Not getting it

“Well, Yukon ate bars of cane,” Linda said to me as I sat here waiting for square and cuppa to bring me to full conscious, staring out the sliding door into the reflection of the Bay bedroom, bathroom and closet behind me.

Our Beck bedroom barely has space for one bed, a king that we brought from the house, and a floor lamp and barrel chair where I sometimes sit to read. Some inches width on either side allow one to squeeze in and climb into bed. Bay bedroom is larger, regular furniture plus we’ve made a “family room” in the Bay end of it, generous sitting space, Linda’s chair faces the television. Facing the Bay, my  chair is the blue “lift chair” we bought my mother for her 98th birthday but she never learned to use it. I have two bookshelves from the house, books and a few treasures, stingily rationed supply of chocolate, and a floor lamp on a stem, that I bought from the estate sale of an architect in Apalalchicola in 1985, his daughter said it had been her dad’s “architect lamp.”

So, I sit here quietly contemplating what Linda has said to me, waiting to see if my brain can retranslate the hum of words that went through my ears that no longer filter well without my hearing aids. She watches me as I cogitate thoughtfully. Finally I admit, “I just don’t get it.” She repeats, more clearly, not mumbling this time (the woman needs speech therapy), “Well, you slept eight hours again.” And so I did, eight-thirty to four-thirty this time, the dream was back in the Navy, shore duty in Washington, the headquarters building, which was open on one side like a doll house. It was my first day in the office, and I was walking along in the park looking up into the open front building checking to see if the admiral was still in his office, so I could go in and visit. He was gone, so I headed home. I don’t know whether that dream was brought on by Father Nature jumping up and down on my bladder, but it wasn’t my usual anxiety dream. Maybe those are gone for good, IDK.

2 shopping days ’til XMAS.

This morning to The Carousel to pick up the tenderloin for Boxing Day. They’re reworking the store into a gourmet place, the usual best beef but added exotic items, including when we were out there last week I bought two or three different kinds of pâté, which I love on very crisp thin ww toast. One is duck liver pâté, which’ve been finding only at Fresh Market. 

Charlie carried the area’s best beer and wine selection, and Dock has continued and expanded that. Cheap, the original cheapskate, I look for wine bargains and markdowns, and $10 is way above my usual limit, I’m at $7 or $8. In Australia forty years ago I heard praise for Penfold’s wines, so bought a bottle of their shiraz, which not opened yet. They also had a Penfold’s blend, which I never buy blends, but this shiraz-cabernet was marked down to about $4 a bottle, so I bought two. Screw cap, which is coming to be acceptable. The bottle I’ve opened was so sharp it had to air a couple days to mellow to drinkable, at which point it becomes priced right at $4. In the package store Linda needed rum for rumcake, so I bought a bottle of blackstrap molasses rum. The rumcake smells and looks delicious. Linda says I can't cut it because it's for my wake, but she is going to the church to "green" this morning, I may have a slice of rumcake for breakfast after she leaves.

If we can’t have snow, at least it’s cloudy, overcast, cool dark and damp. Perfect Florida Christmas weather.  

70F, 98%, raining on Shell Island and heading my way.

Thos+ in +Time+