Drove to Walgreen’s this morning to get the Sunday New York Times, mmmm. Just in case I had any affectionate notion of staying in Florida longer, the truck parked next to mine decided me. The bumper sticker read “GUNS DON'T KILL PEOPLE - ABORTIONS KILL PEOPLE.” I’m outta here.
It's hard to understand why abortion continues to be the biggest controversy down here. You'd think this was a Catholic country. It must have something to do with controlling women's bodies, hating these new-fangled notions of women deciding what goes on inside. How to make sense of: Guns don't kill people. What kind of mind came up with that slogan?
One I don't want even to park beside, thank you very much.
Have started to open drawers and cupboards and contemplate my mother's and aunt's life here over the years - their box of Christmas decorations and box marked "extra wine glasses," in case they ever had a social event, which they never did. Love the Canadian flag stuck in a large glass vase full of shells. What to do with it all? Ah well, there's hardly anything here, at least in comparison with Mum's Ottawa apartment and its 600 pairs of knee-high stockings and 30 year collection of Bon Appetit magazines.
It's too bad that this place is so inhospitable politically, because it sure is wonderful in other ways - water, sunshine, palm trees, pelicans. In the morning, squeezing fresh tangelo juice and going for a swim.
However. Moving right along.
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