Stranger in a strange land.....

How do you acclimate to new surroundings? How do you make friends?

For me, its just a matter of making people laugh. Once I've managed that I pretty much feel at ease and then the relationship grows easily from there.

It would seem that I am losing my touch. At least down here in Florida. 

I say "seem" because this may just be the frantic ramblings of my own twisted mind.  It seems that my humor isn't appreciated here in Florida as it is back home. I've noticed that I get a lot of "You're not from around here, are you?" and "Are you new here?" along with my personal favorite "You need to slow down and say that again...you're from up North aren't you?".  I am too fast for Florida. I move too fast, I talk to fast and I think too fast, or so I have been told,   daily.

It would seem that although Florida is a great melting pot (or God's waiting room, as some have referred to it) there are 'locals' who can smell a foreigner in 3 seconds flat.  And I stink heavily of North.  I may even have a neon sign hanging from me that says "NOT FROM HERE"....funny thing is that while I was living in France for 6 weeks I felt more at home, more welcome, then I do here in Florida.  Its not just a different state, its a different planet down here.

Maybe its the relentless heat that sets the die-in-the-wool Floridians apart from me.  Right there, I do not fit in,  I complain about the heat, they love it. I long for sweater weather, they get a chill in the shade. I want iced coffee 24/7 and they get a hot coffee and turn the air down to 75. The girls I work with wear long sleeve shirts under their scrubs because "its Fall weather" they tell me.  HAHAHAHAHA! I laugh my crazy-woman-ready-to-be-committed-to-the-nut-house-maniacal-laugh. ITS 85 DEGREES OUT AND HUMID! I don't care what the calender says, its endless summer here. But they look at me like I'M nuts, me...I'm the crazy one.  sigh

So tell me...how do I win them over? How do I get these Floridians to like me? I don't care about golf, I don't like baseball or football.  I am basically handicapped when it comes to playing sports of any kind. I am without an idea. My poor husband just rolls his eyes at me.

But then I meet a New Yorker and I'm in heaven! They talk like me, laugh loud like me, they sweat like me too. Its refreshing and wonderful. A little piece of home when ever I meet someone from the blessed state of NY or NJ...I'll even take a CT if I must. But of course a Massachusetts native is my second favorite...I haven't met anyone from my home state yet.  Still waiting for that moment. Its funny how we feel so comfortable with people that known the streets we know and have eaten at the same resturants as us. Its such a bonding experience to share the memory of the same bakery. And whenever I talk to someone from back home they tell me how much they hate it here. Now I would never go so far to say hate, not yet anyway. I wonder why they came and why they stay?

So back to the original problem. How do I win over these strangers? These people who mean me no harm but just don't understand me at all. And I don't understand them! I want to make nice, I long for acceptance.  I'm sorry I complain about the heat and the humidity. Really, I am trying. Please forgive me, dear Floridians.  I mean you no disrespect. What can I do to gain your approval? I'm sorry I talk fast, and I'm sorry I like snow. Seriously, I do like snow and I am sorry for it.  I just can't help myself.

My mother runs a tight ship. There's no way around it, that's a fact. She is relentless and tireless and she knows how she wants things to be. And tonight I am missing that very much. I am missing her offering to iron my clothes as I'm about to leave the house "because you would look better if they were ironed Sarah". I miss her making me dinner every night. I miss her laughing so hard at something I said that she chokes on her water...she always made me feel really funny when that happened. Why is it that we miss what we can't have anymore?

Its just a quiet Wednesday night. I love Wednesdays. My favorite day of the week. Even the way it's spelled and pronounced is exciting. I just love me some Wednesday. Anyway....I've been reflecting today about my mum. You see, I came home after work and tried my best to make some dinner out of nothing at all. Turns out it's easier to make love that way, dinner on the other hand requires ingredients. At least when I cook it does. But my mum, she is one of those people who can make magic out of canned corn and well, nothing at all. I had the honor of moving back home after a long long absence and not until moments like tonight do I realize just how amazing she is.

Seriously. I'm not scoring points with her by saying this. For one thing, she isn't even a follower of my blog and she will probably not even read this, ever. So this is straight from my heart and my empty stomach. That woman always has dinner ready and there is always something to snack on...and there is always a back up package of eggs downstairs in the extra fridge...and extra cheese...and bread in the freezer...and everything you would need to make a cake or brownies or chili in the cupboard (just in case). She has tons of butter and milk always on hand (in a half vegan home) along with every alternate food you could imagine. The basement shelves look like Stop and Shop and Wholefoods trucks have been unloading their goods for weeks down there. And its not nasty food you don't want to eat. She has it all...ready and on hand.

But its not just food...the woman thinks of everything...the house is perfect every moment..you never catch it looking dishevelled. My house..well, I try but it always looks like a work in progress. And my mother's trash never smells and is NEVER overflowing...ever. It doesn't even get full. I'm in awe of that....more in this moment then ever. When I get home I just want to curl up and die. When she gets home she just keeps going...and going and then she irons something.

All the laundry, all the cleaning, all the food prep and food shopping..and she pays her bills on time. I used to think I would wake up in the middle of the night and find her working away on things in the dark like a crazy elf but nope, she would be sitting in her big green chair, with her socks and slippers on, reading a book until the wee morning hours. How does she do it?

I haven't a clue but I am in awe of her and I miss her. I wish I could walk into that dark room and interrupt her from her reading to tell her about the tiny, unimportant worry I have burrowing away in my mind. I know she would stop what she was doing, place her book mark and calmly listen to whatever I'm saying, without complaining that I was taking away her quiet time. I miss my mum tonight...I guess I miss her every night.

Thank you for making life so much better Jane, with all your crazy tireless work you do every single day without complaint. You are a warrior and I am missing you tonight.

Easy Like Sunday Mornings

Sundays....when, for me at least, laundry isn't so tedious, making elaborate breakfasts are necessary and the only worry I have is how to change the music from my husband's choice of Jazz to something more my taste...anything more my taste. The sound of the fridge making ice would be more my taste. The Sandhill cranes laughing at me from the water behind our house is more soothing to me than the Jazz but for peace's sake, I'll leave it be. After all, its Sunday morning and He walked the dog for me, went food shopping before I even rolled out of bed. The least I can do is make him whole wheat pancakes and suffer with a little Jazziness.

Maybe my magnanimous mood comes also from the weather. Things are cooling down here in Florida and cool air has brought back my sense of humor and my love of life. For a while there I didn't think I was going to survive. The heat was so intense that it made you feel like you were baking from all directions...my spleen was cooked by the time I reached the car in the morning. And forget swimming in the outdoor pool. After one lap I was turned into a boiled carrot. But now I can almost imagine wanting to make soup, rather than BE soup. Almost. It still becomes high 80's by midday and that is still hot in my book. So while my friends and family begin to dress for Fall, pick apples and make pumpkin pie, I am wearing a bathing suit and turning the air on every day. Not a terrible way to live. But I miss the smell of Fall in the air and the leaves dropping all around my car every day. I miss the frosty windshield in the morning and the desire to wrap my hands around my warm coffee in the morning. There is something so normal and natural about the change of seasons. Here it feels a little like endless Summer. Like a woman in her fifties who still shops in the junior department of Macy's. Even if she can fit in the clothes you want to shout "Give it up!!" That's what Florida feels like to me now. Like the Summer should be waning and its not. For me it's something against nature to be so comfortable still with wearing sandals. I mean, its mid-October...I should not be wearing sandals still..it's just wrong. Isn't it?

There is no obvious change here...no change of leaves, no flowers that fade away. I saw a display of pumpkins downtown but with the backdrop of palm trees it just felt false and a little crazy.

But I love the coolness at night and the endless sun during the day. I love how it only seems to rain at night or late afternoon and never for very long. I love the tiny lizards that dart in front of me everywhere I walk outside and the flowers blooming constantly. As it turns out there are many things I have come to love here.. Of course, it is Sunday morning and everything is easier and better on Sundays.

I have been silent for some time. Many people who know me would be grateful for the reprieve. The reason for my uncharacteristic silence? No internet connection in my new home....

Okay, that is the main reason.....there are a few others....as follows..

1. I have suffered a deep heartbreak and the shock of it has knocked my thoughts too far to catch them
2. The internet reason
3. I began a new job and spent every moment of my breathing existence worrying about it.. "Am I doing a good job...do they like me....can they tell that I often talk to myself and even answer myself back which at times results in a heated debate with myself which can at times become violent..." 
4. I am very bewildered by my new situation here in FL. I get lost each and every time I leave the gated driveway. That is with my GPS on. The amazing part is how I try to play it cool every time I have to turn around. I think to myself, "I am bored with going South on 95, I am turning around and heading North now. I am so cool, I can do that on a whim" When really, I got on going the wrong way in the first place. (I always say these things in my head with an English accent. Somehow I feel very clever when I do it that way) Also, I think it wonderful that I feel the need to explain myself, when no one is around to ask me what I am doing. I explain myself to myself. Oh, this is fun, yesterday I dropped my clothes as I was pulling them out of the dryer and I apologized to myself...OUT LOUD. Yep, I'm a certified hot mess.
5. What is this list about again?.....oh yes, where I have been these past few weeks.
6. Grieving. And as it turns out, without any practice, I'm really quite good at it.

I have, since being unemployed this past week, baked, cooked, swam, walked, beached myself (I discovered..after going the wrong way the first time..that I live 14 miles from the loveliest beach)...walked my dog..talked to my dog and generally moped about the house..crying one moment and smiling the next (both emotions coming from blurbs of memory flashing across my mind)

Recently I bought a package of M&Ms to cheer myself and once I opened the package and began to pour them into a dish, I burst out crying. So that didn't work, did it?

I think what I have really been doing is hiding. Hiding from reality. If I don't go on with my life, time won't pass, and if I don't stare my pain in the face, it will go away. I just have to stay very still......and quiet....shhhhhhh!....here it comes...I see it...I can hear it breathing...I'll just hide here a little longer and it will move on...

But it doesn't work that way, does it? No...pain and heartbreak find you, no matter how far you bury your head in the sand. So I am writing this as therapy. I am sticking my toe in the water again, as it were. ....

Please pass the pamplemousse

One of the greatest loves of my love is food. Simple. I need it every day and I love it. That being said, I didn't really anticipate that this journey would revolve around food but it has.

In looking through my pictures today I realized just how much food I have photographed and consumed while being here in France.

Right from the start the trouble or pleasure began. We flew Delta on their business class and let me tell you, I can't imagine going back to coach. The moment you sit down they hand you glass (not plastic cup) of champagne. So instead of getting yelled at to put my purse under the seat in front of me, I am sipping champagne. Next they give you the menu FOR YOU TO CHOOSE YOUR DINNER. Have I mentioned that we are still attached by the jetway and not even moving yet? Naturally I chose cheese for my dessert and it hasn't stopped since then.

Now that's not to say that we ate out every night but the food everywhere we did go was unbelievable. Maybe it was the surroundings that made it so. Like this sandwich I had at a tiny restaurant that sits along the olive grove park in town. Just ham and swiss cheese, on the best bread ever baked. Some pink wine and I'm stuffing my face. Wonderful! Plus the knife they give you is fun.

Here, staying with my mother-in-law, food is a 3 meal a day event. Although breakfast is a easy, coffee (2 lumps of sugar please) bread

(cut into small pieces and toasted in the oven, thank

you) and assorted jams (blueberry, strawberry and fig)

However, lunch is at 1 and requires a full out meat and veggie along with a paired wine, fruit and dessert. Here I learned that my mother-in-law loves my potato salad and that celery greens are edible.

Here I just smashed some garlic spuds and put it with an amazing salad (amazing because of the cheese on top and Dennis makes the salad dressing in his lab) and this is added to the turkey breast. Notice my bitten piece of bread..sitting there as a testimony that I couldn't wait until I had taken the photo before devouring it. Bread glutton.

We did purchase along the way pieces to add to our meals. Cheese in Italy, desserts from Nice.

Actually, desserts by a general rule were always bought. I did absolutely no baking while in France. There was simply no point. Even the boxed cookies were amazing with hazelnuts or lemon bits in them. We found a particularly heavenly

coconut macaroon, soft, sweet and

wonderful at the grocery store. They even come enrobed in dark chocolate. I contrived many reasons that we needed to head down to the store but my real drive was for more coconut cookies. Even before we had the car, I would willingly trek the 3 miles in the hot sun of mid day so that I could have a supply in the fridge. Dennis got wise to that and soon put an end to my tomfoolery. So I spent my time and energy making meals, Dennis focused on buying the wine and we let France herself make the dessert.

Here we have the stove I managed to do all the cooking on during our stay in France. I found the knobs to be very disconcerting as well as the temp dial. Rather then try my hand at the math, I just guessed.

Some how though, everything worked fine. It must have been the wine.

The salads tasted better here....some how the daily fresh veggies just melted in your mouth. Biggest decisions of the meal were back balcony or front? Usually we chose the rear facing balcony that gave you the view of Monaco and the mountains. It was hot at mid-day so we tried to eat by 1PM and avoid too much sun.

And a word about the ice cream....it is worth

walking 3 miles for. Whether you get the frozen yogurt and enjoy in its lemon/citrus tartness or you combine the coconut with the dark chocolate... you won't come up for air until the entire cup is GONE. They serve it to you with this tiny plastic shovel-like spoon, I think it's to slow you down. But I was still able to stuff my face with every cool morsel, I just had to work quickly.

Almost every restaurant has something called "The Menu" which is their meal plan for you. It usually includes the starter (including a house drink) main meat choice, salad or pasta choice, dessert of choice, wine and bread and coffee. It ranges anywhere from 18 Euro to 200 Euro and up depending on where you eat it. I like the Menu because it takes the decision of what to order out of the problem and I can just sit back and enjoy every lovely surprise they bring me. Here is one menu we did in a restaurant at the Castle village before the concert in Monaco. Every bite was incredible.

We have also been able to enjoy the local flavor of friends that Dennis has known for years who have invited us to eat with them. Always an event and the flavors are unforgettable. The

highlight of this meal was shelling the little guys myself. It made me feel like I worked for the food. And the addition of the pink grapefruit (pamplemousse) in my salad was a summery surprise that paired so well with my white wine, my berry iced tea and the sweetness of the glaze on the fish. YUMMY!

Truly a wonderful experience, with something delicious to eat every single day. For 6 weeks I sat for every meal at a table, with a view and a tablecloth. Never once did I "take something to go" nor did I eat while getting dressed, driving or standing. It was a treat to enjoy the food, every single bite. I had to learn to relax and allow the time to float by. Getting your check here is almost insulting to the wait staff. You have to flag them down and beg for it. Once they have you in their restaurant they never want you to leave. But there is no iced coffee. That's my only suggestion. Other then that.....perfect. And for the record, if there was bread placed on the table, I ate every piece. I had to. It would have been a disgrace not too. I mean, look at it!!!

Thank you France, for feeding me so well. If you ever come to stay with me, I promise I will try just as hard to make you as happy as you have made me.

Last Concert in Monaco

Every summer, The Prince of Monaco hosts a series of classical concerts held in the evening to about 1,000 people gathered in the courtyard of The Palace. The seats range from 18 Euro and up. It is a "tie and jacket" affair that the armed guards are very serious about. They literally search the crowd for, no...not weapons or dangerous liquids or even cameras, though the later are strictly forbidden...no, the guards stop any man trying to gain entrance without a jacket and tie. They even have several on hand that you can rent, should you fail to read the boldface type on the ticket itself. But gain entrance you will not if there is no tie and jacket. I found this to be very charming.

So our visit here in the South of France has entered its Zenith with one week left. Dennis and I drove into Monaco last night arriving in the underground parking facility at around 8 PM. We found a staircase on the outside of the Palace grounds and began winding our way upward.

We surfaced near the Museum that is currently having a Damien Hirst exhibit of his art that includes such things as a great white shark under glass and full size model of a unicorn with half it's body dissected. Very

interesting, especially at dusk. The building itself is a work of art, surrounded by gardens and built right to the edge of the crashing seas and stone fortress walls.

I very much want to return and enjoy the museum itself, if not this trip than perhaps in the Fall.

We continued through the clear, cool night, walking upwards among the ancient government buildings and stopped by the church that witnessed the last wedding in Monaco when its crown Prince married little Miss Grace.

Just as we rounded the bend, and the darkness fell just a little more, tiny lights appeared in every nook and

cranny of the building, highlighting its beauty and all the many carvings. It was breathtaking. Almost everyone that walked past, stopped to admire it and photograph it.

As you make your slow walk through the village and stone buildings around you, there is a restaurant every few feet with scents to entice you to stop and spend a few hours enjoying what they have conjured up for your senses.

Dennis and I find it hard to resist them so we stop many times to read the menu posted on the outside wall and talk about what we would order if we were eating there.

The cobblestone pathways and narrow roads all run like rivers to the castle and there we soon find ourselves, at the very back of the fortress of Monaco with the grounds of the castle before us, lovely women and well dressed men walking towards the open doors, between the white uniformed guards of the Palace. The ancient doors are thrown open to welcome us but before we enter, we veered to the right and walked over toward the edge of the city walls to enjoy the view of the harbor below us as the evening sky darkened completely and the stars winked down at us.

Its hard to imagine a lovelier place when you are standing there and yet the camera cannot really capture what we can with our eyes. All the twinkling lights of the city together with the boats make on continuous diamond necklace draped on the shoulders of the sea.

Much like Cinderella, we looked up at the castle clock and saw that we only had a few minutes to find our seats. Off we went to join the gathering crowd at the doors. Very polite and well mannered, except for some loud British women asking the guards to take their picture, which the guard refused with an air of the highly insulted, we walked quietly inside. After your ticket is taken, an uniformed usher personally takes you to your assigned seat. Every single blue cushioned seat was taken by a jeweled lady or polished man. The night air was cool with the lights of the Palace around us glimmering over the marble and artwork all around us. The roof of the courtyard was the black cloudless sky with a few stars relieving the darkness. You could hear the irregular sounds of the musicians tuning their instruments, although they remained hidden from our sight.

I noticed the time had arrived to begin and the audience was quietly seated but still nothing happened. For several minutes we waited, with no one speaking. And then the Royal Family

arrived and were seated in the box directly opposite the stage. Prince Albert and his fiance' sat in front. The very moment they took their seats the musicians came out followed soon after by the conductor, to a great deal of cheering. The three pieces they place for us included one piece by Debussy, La Mer, that has always been a favorite of Dennis. But for me, the second piece we heard was the highlight of the concert, not because I knew it well but because of Dennis. His father had been a professional violinist and for his college graduation and thesis he chose to play the violin solo from Max Bruch and we were able to hear it played last night. Dennis told me that he never hears that music without seeing in his mind his father playing with such passion and abandon. Dennis' father John died in 1975. It was a very moving piece to hear. Fast, very fast, the concert ended and we were walking again through the night to our car.

But we had decided to spend some time in town so we made our way to the Cafe de Paris and the Hotel and Casino that sit side by side with it.

When Dennis was living in France years ago he worked at the hotel for some time. The amount of marble and the artwork overwhelms you quickly.

At the Cafe we secured a roadside table and were able to enjoy people watching and car watching as we ate a club sandwich and Dennis drank a beer while I devoured a berry berry and vodka frozen delight. Even the clocks at the Cafe are Rolex. Although you are not allowed to photograph the inside of anything, you can freely walk in and out of the hotel.....

the Casino and the grounds themselves. It quickly became 3 Am, and neither of us felt tired. Everyone is milling around and eating, laughing or drinking so it doesn't feel like very late at night or, in this case, very early on a Monday morning.

Even the cars parked outside the Casino are works of art in themselves.

We walked all along the cars and the gardens until we found our way back to the beginning and within minutes we were off towards home. ~ The end.

In memory of the Emperor

I am sitting, drinking my evening tea (caramel tea to which I add sugar making it what Dennis disapprovingly calls "liquid candy") and I am thinking back on our day today. We had no plans when we started this morning. After the usual quiet breakfast on the western facing balcony, Dennis started writing out his daily to-do list and I began doing my usual, the dishes. We decided to take advantage of the cool morning air and we loaded Denise into the car to drive out to the "Roman ruin" nearby. Dennis has a love of all things Roman and ruined. Now, getting ready to leave once the decision has been made is no small feat for us mostly because Captain Hook (our lovingly, affectionate name for Denise because of the noise she makes with her cane as she walks through the house) requires many different things before she feels ready to leave. Like her bag, her sunglasses, her sweater and sweatshirt (yes, both.....just in case) and all the doors in the house must be closed...and then we need to recheck the doors, and then the cushions have to be brought in from the balcony, and "do we have my sweater? Do we have gas in the car? Where is my bag?" followed by..."are the doors closed? I don't want animals to come in" (she lives on the 3rd floor). But finally we have her loaded into the lift...and we are riding down and walking to the car and she asks me, "Do we have gas for the car? Where is the car? I can't remembur anything anymore" Such a cute sweet French woman.

We head out toward The Trophy. This monument celebrates the victory of the Roman Emperor Augustus over the people of the Alps. He subjugated (killed, enslaved, ruined their lives in general) these tribes between 25 and 14
B.C. In 7-6 B.C., the senate of Rome dedicated this trophy to Him. It is standing at the highest point of the road on the Via Julia which Augustus built to facilitate exchanges with Gaul. So we are about to walk up Roman roads (built by slaves), among the original Roman gardens (planted by slaves) to view something that was built (by slaves) before Christ was born.

Along the walk we come across beautiful views of Monaco and the surrounding areas including Italy in the distance. It was sunny and cool where we were yet ahead there was a quickly gathering storm. It hasn't rained here in France during our entire visit. The cactus in the photo (this is some info on the side) blossoms this huge flower only once every 100 years. Amazing...

We first reach the museum that shows a completed replica of the Trophy as it would have looked before it was dismantled in 1705 and much of the stone used to build the nearby village.

Throughout the room are original pieces found at the site that were used to reconstruct the trophy to its current state. There were once many of these standing as a proclamation of the power and glory of the Romans. Only two survive to this day. The other is in Romania.

It is something poetic to stand among pieces of stone and carvings that were made so long ago. To stand where these long dead and mostly forgotten men once stood.

The first thing that strikes you is the sheer size of this monument. And then you remind yourself that this is a ruin, just a portion of what it looked like when it was complete.

Our handsome gentleman tour guide informed us that the huge columns we see surrounded the entire structure, totaling 24 columns. Very little is known about the structure because the Romans were not very good at keeping records and because there wasn't much love for them coming from the tribes that they enslaved, so all records were destroyed. On the very top of the entire structure was a huge statue of the Emperor Augustus himself, making the height of the entire Trophy at about 50 meters. This structure was simply built to honor the Emperor like a god. The Trophy itself is placed to mark the end (or beginning, depending on how you like to look at things) of the Alps. Augustus was deified and assimilated to Hercules because he opened roads through the Alps. The subjugation of the Alpine tribes was therefore just a pretext to legitimise the hero-worship of the Emperor: the celebration of his exploits highlighted his divine nature. MMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmm.....I guess its clear why the locals tore as much of it down as they could. No one wants to be reminded of the 'god' who came through and subjugated you...I'm just stating the facts

But it sure was HUGE!!! Along the side of the Trophy is this massive inscription in marble dedicating it to the Emperor and naming all 45 tribes that he slaughtered to get there in the first place. But the marble was lovely....Italian marble

The structure is made almost entirely of limestone that was dug up (guess who did the digging?) in the nearby quarry and dragged up the mountainside.

After walking all around it, standing next to it and putting my hands where ancient Romans and subjugated tribes (I couldn't help myself) put there hands, we found a staircase and start climbing. Dennis says to me "just think, this was built before Joseph and Mary were even married" And I swear to you, I stopped on the stairs and thought..."Who do we know named Joseph and Mary?" ...... Well, he said it like they were a couple we hang out with. I didn't know he meant THE Joseph and Mary.

So we reach the top, without railings or any safety equipment (as if the monument itself is saying "Go ahead, hurt yourself...mere mortal whom I would easily subjugate if I could just find me some Romans) and this is the view we drink in. The wind was blowing and you could see lightening in the distance. Its quickly obvious that this thing was built to remind everyone that Roman was driving this train. This must have been fearsome to behold.

The more you look, the more amazed you feel. In the left hand edge of the picture above you can see the remains of the quarry used to gather and haul the limestone (carried and gathered by the subjugated tribes, naturally)

It was really hard to pull ourselves away but it had been over an hour since we left The Captain waiting in the car so be began our climb down.

Along the way we edge over to enjoy the views of Monaco and I notice that there is a goat, no..wait.....two goats on the other side of the fence, just hanging. Ahhh...France, with Roman ruins, Monaco in the distance....and.............goats. Of course!

We make it back to the car and then the 15 minutes home...but before we can even arrive we are totally swallowed by the rain storm crawling up the mountain. Fat, bloated rain drops hit us, and cause rivers all along the roads. Everywhere we see scooters pulled over waiting it out but the storm ends up lasting 3 hours. And the wind was fierce and the rain icy. 2 days ago it was 90 degrees in the shade of the balcony.....while now its raining and it has dropped to 63. I love this place. Its crazy!

Of course we had to wrap Denise in two sweaters and a fleece blanket but I was in a tank top, soaking up the cold as I cooked us lunch (more on that later)......

I will say this, its a good thing the Captain had us lock down the castle before we left...the wind and rain was everywhere! Smart lady!