Sometimes the things on our "want to do," "must do," or "must see" lists are simple. For my husband, the car enthusiast who can remember every tiny difference between a 67 versus a 73 model of the same car and can recite every car he's ever owned, his dad ever owned, his brother ever owned etc, one of those things was to drive on Daytona Beach.
I didn't even know you could do that. He did, and mentioned it as we took our time back from a weekend work-a-thon in Jacksonville. We drove down A1A, stopping often to watch kite boarders and the waves in the Atlantic. He mentioned it.
Let's go, I said. So, he drove as far down as we could and then backtracked some more. Scratch one off the list.
Met my youngest in San Antonio a couple of weekend ago. The week leading up to our "girls weekend," A kept calling. The first call though, came from my eldest daughter S:
"Mom, A wanted me to call you and tell you something."
"What!? Don't tell me she can't come, the flight is paid for, the hotel is paid for..."
"No, it's not that. It's something else."
"Just tell me."
"She got two piercings. One on her nose, another is a 'Marilyn Monroe' piercing."
"No more tattoos?"
Okay, I can live with that. In my past experience with kids and piercings is that they don't last long. Said child usually gets bored and the piercing goes away.
"Mom, hi. I need to tell you something."
"I know about the piercings."
"Oh, uh, are you mad."
"No, you are an adult. I don't understand why you have the need to mutilate yourself, but it's your body."
"Well, there's something else I need to tell you."
"Oh God. What is it?"
"Well, I wanted to get some highlights in my hair and we sort of had an accident." (My daughter is in beauty school - the trip to San Antonio was to a 'hair show.')
"It's pink. Hot pink. Not all of it, and I think we might be able to put some low lights in it to tone it down, but it's pink."
"Did you want it to be pink?"
"I wanted pink highlights, but it sort of went all over."
"Well, did you get any new tattoos?"
"No, just pink hair...and the piercings. I think I look pretty hot."
"What are you, a cartoon character?"
Despite the calls, the confessions before she saw mom so mom would not freak out, we had a great, fun weekend. I sort of like the pink hair. The piercings not so much. But she's still my daughter -- pink hair, accessories and all.
I think might dye my hair blue before she comes to Florida this Christmas...
It's been a while since I blogged. The ol' blog that I truly mean to revamp into a Florida incarnation has almost become a casualty of my constant travel. But here, I am at the airport -- blogging. Not probably the most useful thing I could be doing, but cool nonetheless.
Still it sort of freaks me out -- a child of the 60s and 70s who used to think a transitor radio was cool -- to be so "wired." I know I've blogged on this before, but just think how different things are. I carry a cell phone -- two actually. My blackberry offers me the Internet, constant email -- and GPS. Now I can blog at the airport on my laptop.
I'm headed to San Antonio this weekend -- Hello ya'll! Meeting my youngest for a fun girls weekend. Hubby is pinch hinting on the campaign trail for me. He's in Fort Myers this morning, video taping a Rudy G. event. Then he's headed to Miami -- I think.
Yep. It's like that. Travel is a constant and I learned yesterday that between Jan. 29 and the November election, I'm going to be almost constantly on the road. Good thing I have those wires coming out of my head. Communication is a good thing.
One more thing before we begin to board: We found a house this week! I'll post some photos next week. We had narrowed it down to two: one pristine, perfect -- not near the beach; two: our new house. Less than 100 yards to the beach. Shall we say the house has "character" and leave it at that. TLC will be needed. But we had to make a lifestyle choice.
Since we travel all the time, the house on the beach will be better. Of course, that's what I'll tell myself when I try to cook a big meal in the small galley kitchen and think about the big kitchen I gave up.