Thanks to Scarlett

Yesterday, we worked on avoiding having to come home. After assisting Kevin and Susan and Frank and the girls to get their stuff downstairs and out the door and headed homeward, Cindy, Kate and I then worked on trying to get the car packed for our return home, doing this in such a round a bout way as to nearly obviate the task.

We were finally able to say goodbye to mom and dad and head the car into Apalachicola for one more time of Christmas shopping, browsing and trying to keep warm against the cold November winds blowing from toward Pensacola. We ate our last meal of seafood from the coast at the Apalachicola Grill, an old place on the corner, where the road (98) takes an abrupt left, and creating one of the more unusual traffic patterns. This intersection is right at the center of town and 98, as said previously, goes to a stop, then quick turn to the left toward Mexico Beach, St. Joes, and Panama City. The drivers heading west have the right of way. Everyone else must stop and wait. Kind of odd.

At the restaurant, now apparently owned by some women living an alternative lifestyle judging by the rainbow flags in profusion and the absence of men working on the staff, I ate a soft-shelled crab sandwich. It reminded me of my first soft shell crab experience. We were eating in Dunwoody with my parents at one of those places in Dunwoody Village which cannot stay open in one restaurant, but changes every few months. Anyway, I ordered the soft-shelled crab. Upon delivery from the kitchen, I put the ordinary condiments on the crab and then started eating said crustacean whole. My mother, who was born in Florida and should know better, opined that I should not eat the whole thing. I tried to inform her that soft-shelled crabs are, in fact, eaten whole. She spent the rest of our meal watching me with a mixture of horror and concern on her face, as I ate the crabs.

I will admit it does take a little bit of effort on your part to eat whole what is ordinarily taken a part, the hard parts removed, and then eaten carefully to avoid the ingestion of shell. I will admit that eating crabs in their soft-shell version is somewhat easier than picking apart the meat from the shell and eating the meat. However, it also requires some mental effort on the part of the eater to forget that the soft part around the meat, would be hard and inedible if the crab were left to its own devices. Of course, I suppose that if left to his own devices, the crab would prefer not being ingested at all.

Nevertheless, Kate, Cindy and I all agreed that we had eaten enough oysters and other seafood this week. The oystermen can relax. At least until Christmas Eve.

Now today, the sky is dreary and there is a solid mist falling on the world of Central Georgia. As Kate finished packing her automobile, I called her to the driveway, where I pointed out the late November beauty to be seen from the driveway in her little house in Griffin. The browns, oranges and russets were magnificent. I reminded her that beauty was all around her for the examination. And that she should come home and enjoy the beauty in her own home town.

I don't know what was different. Perhaps it was the dreariness of the day. Perhaps it was the absence of anything at home to await us when we arrived. Perhaps it was just the realization that Kate will be graduating from college soon and that, perhaps, she will be packing and bidding adieu more permanently soon. At any rate, there was something more permanent about her leaving today. I tried to make her leaving a bit more profound. Perhaps more than the normal hug and wave from the end of the driveway.

Oh well. Tomorrow is another day.