885 MILES TO PEDRO'S!

The chickadees, nuthatches and Canada geese are long gone to warmer turf. Alisson’s and Hurricane restaurants in Dock Square are shuttered and closed for renovations. Homes here on Oak Street resemble ghost houses — not even a night light. 

Time to head south.

Since late November, I’ve worn nothing but thick Polartec pants topped with turtlenecks and bulky wool sweaters. Mr. Wonderful has stayed cozy in his comfy flannel-lined jeans and layered fleece tops. 

The operative words here are “thick,” “bulky,” “layered” and “comfy.”  Svelte?  Not relevant.  

Now I’m preparing to stuff my blue-white, eggnog-laden, brie-besotted body into lime green Lily Pulitzer froufrous and they-actually-fit-me—in-October white slacks. Mr. Wonderful believes the navy blue bathing trunks he purchased in the first Bush administration still fit.  

Is it possible to lose 15 pounds in two days?

We know we are driving into a tsunami of tanned and honed folk who sweat all over their Elliptical machines every morning before finishing up with 100 squats. Or they’ve jogged five miles and then played 18 holes of golf. 

Other than haul wood from the front porch to the hearth and lift a glass of Famous Grouse and Meiomi pinot, our pecs and delts have been in hibernation.

Mr. W is lathered to leave the tundra. He’s been packed for a week. He’s converted a section of the living room into a golf driving range, practicing hourly with the Orange Whip swing trainer and the Pelz putting tutor. A major section of the trunk is loaded with golf balls, golf hats, golf gloves, golf jackets, and golf clubs. He apparently has an early tee time.

I have my own situation. Yarn and knitting needles plus several months of unread NEW YORKERS will head south with me. Along with a suitcase crammed with summer clothes I’m praying will zip up.

From Kennebunk, it’s only 885 miles to South of the Border in Dillon, South Carolina — a familiar landmark to all New Englanders who drive south. We’ll wave happily at Pedro as we zoom by to the palm trees of Florida. 

Your wandering blogger and Mr. W. are on the road!  Reports to follow.