Florida, flab, and fish

We’re slowly trying to build a routine here, activities for day-to-day in between sightseeing and getting to know the area.
My Guy has joined the art center, a very busy place with classes practically all day, every day. I’ve signed up with the YMCA, with mixed success. They kinda sorta honored my membership back home by lowering the monthly fee to belong here in Florida, so I’m actually paying twice.

 But I need to go – it’s surprising how living on one floor can change your activity level. I’m no longer carrying full baskets of laundry up and down two flights of stairs, and everything I use or need seems to be within arm’s reach instead of at the other end of the house. No running down to the basement three times (because I forget the item the first two), no shoveling, no raking Add that to wine every night and more frequent dinners out and flab creep is lurking around the corner.

           Speaking of dinners out, we attempted out first meal at a restaurant with the fluffy pooch. We were given a table on a patio that was designated for dog owners, although I saw no other people with dogs. Our table was a small two-person one, with little room for Mamie underneath. I’d had this vision of her napping cutely under my chair while we dined, but that never happened. She wasn’t too sure what to do; for the first 15 minutes or so she just stood next to my chair while I tried to find some way to hold her leash while simultaneously eating and drinking. Finally, we compromised – she sat next to me while every now and then I gave her a tiny piece of the bread from my fish sandwich. The good news was that she didn’t appear nervous or frightened, just bemused at all the people and music.

          Afterwards we strolled around the small downtown area by the jazz group in a small park and down one of the quieter streets where we could sit on a bench and listen to the music.

          We finished the evening outside at Dairy Queen where Mamie had her first small taste of ice cream (very favorably received) from a sample on my finger. And we all went home happy, if a bit sticky. At that point my hands were coated with grouper drippings, dog spit, vanilla ice cream, and more dog spit.