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  That Elusive Pot of Gold    In August of 2022, I drove from Ohio to Lutz, Florida for my high school reunion. It was deemed Chamberlain’s Class of 71’s “Fifty+One” reunion. (We had to forgo the fifty-year gathering due to COVID.)    My mom came with me. She misses her Florida friends, so a few days before the reunion, we drove to Dunnellon to visit with her lifelong friend, Mary.  On our way back to Lutz, the weather was rainy. The traffic on US Hwy 41 was crazy. We forged ahead, but when I saw a sign pointing to I-75 I decided to take that alternate route and avoid all of the traffic on US 41 and the construction we knew existed just north of the Lake House where we were staying in Lutz.    I couldn’t help but take pictures. The route was beautiful with a lake on one side, near the highway and lush greenery everywhere. But what made it photo worthy was the rainbow stretching over the highway like a colorful frame.   I managed to capture se...

  Tuesday is Laundry Day   Marrying a second time requires being open to change. Especially when you’ve lived alone for a period of time. When Mike and I married, Mike had been widowed over thirty years. It had been over eight years since my husband, Tom, had died.    When you live alone, you get set in certain ways. New routines and the ebb and flow of life become established over time. Routines make us feel comfortable. Secure.   When you remarry, it means you have to learn or adapt to someone else’s likes or dislikes. It means negotiating what channel to watch on television or  when  to watch something. Sometimes it means deciding between wrestling and westerns. At least for him. I would choose a western over wrestling every time.   And…it means adjusting to “Tuesday  is  laundry day.” For years Mike has taken on the chore of doing the laundry each and every Tuesday. It is part of his routine.   Me? I always tended to do laundry ...

  Country Cooking… Cuban Style   I enjoy cooking for Mike. He is pretty receptive to me trying new recipes and kind when they don’t turn out as planned. Some of my cooking is limited because I don’t have all of the cookware I had in Ohio.   Use Mike’s cookware? I love the man, but Door Dash apparently never delivered colanders, measuring spoons, steamers…or…well, you get the idea. Mike is great at grilling hamburgers and I hear he is the family hero at frying turkeys for Thanksgiving, but the everyday stuff? Not so much.    Still, I have to give him credit. He is not picky. And he is always open to going out to eat if that’s what I want to do. The simple truth is this: I like to cook. I like to try new things and replicate dishes we both like. Mike encourages me and doesn’t criticize my efforts at all. Even when it doesn’t turn out quite as I expected.   Breakfast is easy. He eats whatever I offer. Lunch is usually sandwiches and chips. Dinner? This is wher...

  The Airboat Adventure Complete With Pictures   The Everglades.  Lincoln Vail. Crime fighter. Protector of the Glades. Hero.    But what I remember most about the television series was Lincoln Vail’s patrol vehicle: An Airboat.  The show aired in the 1960’s. I remember thinking how much fun it would be to drive an airboat. Or at least ride in one like Ron Howard’s little brother, Clint, did a few years later in the opening shots of  Gentle Ben.   Gliding atop the water with the wind blowing your hair looked like the best water ride ever. But I never did it.    Until this past week, that is.   Airboats are prevalent on our lake. It’s a big lake so it isn’t like they overrun us, but often, on the weekends, we hear them buzzing by, skirting our cove and gliding over the tall grassy areas.   Lou, my sister-in-law, is always ready for an adventure. So when her niece came to town, they decided to put an airboat ride on the calendar ...

Hiking Across Florida When I was growing up in Florida, “Beach Week” was a time-honored week off to swim, ski, sunbathe, and play before that summer job began or the packing got underway for college. Of late, it’s been noted in some circles as more of a drinking party mixed with drugs and sex, but in the late sixties and early 1970’s, it was a week for seventeen and eighteen year olds to breathe in summer and be free of work or school.     In June of 1970, after the high school seniors had walked the graduation corridor and the juniors were gearing up for their senior year, a group of six friends gathered for their version of “Beach Week.” All boys.   Three of the boys graduated that year. The other three were about to enter their senior year at George D. Chamberlain High School in Tampa, Florida. They could do as many of my friends did and drive to a West Coast beach a few times during the week, but the family of one of the boys owned a vacation cabin on a canal lea...