanied Lena to the charming little town of Trenton. While Lena was picking up meds at the veterinarian, I explored the nearby quilting and antique shops. Quilting is a huge pastime here, and the shops are a maze of incredible color and patterns.
     Lena and I split the cost of gas to go shopping in Crystal River. I loaded up on plants at Home Depot and Kmart, found a couple new shirts at a consignment shop, and located a decent health food store.
     One of the few drawbacks of living here is the nearest movie theater is 60 miles away. I ordered The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel and The Descendants DVDs. Lena, Lorie and I had a movie night in Lories new RV with a huge TV and Surround Sound. Lounging on the couch, sipping wine and eating crackers with mullet dip with friends is better than any theater.   
     Weekend before last was The Seafood Festival in downtown Cedar Key. There were 150 vendors with all kinds of craft and art, and seafood vendors in the city park on the beach. Gracie picked out two types of homemade dog treats. I bought earrings, butterflies made from recycled soda bottles, goat milk soap, and a few other goodies. I ate grilled shrimp and clam chowder in the park while a local band played.
     I learned to kayak. Lorie and I borrowed two kayaks and headed out into the open water. It is much easier than I expected, and being in the middle of the water I love so much was amazing. I have begun looking at purchasing a kayak.
     I now have a car. I bought a 1985 Mercedes-Benz in excellent shape at a bargain price. It rides so smoothly and feels right. The maiden trip was to a flea market in Homossassa where I purchased a car load of plants. I appreciate all the blessings of my life, and my precious Dylan was an amazing blessing.  

      .   

Goodbye Dylan

     How can a day with so much potential for being wonderful turn so horrible so quickly? I returned from the morning chores to find my sweet Dylan hanging by his leash from a tree limb, dead. He’s never been a climber, so I can’t imagine how it happened. I still can’t believe he’s gone. Workampers Steve and Fred helped me bury him just outside, where he loved to roll in the dust. I’ve already been through the thousands of “If only”’s (If only I had just let him wander instead of keeping him on the leash, if only I had put him in the RV this morning, if only I hadn’t lingered over coffee at the café, if only his leash had been a foot shorter so he couldn’t reach the tree, etc. etc.). It doesn’t help—he’s gone. 

Alone is not Lonely?

     I had hoped to post some pictures of scalloping, but I was forgotten! I was invited and eagerly accepted, but the group left without me. No one was aware I was not there.  I am feeling very much alone, aware that I am responsible for my aloneness. I am trying to decide if this is an area of my life I should be working on.
     There are two new workampers who call each other “sissy” (as in sister). Their rvs are parked next to each other, you never see one without the other, they work together, and they talk all day to each other. They eat meals together, and share a car.  
     All summer long Miss Roberta kept saying that workamper Anita “takes care of me.” I was a little frustrated because I was trying to facilitate the smooth running of the café and park to the best of my ability. I took responsibilities off Roberta’s plate (cleaning the bathrooms, washing the café towels, getting ice for the café) and still Roberta waited for Anita to “take care of me.” Anita arrived. It's not the chores she does that makes Roberta feel cared for. She pats Roberta on the back, gives her a hug, and tells her it’s okay.
     It’s not that I don’t have friends. I skype nearly every Sunday with Amy, a friend from Arizona for 15 years. My sister-in-law Julie and I talk almost every week and are planning a vacation. I have two friends here in the park I talk to often, Lena and Lorie. There are a half dozen or so more I send notes to every few weeks, and I lost my friend of many years, Jayleen, in April.
     But I spend most of my time alone or with Gracie. There are days that I have no personal conversations with anyone. I engage in pleasantries and share work-related information, but neither reveal nor solicit personal exchanges. There are weeks (months?) that go by that I do not touch another human.
     I am aware that much of this is learned. My mother never had a “bff” who sat in the kitchen and drank coffee. Oprah says she had to learn to give hugs because she was never hugged as a child. It never occurred to me that I had to learn.
     I have never been motivated to change my behavior because I don’t mind being alone. Am I missing a dimension of life? Is this another aspect of low self-esteem, that I cannot imagine anyone wanting to be my bff? Do I see close friendship as impinging on my freedom?
     Today was the last day of scalloping, so I have missed an adventure. I wonder how many other opportunities I have missed because I don’t have close friends? I have always said being alone is not being lonely, but today the line is blurry.

Where's the Dog?

    I walked into a bar I had never been in before and a man I had never met asked, “Where’s the dog?” I love that Cedar Key is so small everyone knows me as Gracie’s mom. Yes, I am still in Cedar Key. Somehow one month has turned into five so far. Life has an easy rhythm. I clean, paint, and garden in exchange for rent, utilities, fresh eggs, free laundry, half-price meals, and an ice cream cone a day.
     The city of Cedar Key installed a reverse osmosis plant and the water is now excellent. Hurricane Isaac bypassed us with only a few light showers.
     Being parked a few yards from the water has a downside. Every Sunday I start the Goose and let her run for a bit. (Gracie gets excited and jumps into the passenger seat, ready to go). A couple weeks ago, she wouldn’t turn over. I had to clean all the terminals and connections between the four batteries and all the ground wires before she would fire up. All my tools are covered with rust. That’s the price for being able to watch five giant egrets tread through the water at low tide so smoothly they don’t even create a ripple, which is what I’m doing as I write this.
     Park resident Lorie and I did a complete room makeover on the living room of the park owners while they were on vacation. The room had previously been the motel office. We removed the counter, replaced the nasty carpet with laminate, painted the walls, refreshed all the woodwork, cleaned, and decorated with a combination of furniture from Vickie & Fred’s Almost New Furniture and finds in the various sheds on the property. It looks like something out of a magazine, and Roberta cried when she saw it. It’s the most fun I’ve ever had spending money on someone I care about.
     The park owners Bruce and Roberta treated all the workers to a lobster dinner (shipped from Maine, where they were vacationing) at a restaurant downtown as a thank you for keeping things going while they were gone. It was the first time I had ever tackled a whole lobster, and I just followed everyone else’s lead on how to crack the shell and dig out the succulent meat. So I learned how to eat Maine lobster in Florida.
     Another new experience has been the airboat. What a blast! It’s not like being on a boat at all—it flies smoothly over the water, mud, and swamp at breakneck speed. The airboat can go almost anywhere. The dolphins leap alongside the boat and drum fish wag their tails in the air as they feed off the bottom So amazing.
     I finally made it to The Tiki Bar, about 50 yards down the road. It’s a tiny bar with about 12 stools and a nice assortment of liquor, wine, and beer. It’s a fun little gathering place. I love listening to the people around me talk and tell stories. Manners are still quite formal here in the “old Florida.” I am “Miss Sharon,” to my contemporaries as well as those younger than me. I hear almost no profanity and never ever the f-bomb. I like it. I think being addressed with respect exacts a higher level of behavior.      

 

Go With the Flow

     The lesson this month is the power of water. I knew the coffee was tasting nasty, dosing Gracie with Pepto was becoming a daily ritual, the ice machine was giving half bags of really wet cubes, and the impatiens on the front porch of the café were looking sad, but I so take clean drinking water for granted, I didn’t add up the clues.
     The well that supplies water to Cedar Key was so low from prolonged drought that salt water found its way in and turned the tap water to brine. The water is still safe to shower, do dishes, cook, and even gargle, but it’s not drinkable. The fire department is providing potable and bottled water (via tanker trucks and pallets of plastic bottles) to residents and life is continuing as usual until they figure out some sort of desalination.
     Tropical Storm Debby dumped nine inches of rain in one day on Cedar Key. The sea rose to about halfway on the water front sites. (Campers had been moved to interior sites, of course). The park suffered only mild damage; about two days of sloshing in ankle-deep water picking up palm branches, tree debris, and the garbage left behind at the trash line of the high water and the park is back in shape.     
     The docks in downtown Cedar Key were all damaged, most beyond repair. The park owner, Bruce, lost his airboat dock. He retrieved a sink and cooler and some of the wood. His snack machine and freezer (loaded with bagged ice) floated away. The business owners along Dock Street didn’t try to keep the water out. They moved everything possible to a high level, opened the doors and allowed the inevitable to happen. Mike Seidel of the weather channel was sloshing along Dock Street and television cameras documented the waves splashing through the SeaBreeze Restaurant. Within a week, life had returned to normal. The tour boat owners fished the remains of their docks out of the sea and are operating out of the repaired city dock. The stores and restaurants are all clean and open.
     The park was more than half full for the holiday. The fireworks display was designed and executed by Bruce and a couple other business owners, from an old barge a hundred yards out in the inlet. It rivaled any professional display I’ve ever seen. The explosion of colors reflected in the water was breath taking. Gracie did not share my enthusiasm for the fireworks.
     My recent accomplishments include cleaning bathrooms, clearing the café porch of dead leaves, gardening, painting two old rockers, washing the kitchen towels, and chopping weeds along the water line. This morning I drove the boss’ car downtown to the hardware store to pick up four bags of ice and to the fire department for 16 gallons of water for the café, cleared leaves from around the motel and laundry, repotted three plants, and stashed the order of French fries and buns in the freezer. I’m still enjoying trading a little labor for my spot and utilities. When the time is right to move on, I think I'll know. I'm fine for now.
     I got my first social security check. It's a little strange not having to struggle to make a living. It is nice to see a plus in my checking account after nearly a year of all withdrawals.    
    The lessons I’ve learned in the last few weeks are about taking an essential for granted, battling the inevitable, and recovery. Sometimes the best way to survive is to go with the flow.                           

    

Old Woman with a Yellow Lab

     I met Hanne when I was working in 2010 for the man who scammed me out of $3,000 and ultimately led to the loss of my home. She was working part-time as his bookkeeper and we found we had common interests in enlightenment. Hanne is a head-turning tall Danish blond with a quick smile and a kind heart. I went with Hanne and her teenage son to spiritual events that in many ways paved the path to my current journey. Hanne’s son Meikel died last Friday after a year-long battle with alveolar rhadmyosarcoma, a cancer that invaded his chest. He would have been 15 years old in August. The chemotherapy was tortuous, the cancer was incredibly painful, and in the end he lost the battle. He was a good, kind, funny, spiritual soul. The world has been robbed of what he would have been.

     I Skyped (is that a verb?) with my friend Amy on Sunday. It was so good to see her while we chatted. I miss our Saturday night conversation over burritos at our favorite restaurant. Let’s see; a woman in her 60s and a woman in her 80s employing amazing technology to connect—probably not what the inventors of Skype envisioned.
     I continue to paint and garden, pick up cigarette butts and dog poop, clean bathrooms and remove palm fronds. In my free time I read and watch television, walk Gracie, and work Sudoku puzzles (my guilty pleasure). My favorite pastime, though, is people watching. This week there is a single’s group in the park. There are at least a dozen, mostly women. They spend an incredible amount of time talking, drinking and eating. I have been invited to join them. Maybe not.     
     I said good-bye to a friend today. He pulled in the beginning of May, towing a 1969 Mustang behind his RV, seeking calm and serenity to heal after deciding to end his marriage. He hired on with the park, clearing brush and tackling the backlog of maintenance and repair jobs. He’s tall and good looking with amazing blue-grey eyes. We both enjoyed working outside, independently, and we became fast friends. I knew it could be only friendship—I’m 15 years older than he is—but while I am very friendly, I don’t let a lot of people into my inner circle and I let him in. We more or less kept track of each other during the day, and it was nice to know he had my back. He helped with some repairs in the Goose and gave me rides into town, and we talked and laughed.   
     Last Tuesday I drove him to Chiefland to pick up a rental car (the Mustang is a work in progress) so he could travel to Georgia to see his soon-to-be-ex to settle some issues and (wait . . .we all know where this is going) they reconciled. I followed him into Chiefland this morning to return the rental car, and he pulled out this afternoon to meet up with his wife in Destin. I cannot believe how much I miss him already.
     I still believe there are no coincidences in the universe. I still don’t know why I am here or what the lessons are that I need to learn. Was I meant to help him? Or was there something he taught me?
     I wish my friend the very best, I really do. I hope someday when he and his wife are old and still in love, they can reminisce about the time in 2012 when they almost divorced and he went to Cedar Key and perhaps he will remember an old woman with a yellow lab and wonder what happened to her.    

Workamping, My First Massage and Gracie Gets Stoned

     After six months of being lazy, I am working again. In exchange for 24 hours a week of my time, my site and utilities are free. I don’t have a job description; I just do what needs to be done. I have done some gardening, cleaned bathrooms, vacuumed the clubhouse, helped make fudge, scrubbed picnic tables, washed down site signs, picked up cigarette butts and dog poop, removed a shelf from a wall and spackled the damage, scrubbed the mold off the ice machine, cleaned bugs out of light fixtures, and a variety of other chores. The construction and painting tasks (and fudge making) I do with Rose, a 72-year old elfin woman who has sign-making and construction expertise. A camper sought me out to shake my hand and tell me we keep things “rait nice ‘round here.” That’s my new goal—keeping things “rait nice.”
     I gave myself a birthday present; my first massage. I was very nervous. I am not a touchy-feely person, and I worried that I might recoil in discomfort. The experience was amazing. I expected a physical benefit, but was unprepared for the mental effect. Mary worked out the stress and tensions of my life as she unknotted my muscles, and I felt all the negativity in my life drain away.
     It has come to my attention that the majority of Floridians are not into health foods, as I have not found a health food store since Ohio. So I ordered amaranth, brown rice, flaxseed, Red Zinger Tea and Good Earth Tea from Soap.com. It’s nice to have amaranth for breakfast again. My boss, Roberta, loaned me her car for a trip to WalMart, so I’m, set for supplies for the next month
     Gracie has been having separation anxiety whenever I leave her for even a moment; I have to tie her to the outside of the shower room door or she barks and tries to crawl out the window of the Goose. And she still has PTSD from the pitbull attack whenever she sees a large dog. So I ordered ultra-calm pills from the Fosters and Smith website. The directions were one pill for each 50 pounds. Gracie weighs 102, so I gave her two Saturday. She was so stoned she couldn’t walk straight and her eyes wouldn’t focus in the same direction. I was waiting for the munchies to kick in. Sunday I tried just one pill, and she was much better. We were walking to the produce stand and she kept sitting down and just looking around, but when I reminded her we needed to be walking she was happy to oblige. I think I will save the pills for when I really need to leave her alone. The pills are just herbs, but they really affect her.
     I’m reading Drop Dead Healthy by A.J. Jacobs (a birthday gift on my Kindle from Lee), Daniel Pink’s book on motivation, and A Deep Breath of Life by Alan Cohen (a daily two-page meditation). Gracie and I walk to the beach every morning and sit on the sand sharing day-old biscotti from the bakery while I sip coffee and read. If the dolphins are out I get distracted, but most of the time I read a chapter or two. We’re back in the park by 9:00 and I go to work, usually cleaning the bathrooms post shower and then to whatever chore I have chosen for the day. Today I painted two picnic tables--different colors for each slat.
    Daytime highs are in the 80’s, sometimes close to 90, but most every day we have such a nice breeze off the water I seldom have to run the air conditioner in the Goose. Life is pleasant and easy.         

Jayleen

     I received a phone call today from a lady who said she was going through Jayleen’s possessions when she found my number, and thought she would let me know how much our friendship meant to Jayleen. My initial reaction was, “What’s this lady doing going through Jayleen’s stuff?” Then I realized that she was saying that Jayleen is dead.
     Jayleen died April 5^th, three weeks ago. She had battled fibromyalgia as long as I can remember. She started receiving massive doses of cortisone into her joints a couple years ago. Just after I left in September she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. We skyped a couple times. With her cat Jezebel on her lap and all her troll days surrounding her, Jayleen looked tired and bloated.. Her friend Karen let me know she had been admitted to hospice, and her mother and sister-in-law had visited. Karen said she would gain strength and appear ready to go home, then slip backwards again. According to the woman on the phone, her kidneys failed.
     I’m still reeling. I should have kept in touch better. I bought a beautiful card for her at the arts celebration this weekend. Too late. I am so glad we had the time last fall. We hadn’t seen each other in nine years, and the three weeks together were wonderful. I have survivor’s guilt. I am nine years older than Jayleen. Why Jayleen? 
      

     I’m trying to bask in the memory of the fun we had enjoying giant ice cream cones at Slugs and Stones at Brookings Harbor, and the stuffed shrimp at The Nautical Inn, the long walks on the beach, picking blackberries, crashing the wealthy developer’s house on the beach, the whale spotting, and watching the seals playing in the harbor. In retrospect, I don't know what I would have differently had I known time was so short. I guess that’s some comfort.  Good bye, my friend.      .  

Art, Music and Food in Cedar Key

     I love Cedar Key, so I decided to stay another month. My plan was to go to Chiefland to stock up on supplies early and move to the new, less expensive, site by noon. I have been noting problems with the starting system of The Goose since Ohio, and had all four batteries replaced in Alabama to try to resolve the issue (which didn’t work). I could never duplicate the problem when The Goose was being serviced, so my concern was dismissed. Being right is a small victory.
     I went to WalMart, then across the street to the Winn-Dixie. That’s when The Goose decided not to start. I called AAA. The suggestion was to have The Goose towed to Gainesville or Ocala. I called the mobile mechanic who had done some plumbing repairs to ask for his suggestion. He was close by on another call; he pulled in practically as I hung up. Five hours later, he had installed a new starter, in the parking lot. This is the second time AAA has been pretty much useless, and AAA for RVs is quite expensive.
     The new site is much more spacious, but I can’t get satellite service because of the trees. My friend Lee suggested a free-standing satellite dish that I could position away from the trees. Sometimes when I’m close to a problem I can’t see the solution. Lee’s good at that.
     Our new spot is near the club house, laundry, and showers. Dylan loves the action, and sits on the front dash directing traffic.  
     My birthday was wonderful. I received bunches of well wishes on Facebook. My son Michael, dear friend Amy, and sister Julie called. Gracie and I walked to Kona Joe’s café for breakfast—they have a deck where dogs are welcome. I bought dinner and a cupcake at the restaurant in the park, and Gracie, Dylan and I dined on our patio. Sandy at the produce stand gave me a birthday plant which is still blooming. Lee, currently in Asheville NC, gave me a book we had discussed to download on Kindle. 
     The best part is I’m 62 and eligible for a Golden Pass to camp at national parks for half price. And I get my first Social Security check in about 60 days.  
     I bought two new televisions to replace the old tubular behemoths in the Goose. The talented handyperson in the park is an elfin lady named Rose. She helped me remove the heavy wall mounted tv in the bedroom, and is going to help me install the new one when the mount arrives, and craft something to build in the television and DVD player in the front.     
     Gator meat is very good. It reminds me of wild rabbit (my dad hunted; venison, rabbit and pheasant were staples of my childhood). I tried a heart of palm salad made with lettuce, avocado, pineapple, chunks of heart of palm (reminds me of jicama), topped with pistachio ice cream! Interesting. Smoked mullet is a delight. Mullet is fished with a net because it’s vegetarian. It doesn’t keep. So the fisherman catch it, clean it, filet it open, smoke it, and sell it as a flat board at roadside stands. With a cup of famous Tony’s clam chowder from the restaurant downtown, it’s a gastronomical delight!
     This weekend was The 48^th Annual Celebration of the Arts. There were about 120 artists, in ceramics, fibers, glass, jewelry, mixed media, painting and pottery in booths lining the main street in Cedar Key. It was a feast for the senses; almost made me want walls to hang art. Gracie was unimpressed by the art, tolerated the crowds very well, and enjoyed the food vendors and music in the park. Art, music, and good food in the cool gulf breeze; my life is amazing. 

     .   

    

Easter in Cedar Key

     At five o’clock Sunday morning I was wondering about my sanity as I hit the snooze button and snuggled for the last few minutes with Dylan and Gracie. Gracie and I hiked a mile in the dark to the nondenominational Easter sunrise service on the public beach in Cedar Key. The weather was just chilly enough that hot coffee was welcome. There were about 100 people, some in Easter finery but most shivering in shorts and sandals. The sun rose majestically just as we sang “Christ the Lord is Risen Today.” The pastor’s brief, uplifting sermon compared the sun rising to the son rising. It was a beautiful spiritual experience.
    To add to the magic, on the way home as we passed over the Back Bayou Bridge, we spotted flamingoes high stepping in the low tide marsh below. The cotton candy pink of their feathers is a color not normally found in nature.
     Gracie and I completed the self-guided walking tour of downtown Cedar Key, checking out all 53 locations, in two days. The architecture and history are interesting. There are burial mounds on the tour from the Seminole Indians that were here until they were removed by the government. There are a couple residences and commercial buildings still standing made from “tabby,” clam shell concrete. The Victorian influence came in when the railroad still ran into Cedar Key. The gingerbread edging on the formal porches looks jarringly out of place in a beach town. Most of those large residences are now bed and breakfasts. The mill building downtown was from the time when all the cedar for Faber and Eagle pencils came from Cedar Key. When the cedar gave out, commercial fishing was the main industry. Then net fishing was banned in 1995, and although commercial clamming is still big business, tourism is the future. There’s a huge art festival here the end of April that I’m thinking of extending my stay long enough to enjoy.
    The homemade ice cream and fudge at the café here in the park are absolutely scrumptious. I have to remind myself I cannot taste test all 21 flavors of fudge. My mantra is moderation, moderation, moderation.
    There are boat tours of the little keys from the marina downtown that I would really like to take. Gracie is welcome, but I’m afraid she might panic. I have to think about it.    
    The produce and seafood stand sells gator meat. I’m trying to convince myself to try it. It’s really high in protein. I guess if I don’t like it I could give it to Gracie, but at $13 a pound it’s expensive dog food. Then again, this trip is all about new experiences,  

Cedar Key

    Cedar Key, Florida has made the short list of the places I may settle down once my traveling days are over. This park has not.
    I paid a premium for a waterfront site. Because of the location of the utilities, there’s no way I can pull into the site, so the back of the Goose is on the “water.” Actually, it’s backed up to a stand of mangroves; which doesn’t matter because it’s not the Gulf. It’s some stagnant inlet. Then there’s the size and shape of the lot. I had to shoehorn the Goose into the spot. Once again, I can’t put the awning out. I don’t know if the sun sets over the water or not. The hummingbird-size mosquitoes have dibs on the view.  
     Enough complaining. There’s a restaurant at the park, and the food is rumored to be very good; people from Cedar Key come here to dine. Nothing on the breakfast menu is over $4.50, lunches are around $5, and dinners are $7 to $10. They make fudge, ice cream, and baked goods on site. I stocked up on groceries at WalMart, so I haven’t patronized the restaurant yet. Besides, I’m trying to eat healthy. There’s a nice clean little laundry room. The showers are clean, private and heated.    
     The best part is the town of Cedar Key. The sidewalk into town starts a few yards from the park. It’s about a mile to the stores and attractions, but it’s a lovely walk across bridges, past quaint little cafes and cute little cottages and bungalows with metal roofs. Just over the first bridge next to the Sundance Wash-n-go laundromat is Sandy’s fresh produce and seafood stand that sells local honey and homemade jelly.
     Cedar Key’s downtown is a delightful mix of wooden-floored antique and curio shops in what were once stately homes, and little artistic interest spots and public gardens . All the necessities like a hardware store, post office, bank and grocery store are on the main street. The charming clean city park is on the beach and, hooray, it’s dog friendly. Next to the beach are kiosks that rent kayaks or offer boat trips around the little islands. Dock street has a public pier and dozens of cedar-shingled restaurants and souvenir shops. There’s a self-guided walking tour that Gracie and I plan to take.  
    About a half mile in the other direction is a Florida Wildlife clam hatchery and public pier with a little picnic gazebo that makes a perfect place to walk. I asked for a tour of the hatchery, and the workers were pleased to show me the gravel-sized clams, 40,000 per tray, that will be eating size in 18 months and explain the incubation process.   
    I was feeling shaggy, so I scheduled an appointment with a real stylist (as opposed to the salon employees at WalMart) downtown. I had to leave Gracie at home, so I asked my neighbors Ed and Marcy to keep an eye on her. She sat in the driver seat for two hours staring in the direction I left. I think devotion has crossed into obsession.   
    I love the people I have met on my journey. Ed and Marcy walk their little dog Jake and ride their bicycles into town. My neighbors on the other side make jewelry from sea glass to sell at art shows.  
    This evening I talked to a fascinating young couple from Colombia. They circled South America and are going to travel up the east coast, across Canada to Alaska and down the west coast over the next 3 ½ years. They are in a VW Kombi, a little van with a pop-up top. (www.kombianos.com). They speak only a little English and my Spanish is pathetic, so we had to wing it with hand signals and a Spanish-English dictionary, but that’s the fun of meeting people on the journey.     

Life in Keaton Beach: Happiness and Sunsets

     I'm finally becoming comfortable with being happy. I'm happy despite not having all the things I was conditioned to believe would make me happy--solid marriage to a high-earning professional, good-paying career of my own, membership in a Christian faith-based religion, close relationships with my children, big house, solid retirement fund. I have been afraid my happiness balloon would pop and I would realize I am a total failure and the letdown would be drastic. Now I realize I am doing a good job discovering the things that make me happy.  
     I never attained any of the things I was told would make me happy, despite a lifetime of striving, so I thought that was the reason for my unhappiness. I wonder how many women did achieve the things we were conditioned to believe would be the key to happiness, only to find they were unhappy? I wonder how you teach a child to figure out what will make her happy without conditioning her to accept your values?       
     Monday I put it into the Universe that I needed groceries, propane and repairs to the roof of the Goose. The propane arrived Tuesday, finally, after 10 days of requesting delivery. Wednesday park owner Lynn asked if I would like to go to the little grocery store five miles down the road. Not much selection, but enough that I can avoid packing up and driving to Perry. That afternoon I saw a man walking on the top of a fifth wheel. His name is Brette and he works for Bill, the owner of the RV. He was putting a coat of sealant on the fifth wheel. He ended up repairing the roof, putting two coats of sealant on it and replacing the bathroom and roof vents.
     I finished reading Defy Gravity by Caroline Myss. It left me with a lot to think about, which is the mark of a good book for me. One of the things she said is that living in the past is like living in a cemetery consulting corpses. I love imagery like that. When I start ruminating on my past, I tell myself aloud, “Get out of the graveyard.” I’m reading Wishes Fulfilled: Mastering the Art of Manifesting by Wayne Dyer. I’m now very aware of my “I am” statements, and I stopped watching late night television, since slipping into sleep downloads the conscious mind into the subconscious. .      
     The weather has been fabulous and it’s spring break, so Keaton Beach is a little more lively. Lynn took her grandson Talan and Gracie and me down to the beach in the golf cart and Talan and Gracie cavorted in the waves (what “No Dogs on Beach” sign?) . After sniffing a golf cart in which the marina mascot, Crockett, had been riding, Gracie got over her fear.
     Gracie had never been comfortable around large dogs, but since the pitbull attack, she has a major meltdown when she even sees a large dog. I think it’s because the dog attack came out of nowhere. Getting her over this may be a challenge. It’s like PTSD.    
     The marina is a quaint little store with a wrap around porch from which we sip coffee and watch a giant winch lower boats into the canal. They stock a few supplies and, of course, I have taken it as my personal mission to support the local economy as I travel, so I had to buy a “Salt Life” t-shirt. And I have had to have several take out dinners from the Keaton Beach Hot Dog Stand and Restaurant to support the local economy.   
     We leave here Tuesday for Cedar Key where I have reservations for a month. It’s 60 miles to the WalMart in Chiefland for a major stock-up trip and 30 miles from the WalMart to Cedar Key. I treated us to a water-front site, since the cost of the park is quite reasonable.
     Every evening we go out to the deck with whatever campers are in residence and watch the sunset over the water. The beauty of the Gulf never fails to amaze me.        

Six Months on the Road, Margarita Wine Coolers and Self Care

     It was six months ago today that I began my new adventure. Every experience in my life has prepared me for this time in my life, like pieces in a giant puzzle that has taken 60 years to assemble. The lesson from childhood was that I had to be self-sufficient because no man would ever take care of me, and both failed marriages were graduate courses in self-sufficiency. I have no doubt I can take care of myself. I was an only child; I am not lonely being alone. Six months ago, stripped of my job, my marriage, and my house, I was free to leave. I felt like everything was falling apart, but it was really coming together. In A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen says the bad we experience serves as fertilizer for the good that comes later. I like that visualization.       
     Sometimes the Universe has to beat me over the head before I get the message. First, I stumbled upon a deserted RV park with no distractions. Then the weather has kept me inside except for brief breaks to walk Gracie. Then I discovered that the light above the computer, which I thought was broken, operates from another switch, and is the brightest light in the Goose. Then my favorite email writing newsletter had a feature on the editorial needs of Family Motor Coaching. So I started gathering Writer's Guidelines from the RV lifetstyle magazines--Family Motor Home Coaching, Motorhome, Trailer Life, Highways, MotorHome. I found a website and ordered 35 mm slide film and dusted off my old camera. Don't ask me why, but magazines insist on transparencies. I was a freelance writer for about 15 years, writing mostly for the motorcycle industry (check out www.writer-sharon-kay.com) and the Universe is letting me know it’s time to start writing for publication.
     Gracie and I were walking last Saturday when she was attacked by a pitbull. Thankfully, two men heard me screaming and came running and beat the dog off. Gracie has a bite mark on her shoulder which bled copiously. I am so angry at the negligent owner who let a vicious dog run loose, so grateful to the men who helped us, and guilty that I could not protect my gentle Gracie. She was a little stiff Saturday night but seems fine now. Wednesday the park owner gave us a ride in her golf cart to do laundry. Gracie was really scared. I tried to point out that all the dogs here ride around in golf carts, but she’s not buying it.
    I ran out of E&J brandy and got tired of white wine, but discovered Seagrams Escapes Margarita Wine Coolers. Makes the rain a lot more tolerable.
     I’m reading A Deep Breath of Life, Defy Gravity:Healing Beyond the Bounds of Reason by Caroline Myss, and The Power of Intention by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I watched The Lincoln Lawyer and Slum Dog Millionaire since I got here. I have worked out four days a week every week since I started this journey. Lee reminded me how much I enjoy yoga, so I added yoga, either with The Prozac Lady with the soft hypnotic voice on Full Body Workout on the BYU channel, or a Rodney Yee DVD a couple times a week. I meditate every day. Taking the time for self care is luxurious.         

Goodbye to Ho-Hum

     Leaving Ho-Hum Park was heart-wrenching in many ways. The park is beautiful, with breathtakingly beautiful views, birdwatching, and shelling. There is a stretch of beach for walking, on which Gracie could romp leash-free when (no pun intended) the coast was free. Television cable is free and laundry facilities are available. The spaces are large, and the park is well maintained. People in the park are friendly, and I made more friends in two months in the park than in 16 years at one address.
     I have become very attached to my neighbor Lee. We have many interests in common, which, at my age, is very rare. We shared books and DVDs and discussed them at length. We had great times exploring the local area, trying restaurants, running errands, and doing yoga in the rec room. One of my favorite memories will be the Gulf Specimen Marine Laboratory in Panacea that we stumbled upon, where we marveled at the amazing diversity of treasures in the sea. Lee fixed the light over the table in the Goose and planned to fix the leak in the roof. I fell in love with his little dog Murphy. I will miss his companionship.  
     And I must leave Baby, buried on the beach.
     But it is prime season and the rates have gone up. June and Gordon, neighbors and dear friends,  invited Lee and me to a lovely restaurant, Angelo’s in Panacea, looking over the water to celebrate Gordon’s birthday. It was a good way to end an incredible chapter in my adventure.    
     Lee turned left out of the park and is about four hours west. Doyle and Melia are already gone, headed north by degrees to Virginia. Gordon and June will leave in two weeks to head eventually back to Canada.
     I turned right out of the park and now am in Old Pavilion RV Park on Keaton Beach, 20 miles west of Perry, still on the Gulf Coast. The Goose ran beautifully. The park has about 30 spaces, and all are filled, but most of the rv owners do not appear to be in residence. The park is very, very quiet. My space is tight—I can’t put out the awning—but it’s level. There’s no cable, but I got the satellite set up, so I have limited television. The only laundry is a ten-minute walk down the road; two washers (one broken) and one dryer. There’s not much beach to walk on.
     There’s a large wooden platform over the water with seats and picnic tables and beautiful views of the water, perfect for reading. The marina and convenience store across the street has newspapers and basic supplies. There’s a seafood outlet just down the block, on the way to the little park at the end of the street. There’s a little hot dog stand and restaurant next to the park. There’s so little traffic Gracie and I can walk on the road, stepping aside for the occasional pick up truck or car, whose drivers always wave.   
     Keaton Beach is very quaint, carved through with tiny canals, so every residence backs up to the water. Huge pelicans, both white and brown, sit on low roofs and piers, ignoring the people walking or floating by.
     I believe that nothing happens by chance. This park was not my first choice; the one on Cedar Key was full. So the universe must have a reason for me being here. I am trying to be centered and open to learn the lessons.
 

         

R.I.P. Baby

     Baby simply stopped breathing about 1:30 this afternoon, in my arms. Gracie and I had a private burial service on the beach. Gracie has been carrying around one of her stuffed toys all afternoon. I don't think it will hit me until tonight when she isn't curled up next to me that she is gone.

Death Watch

       The last major maintenance I needed for the Goose was an alignment and two new front tires. So I called Camping World in Tallahassee. They don't do alignments; try Sermon's Alignments. Sermon's does alignments, but doesn't sell tires; try Discount Tires. Discount Tires doesn't have 19.5 tires; try GCR Tires. Finally, GCR Tires does both tires and alignments. So I trek to GCR Tires in Tallahassee, 60 miles each way. The tires were wearing because they were not level, vertical, and straight, which required major repair to the steering system to correct. Order parts and trek to Tallahassee the next day. Wrong parts. Order correct parts, wait three days for delivery. Back to Tallahassee. Seven hours while Gracie and I watched television in the waiting room, and the Goose is cured. I got back to the park late last night, and Camp Host Dennis came running out to help me back in and set up in the dark. Nice to know someone was watching for me to get home safely. 

     There is a billboard I pass each way that intrigues me. It’s a man fishing alone at a remote lake. It says “Every drop of moisture you lose, nature finds. TAPP—Think About Personal Pollution.” Really? Is taking a leak in Florida waterways a major issue?

       A new creature from the ocean is scattered along the shore. The Portugese Man of War looks like something manufactured at a plastics plant in China. It’s a strangely-shaped nodular mass of a translucent blue not usually found in nature. I was told they are terribly poisonous. Fortunately after some initial curiosity, Gracie is not at all interested in them.
       One of the workampers, Rodney, was operating a BobCat down on the beach at low tide. There was a dolphin, not more than 12 feet out in the bay, checking out the action. Apparently they are very curious and are attracted to any disturbance. What a magical creature!

     The Primary is over, finally. The negative campaign ads were really annoying.

     My neighbor Lee is visiting his son in California. He will be back tomorrow. I have missed him. Gordon and June, a lovely couple from Ontario, are leaving Saturday for a new spot on the Suwannee. I will certainly miss them. I am more involved with my neighbors here than I have ever been anywhere I have ever lived.
     Baby is declining rapidly. She was unsteady and unable to leap to the table and bed on Sunday, but was still sleeping on the back of the couch and eating and drinking. She even swiped a piece of lunchmeat I had set aside to divide between her and Gracie. Monday she started refusing food, although I eventually talked her into some stinky seafood and gravy catfood and a little half and half. Yesterday she ate catfood in the morning and drank a few sips of half and half, then settled on the couch for the day. By last night she sipped a little half and half, refused food, and curled up on the floor. I wrapped her in a towel and tucked her in beside me in bed and stroked her and told her it was okay to go. She now appears to be in a coma, breathing very shallowly. I hold her periodically, but I don't know if she knows I'm here or not. I hope she knows she is loved and will be missed. Bye to my old Baby. 

     

The Forgotten Coast

     Winter has been doled out in small doses in the panhandle. We have a string of days in the 70’s broken by a couple days of rain and chilly weather. There was a storm this morning just before daylight with lightening that split the sky and lighted the park. Gracie, Baby, and Dylan cuddled next to me on the queen-size bed, listening to the rain and thunder. Just after daylight the rain stopped and it was warm enough for just a light jacket on our walk to check out the beach this morning. This afternoon it’s sweatshirt weather.
    The sea was as still this morning as the storm had been fierce. The flying fish were skipping across the surface in splashes. A flock of cormorants floated just beyond the pier. This is called “The Forgotten Coast.” Not much has changed here in decades. There is little development along the coast (unlike Alabama, where the coastline was a wall of high-rise condominiums). Many of the businesses in Carrabelle still have family names, and except for the vehicles and a satellite dish or two, you would have no idea what decade this is.   
     Tides are a mystery to me. Today low tide was 4:20 AM and high tide will be at 8:41 tonight, and there won’t be much difference in the height of the water. Tomorrow the tides will each be about an hour later. But Friday there will be two low tides, at 6:19 AM and 5:15 PM and two high tides, 3:06 and 10:54 PM, and there will be drastic differences in low and high tide. Friday should be a good day to find shells. The last trip to WalMart (30 miles away in Crawford) I bought polka-dot rain boots, so I can slosh around in the mud. Gracie is happy.  
     Neighbors Lee and Doyle helped me figure out the jacks, so the Goose is level and stable, and all the doors open and close easily. Unfortunately they also discovered that the Goose desperately needs an alignment, as the tires I bought in August are nearly eaten through. I will call Camping World in Tallahassee and schedule an appointment before I go further. I’m staying here until February 20^th,  so I am in no hurry. . . .       
    Yesterday Lee and I got a burlap sack half full of oysters ($17) at a broker in Carrabelle who buys from the fishermen and supplies local restaurants. The owner was happy to demonstrate how to hold the barnacle-encrusted shell, insert the knife at the hinge, and deftly separate the halves to reveal the meat within, in about 15 seconds. She grinned as she slurped it down out of the shell before tossing them into the pile in the front yard.
     I have to wonder who first looked at an oyster and thought, “Looks like good eating!”
     It took me 90 minutes to shuck a dozen oysters. I tried one raw (a first for me), on a cracker with a little horseradish, the preferred method among my neighbors of eating them. It was interesting, but I think I prefer them cooked. Dinner last night was steamed oysters, baked potato and vegetables.
     Two years ago this month I was turned down for food stamps and living on the sweet potatoes from my back yard. One year ago this month I was (incorrectly) diagnosed with ovarian cancer. I know the word “amazing” is over used, but I keep running out of ways to describe my life. I’m living a few feet from an ever-changing ocean in a comfortable home with my loving pets, having great new experiences with new friends. Amazing.     

Life in Ho Hum Park

     When I called from Gulf Shores to make the reservation for this spot for one month, camp host Carol confirmed availability for a second month without me requesting she do so. Now I know why. I am convinced there is not a more beautiful spot on earth.
     Gracie and I walk the beach several times a day, exploring at high and low tides. I swore I was not going to collect sea shells, so I collect only the really interesting ones. The big helmet-like shells are sting rays; the live ones have a nasty-looking spike extending out the back of the shell. Jellyfish are bizarre platter-size discs of glistening transparent plasma with loops of internal organs that form a clover pattern. Beautiful orange starfish seem very vulnerable to the tides, washing up in numbers I cannot possibly toss back into the waves.
     In the 1946 Disney movie "Song of the South", Uncle Remus strolls along a path singing Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah while animated butterflies float around him. I have come closer than I ever could have imagined, without the animation. This is the area where monarch butterflies winter, and dozens flit around the bushes near the water. 

     One clear bright evening I thought I would experience the beach at night. Before we got very far I heard crashing in the bushes and heavy huffing grunting noises. Remembering the signs along the road for bear crossings, I decided we’ll enjoy the gulf at night from the pier.  

     My neighbor is a single man about my age. Lee is comfortable in his own skin, into yoga, healthy eating, movies, self improvement, and his little dog Murphy. It’s nice to have someone with whom to discuss the complexities of the universe. He also invites me along when he goes grocery shopping, and showed me how to change fuses in the Goose, so I have lights in the closets and over the bed again.

     I am teaching Dylan (my large male Bengal cat) to walk on a leash. It's a slow process, but he's an eager student. I take Dylan and Gracie on leashes to a picnic table overlooking the water for lunch most days. Dylan stares at the seagulls, languishes on the rocks, rolls in the sand, and gets tangled in the picnic table. He walks both ways on the leash. The neighbors enjoy the show.

     The Christmas party in the park was very nice. There were about 30 people, the food was excellent, and we played a gift-sharing game that netted me a few scratcher lottery tickets. I sat with Lee and his neighbors Malia and Doyle. Good conversation and much laughter.

     Gracie loves the giant chew roll she got for Christmas. Gracie, Dylan, Baby and I cuddled while I watched the movie "The Help" (very good) in the afternoon. I had turkey cutlets slow-cooked in the crock pot with all the fixings for dinner. New Year's Eve we rocked in 2012 with Carson Daly on television. Baby was on my lap, Gracie and Dylan beside me while we snacked on lunch meat, crackers and cheese. New Year's Day I shared dinner with my neighbors Joe and Adrienne, who travel with their three dogs in a 30-foot motorhome. They love this area so much they are buying property on St. Vincent Island, not too far west from here.

     The weather all week was fabulous, highs in the 70's and nights in the upper 40's. That changed today. It's cold and windy. Fortunately, the beach cove is shielded from the wind and feels much warmer. Low tide this morning was really low, and Gracie and I were treated on our morning walk to a variety of sea life and shells. I love gifts from the sea.