File photo: We can't get this close to the Queen right nowCopyright 2008 Lydia Hinshaw
ORMOND BEACH, FL -- The past three mornings I've opened my eyes and momentarily wondered where the heck I am.
I keep trying to place the motel we checked into the night before.
It takes a minute or two to figure out that this is no motel, and certainly no walk-in-closet-sized cabin in Yosemite. This is home, the house I've lived in since 1995, minus four summers spent working in Montana, Alaska (twice) and California.
Within 24 hours of our arrival Wednesday afternoon, I had checked in with both of last winter's employers, worked my first lifeguard shift and moved most of my clothes from my home office back to the master bedroom.
Within 48 hours I had spent one hour in my Pilates class, and another in the pool. This double-dose of exercise left me confined to the sofa for the rest of Friday.
Prince Charming and I have also visited two of our favorite restaurants, one for fresh seafood and another for eggs and grits. When we walked into the breakfast place, the usual waitress greeted us with her usual question: "Are you having your usual?"
Indeed, we were.
If she noticed we were appearing for the first time in five months, she didn't let on.
Sooner or later, we'll finish unpacking the car and get things put away, in safe places where we won't be able to find then when we're packing again next spring.
By far the biggest challenge since our return has been the Queen, our regal and cantankerous cat. Although she doesn't like us much when we're here, she likes it even less when we leave. She has concluded that this whole five-month absence was my idea (true) and she has so far refused to forgive.
She's been a cat from a horror story, wild-eyed, flat-eared and shrieking whenever she lays eyes on me. For some reason, the Prince has been mostly spared these hysterics, although when she's riled up at me, he isn't safe either.
Friday night, I sensed a mellowing, when the cat, looking forlorn, came over to my spot on the sofa, angling for a back-rub.
I complied, eager to make peace. That's how I got the puncture wounds in my hand. This is the Queen's way of reminding me that I'm not nearly as smart as she is.
This is going to take some time. Probably at least until April, when we'll be getting ready to leave again.
I keep trying to place the motel we checked into the night before.
It takes a minute or two to figure out that this is no motel, and certainly no walk-in-closet-sized cabin in Yosemite. This is home, the house I've lived in since 1995, minus four summers spent working in Montana, Alaska (twice) and California.
Within 24 hours of our arrival Wednesday afternoon, I had checked in with both of last winter's employers, worked my first lifeguard shift and moved most of my clothes from my home office back to the master bedroom.
Within 48 hours I had spent one hour in my Pilates class, and another in the pool. This double-dose of exercise left me confined to the sofa for the rest of Friday.
Prince Charming and I have also visited two of our favorite restaurants, one for fresh seafood and another for eggs and grits. When we walked into the breakfast place, the usual waitress greeted us with her usual question: "Are you having your usual?"
Indeed, we were.
If she noticed we were appearing for the first time in five months, she didn't let on.
Sooner or later, we'll finish unpacking the car and get things put away, in safe places where we won't be able to find then when we're packing again next spring.
By far the biggest challenge since our return has been the Queen, our regal and cantankerous cat. Although she doesn't like us much when we're here, she likes it even less when we leave. She has concluded that this whole five-month absence was my idea (true) and she has so far refused to forgive.
She's been a cat from a horror story, wild-eyed, flat-eared and shrieking whenever she lays eyes on me. For some reason, the Prince has been mostly spared these hysterics, although when she's riled up at me, he isn't safe either.
Friday night, I sensed a mellowing, when the cat, looking forlorn, came over to my spot on the sofa, angling for a back-rub.
I complied, eager to make peace. That's how I got the puncture wounds in my hand. This is the Queen's way of reminding me that I'm not nearly as smart as she is.
This is going to take some time. Probably at least until April, when we'll be getting ready to leave again.
1 comment:
Like the Queen I'm miffed. You could at least come by and say howdy so I could say "Welcome back." But no, you take your early morning walk and I never see you. At least I got a chance to welcome Prince Charming home when I caught him in your front yard. We would like to be good neighbors if only you would give us a chance.
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