Dinner at Stonewood

Stonewood Tavern and Grill is a very upscale chain restaurant that features all booth seating, and the currently popular menu of fish, steak and creamed spinach. I met a guy there for dinner, yesterday: he had driven four hours from Georgia for this experience: I drove 18 minutes, so I did not feel overly burdened. But the three-hour meal was not without its entertainment.

Seems this fellow spends a month in the South of France each summer--at one of their nude beaches! I thought that he went there for the culture, the scenery and the food. Silly me: he was trying to sign me up to peel and swim. When I, politely demurred, thinking that the conversation would proceed on to other things, I was nonplussed as he continued to tell the joys of nudity, especially with his assortment of "friends" who were all women. Just why he found this topic so compelling puzzled me, but then, people get their jollies in particular ways. 

It was another disappointment for me, to meet still another middle-aged fellow who was totally immersed in his life, his pastimes, and seemed to be seeking yet another potential nudist to sit beside him at the shore. I mentioned that I did not like getting sand in my privates, and that I did not enjoy viewing nude people, save one, specific fellow whom I did not name, nor describe. 

This evening became excruciating, saved only by the fact that he had to drive four hours back to his home. I was relieved to return to my "clothing required" home, and to say farewell to this very sad, Hugh Heffner wannabe. I wished him peace, no pun intended, and godspeed.

And so, tonight I am dragging boxes down the ladder from the attic, boxes of Christmas decorations, and happy to be me. People get very odd as they age, alone. I hope I am not like that.

Beautiful Overcast Day

and we are even having occasional showers. Florida gets way too much sunshine, so I am always pleased when a cloudy day comes along.  As for the yard, well, I try to do one thing every day: today I am going to mulch an area. If I get really ambitious, I will dig holes to move three or four crotons into.

The cable guy is here, discovering that the other installer did, in fact, fail to hook up the cable in the proper room: I always worry when I cannot make something electronic work, that another person will just pick it up and turn it "on" and I will feel like the usual dope. This, recently, happened with MacBook, which would not load my Safari browser for about a day and a half. I took it in, to the Apple Store at the mall, and it worked perfectly, making me feel like a dimwad. It was good for one, thing, however, as the technician there loaded Mozilla Firefox for me, so I would have an option in the future. 

The meatballs are cooking in the sauce, and I am about to launch into making a new recipe for Pumpkin Bars--I am going to substitute pecans for the raisins. Tomorrow I am making a carrot cake. I have no plans for Thanksgiving, other than to heat a TV dinner, homemade, but one of five I put together to give to my parents when I next see them, along with the breast meat that I put into the freezer for them. I plan to get a lot of things done around my house, though, such as moving things from bags and piles into drawers and closets. 

I would stop this boring prattle, but the cable guy is still working, putting in an extra cable for me so that I can watch TV in the kitchen, and my internet is out, so all I can do is to keep typing along until he is done. I am guessing that I will offer him a tip of some sort, maybe ten dollars, for putting it in for me, through the wall, and all. That was not why he came out--it was because of the non-working cable: I just asked him for a "favor" being as I am "all alone" here. 

I have to find a drill because one table leg's hole is too deep for the longest bolt made: this very masculine woman at Home Depot told me how to fix it: drill the hold big enough so that I can fit the 5/12 inch dowel in the hole. Measure the depth of the hole, cut the dowel the correct length (like two inches, max), put glue in the hole, put the dowel in to dry. The next day, drill a new hole, right into the now hardened dowel area, and screw the bolt into that hole, and now it will work.

Now, to find a drill...

San Diego in Tampa

Yes, the hot weather just may be gone for the "winter." It is 58 degrees at ten am this morning, and only expected to reach 64: this means that I can work on yard things like digging and lifting and planting, and not reach temperatures near boiling. Of course, to do that, I must get out of my toasty bed, with quilt and electric blanket. 

I have learned that it does not take much to make me feel content: but that I do have certain minimums. I need a warm bed with pillows for sitting up, a table nearby to hold items from drinks to earplugs, a TV, books to read and a computer with the Internet. I don't need a car, or neat clothes, or special friends, or much else. I recall the song from MY FAIR LADY: all I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair..." 

This lack of high expectations has made me a very non-ambitious person, very unconcerned with "winning" or "keeping up with the Joneses" or accruing a lot of money, collections or things of any nature. My discouraging habit of losing much of whatever I do have has contributed to this total lack of trying to accumulate any wealth. As a consequence, I do not respect those with wealth, or things, any more than I respect those without them. This brings me to the place where I have almost always been, that of a proletarian democrat who is not impressed by anything in the world beyond beauty and truth. 

I know that this lifelong attitude has made it impossible, so far, to find long-term comfort with a single man: once I get to know someone, and recognize serious flaws in his character, I am no longer "impressed" with him, and he senses that. The relationship goes rapidly downhill, from there, and I find myself in a room with nary a view, but a warm bed with TV and Internet.

I realized this two or so years ago, which was what sent me to nursing school with the plan of working in some exotic location, helping people, remaining single, and writing journals and recipe books. I was, temporarily, knocked off my schedule by the second cancer scare of my life, and, subsequently, thought that I might find my destiny with about, hmm, four fellows that I saw, in some random order. Alas and alack, those relationships only reaffirmed the wisdom of my original plan.

So, back in Tampa, with two roommates helping me keep my house going, I am formulating a new plan, with no hurry. 

In the meantime, I still have my room, my computer, and my TV.