Joe College burst into song reading this over my shoulder. There are worse ways to start your morning than watching the early duffers on the golf course from the shade of the lanai, drinking coffee with your son singing show tunes in the background.
It has been a strange few weeks with a not altogether unexpected visit back to my hometown smack in the middle of our Florida vacation. I hadn’t been there to visit since my mother’s funeral in 2005. This time was for my father’s funeral and it hit me hard. So without having seen Alysa’s OC when it was posted, I’d been mentally listing my favorite things of the moment just to get through last week as an exercise in mindfulness and gratitude, just to keep my sanity.
Here is my current list of favorite things:
Home-made un-sweetened iced tea at Martine’s on the River, Jon and Peter’s and Fran’s Pub. I spent a few days after the funeral blowing off steam with the Prince of Darkness at our old haunts in New Hope, PA. The weather has been hazy and extremely hot and humid. The river is lower than anyone can remember. I’ve recently come to terms with the facts that I am 47, not as immortal as I’d like to imagine and that any kind of alcohol in this weather will put me into snooze mode so the iced teas were a life saver.
Classic Spiderman comics. I don’t “get” European comic books. “Tin-Tin” is boring and frankly, “Asterix” just gets the hell on my nerves. Give me Spidey any day. We took the boys to the Comic Coliseum in Kissimmee on the day it rained and yes, I was just about the only female in the store, which was crowded with Capt. Sweatpants (or his twin brother) and his minions playing nerd game marathons. I am now completely convinced that “The Big Bang Theory” is drawn from life. Trying to be unobtrusive, I made a bee-line for the “Archies” section. Its been so long, I lost the plot so I moved on. Around the corner from Jughead and the gang, I found the origins of Seth’s Solomon Kane. Then I noticed a small section devoted to “The Phantom—Ghost who Walks” but on the way to The Phantom, I fell headlong into rows and rows of Spiderman comics. This is where the guys found me, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed following the adventures of Peter Parker as though I were reading them for the first time. Spidey rocks.
Coppertone sun protection. It is the smell of summer for generations—accept no substitutes. The fruity smelling stuff just draws bees, wasps and horseflies. I miss the ads with the little girl and the dog though. Which moron decided to get rid of that image in the name of “modernity”?
Finally, my squash blossom necklace. When we decided to get married, I told Vince that I don’t really care for diamonds. I don’t and that’s a fact. This was much to his relief because he couldn’t afford the kind of rocks my cousins were sporting in their engagement rings at the time. I really did get the world’s smallest engagement ring, but here we are, 26 years later. So girls, in this case, size really doesn’t mean a thing. My mineur for diamonds aside, I love jewelry, especially Native-American turquoise jewelry. While we were in New Hope, carousing with the Imps, the Prince of Darkness and his assorted friends, Vince nipped into a shop and bought me a present. It was an old pawn, squash blossom necklace I’d admired in the shop window earlier in the day. For our 25th wedding anniversary, he said.