Murmurs in Miramar

The most exciting parts of this week were that all of Ronald's tools (Sandy's too) disappeared from the living room and we went to our first beachy Tai Chi class. Plus also: this blog installment is being written from our separate desks in the home office (instead of shoulder to shoulder on the temporary setup we've been making do with heretofore). All told, there's been a lot of drilling and screwing and sawing and pounding and windexing since we last wrote: the joint is starting to take shape.

Tai Chi at the Grayton Fitness Center on Wednesday mornings is led by a bald dude named Henry, with backup instruction provided by the guy who runs the Tuesday night class, Ed. While we were waiting for class to start we made the acquaintance of two other students, Sharon and Jenny, who warned us not to ask questions because Henry loves to explain everything and will go off at any opportunity. The Fitness Center, the site formerly of a restaurant (that's what S remembers anyhow), is, as E says, chock-a-block with fitness equipment, the names of which neither S nor E know--well, okay, there are some treadmills, but otherwise, we're clueless. Almost every machine was in use--clearly this is a hub of local activity. (We even saw the owner of The Smiling Fish Cafe, who came over to thank us again for eating at his resto on Tuesday, Locals' Night.)

Our class is held in a little dance studio/exercise room, just off the main facility. Since Henry was running late (something that seems as if it might be the norm), Ed started class with warmups unlike any we'd ever done before, and when Henry arrived, the strangeness continued: we spent the entire class performing assorted GiGong (breathing) exercises and never did a single Tai Chi form, much less a whole set. This put us in mind of our original teacher, James. We liked the class a lot and plan to make it a regular Wednesday activity.

Monday we hit the Bingo Castle (and hardly won a thing: poo). On the way home, we detoured over to Miramar Beach where there's a post office convenient to the eastbound lanes of Hwy 98. All around the parking lot were huge beautyberry bushes, and just down the road we encountered a little resort called Murmuring Waves. (Sure, S shoulda taken a picture--maybe another time.) Try saying Murmuring Waves in Miramar Beach a few times...

On Tuesday afternoon, we invited our neighbors Sadie and Nancy over for drinks: they were at the beach because of an unbelievable snafu with the development's irrigation system that was impinging mightily on their pocketbook. A measure of our general progress is that we all sat at the kitchen table which had been entirely cleared of picture wire and drywall mollies. Avid football fans (Vandy is their team), they opined that this year, Bama is the Real Deal. Their interests don't stop with football: every year they go to the NCAA Women's Final Four. In short, they remind us of Other Women. They own a big shaggy Golden Retriever which, according to Sadie, had a big ol' throwdown with the metal dog next to our front stoop: apparently our dog won't be pissing in their yard any time soon.

After they split to continue their assorted house-drama projects, we took off ourselves in search of some dinner. Right out the door we were stunned by a hundred or so dragon flies wheeling about overhead. Not puny dragonflies either: you wouldn't want to get crosswise of one of these choppers. It turns out that the first week of October is the peak of the Green Darner Dragonfly migration, and that Florida is both a fly-over and a destination for these beauties. Catty-corner from Sunrise Beach, over at the aforementioned Smiling Fish, where the food is predictably good, there were no dragonflies to be seen. E had her usual, Crispy Duck, and S ate roasted shrimp on a bed of risotto and mushrooms. We had great seats near the corner with a good view of the Gulf and vehicular and pedestrian goings-on. The wait-staff are all sporting shirts that say Be Nice or Leave. We were very nice, but eventually left anyhow.

We're eagerly awaiting Von's visit this weekend: she'll arrive in time for the first presidential debate (assuming it comes off!) and we can't think of anybody we'd rather watch it with.