Happy New Year to my loyal readers… I have just returned from Florida doing the 1,300 miles in 20 hours. Lord have mercy. It is said that, if women remembered labor, we would all be only children. If I remembered the drive, I would fly.
The rub in flying is leaving Toby, my 13 year-old dog, behind. He was adopted off the Florida pastureland where my home is and I want him to smell the earth and roll in his old haunts. It’s joyful to watch. Despite arthritis and cancer, Toby gave a few water birds all they could handle.
The drive… oy vey. What a test of nerves and patience.
First of all, good sport that Toby is, he does get a bit nervous and has, ahem, some gas issues. I don’t want to be indelicate, so suffice it to say that I’m left with the choice of being asphyxiated or drenched with open windows in the rain.
Next, we have random stops in random places for gas (gasoline). Some of these places are creepy. One of the self-serve gas pumps must have pirated my credit card info and someone charged $101. Visa shut the door on that baby, so I’m clear, but…really?
Then we have my good friend Garmin who, although non-judgmental of my errors, has made a few of her own. After driving the Battan Death Run for 15 hours, she took me on a tour of Washington, DC. If you had heard of a car ramming the front gates of the White House to beg for lodging from the Obamas, that would have been me.
Night driving is the worst. Plummeting through the abyss of darkness wondering who on the road has been celebrating and is out of control, wasn’t my favorite part of the trip.
I can now divest myself of Xena armor and launch the 2016 campaign. Thank you for another opportunity to share my heart song with you for another year.
Much love, Rosanne