Notes from a typical weekday

You can tell summer is settling in. Their kids have taken Gladys and Jerry across the street up to North Carolina for two weeks; I have to water their garden while they are away in exchange for any tomatoes on her tomato plants that ripen. We are having a drought so everyone is praying for rain and watering restrictions are going to tighten. My neighbor Wilson is working in my laundry room/tool shed as I type this. Seems the old exterior wall was untreated plywood and has completely rotted; that and the dryer vent has to be replaced. The more Wilson works out there, the more often he knocks at the front door to tell me something else is either broken or about to be. “I could stay here for a month, “ he says, shaking his head. “I know,’ I know,” I answer, wishing yet again that I was married to Ty Pennington. It’s all the everyday part of Douglas Drive, a day that could be played out anywhere in the country. Except we are not anywhere. For example: I spotted the first turtle nest on the beach this week. Ziggy Marley is coming to Sun Fest where people are having cocktails on floating barges. A1A from here to Delray is blazing with bougainvillea. I am driving up tomorrow to watch the space shuttle Endeavor launch—from a kayak on the Mosquito Lagoon. I am getting up at 4 am to drive over to Mary’s house in my pajamas to watch the royal wedding. So just when I start getting the Peggy Lee (“Is that all there is?”) doldrums, just when I sigh that big sigh and think life is one average day after another, I am reminded where I live, a place that shoots rockets into space on Fridays, has squawking parrots, slithery alligators and mango trees. A place the redefines normal and may actually deliver on the never-a-dull-moment promise. That works for me.