MARCO . . . POLO, MARCO . . . POLO

Yes, I think I’m playing the kids’ game of blind man’s bluff here in Florida. I found Marco Island but where’s the warm sun? This is the warmest major resort town on Florida’s Gulf Coast and all I have been doing is shivering my ass off. Low 60’s and cloudy. It's supposed to be 77/55. What the hell’s going on out here? . . . and no, "A bad day in Marco is not better than a good day in Michigan.", Ms. Real Estate Lady. They're both shitting.

OK one more "glass half full" thing then I'll get to the optimistic stuff. You know me, always looking at the bright side! What in the name of Danielle Patrick was I thinking of when I decided (repeatedly) to drive down here? Did I think my most wonderful companion, lets call her Romy, would magically make the drive half the time? Did I think Moses was going to part the snow-covered Ohio roads? Did I forget that just 5 1/2 short months ago I drove from Denver to Michigan with my daughter and swore that was the last time ever . . .EVER? Well you can bet your sweet little patootie I remember it now. I'm sixty-two years old and sick. My body is like a used car with 200,000 miles on it -- something breaks every day. This time it's the pinched nerve in my neck. That sucker radiates pain down my shoulder and up my neck and generally makes me feel weak and off balance.

So how am I getting home? I'm driving ALONE! Ain't life grand?

And now -- drum roll -- the good news. Romy is the best friend and traveling companion a person could ever ask for. She is so considerate, and upbeat, and mellow, and everything you could want in a traveling companion. She rarely, if ever, complains. She has never, not once, gotten on my nerves and she truly cares about my well being. She checks on me almost every day. I don't know what I did to deserve this wonderful treatment but I truly appreciate it. I know she got a "free" vacation, but I got much more. . . and yes, she was referred to as my daughter and I was referred to as her husband and sugar daddy. All of which made us laugh.

The other upside (besides an occasional burst of sunshine), I totally fell in love with my message therapist. I'll call her Malory. I know I'm an incurable flirt and give my heart away to ofter -- I'm talking about infatuation -- but I actually proposed to this woman twice. -- Time out. For all those who think I'm naive and that you've heard this tune before I have one thing to say. "Shut up." I've been a whining depressed piece of whale shit for six months. Let me enjoy my moment of fantasy. -- And anyway, it's more than that. Malory is an incredibly cool 50+ year-old lady who --look out, here it comes -- had me at hello. No shit. She's smart, sarcastic, great looking, fit, caring, self-reliant, a great masseuse and I'm just warming up. Here's the acid test: I know my kids would like her.

We have exchanged email addresses and she has my blog address, so we'll stay in touch and see if anything comes of it. I'll tell you one thing she literally wrung my neck, in the best possible sense of the word, and as much as it hurt, I could have continued talking with her for hours. Are you asking yourself why I didn't ask her to dinner tonight? Previous engagement with my Home Instead caregiver. It's lame but true.

Tomorrow I hit the road. Thanks for your time.

Malory, Thanks. You were the sunshine in an otherwise overcast vacation.