February 24, 2011--Snowbirding: Peggy Pays A Visit--Part 2
Part one of Peggy Pays A Visit can be found directly below this posting.
But wouldn’t you know it, at 8:30 sharp the next morning Peggy was awake, dressed, and made up, waiting for us impatiently to emerge from our bedroom.
Tapping her watch, she said, “I thought down here you get up at dawn, which cracked two hours ago.” Rona was still rubbing sleep from her eyes. “You know what they say about the early bird, or is it the early worm—I get so confused with rural expressions. Or are you only early-birds in the afternoon when you hunt around for a two-for-one dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon?”
It was going to be one of those days I thought, but fibbed, “We’ve been up for hours, waiting quietly in bed reading so as not to disturb you.”
“Consider me disturbed. One of your neighbors was out loading golf clubs or guns in his car before dawn. I could hear him muttering about an early tee time in Boca or some other awful place. So, I thought, why not get up early like everyone else in Florida. Also, assuming you’re up for it, I thought this would give us time to go to that Green Parrot of yours for coffee.”
“Owl,” Rona said, “The Green Owl.”
“Since when are owls green? Though I’m not much of a nature person.”
“There’s quite a nice café in town, right at the beach, ” I said, hoping she’d prefer a café to a coffee shop and that I could keep her from embarrassing us with our friends at the Green Owl. “Luna Rosa’s coffee’s much better. You can even get your extra-dark espresso there. And of course there’s the view.”
“As I like to say--when in Florida, do as the Floridians. I’d prefer indigenous coffee. I’ll get plenty of espresso when I’m back in the city. So how about it, let’s go to your Owl place.” She winked at me, “I promise to behave myself.”
She did try, but when we arrived at the Owl, with me wearing sunglasses in an attempt to retain a hint of anonymity, Peggy asked in a quiet voice if we might sit at the counter. I had suggested an outdoor table, thinking we would run into fewer Owl regulars there; but with Peggy urging her on and Rona taking the lead, we went in and as luck would have it there were three side-by-side stools.
I noticed that Harvey Green was perched on the one adjacent to the ones that Rona had spotted. I attempted to take the seat next to him and suggested that Peggy sit at the other end as far away from Harvey and trouble as possible. This because I knew that if she drew him into a conversation about politics, as I felt certain she would, things would become incendiary in a hurry.
“That’s a better seat,” I said, “closer to the kitchen so you can watch them work. You always like seats by open kitchens when we go out in New York.”
“I’d rather sit next to that nice man, if that’s all right with you,” she pointed and whispered loud enough so that I’m sure Harvey could hear, “He’s very handsome and who knows maybe available.” And with her most glorious smile she slid in next to him, extended her hand, and said, “I’m Peggy. And who are you?”
“I’m Harvey and if you need life insurance I’m your man.”
At the same moment Traci brought Peggy a mug of Owl’s coffee, and she made neither a fuss nor a face, immediately sipping away at it as if it were her favorite New York City espresso.
“If I ever decide to die, I’ll give you a call.”
Harvey laughed and said, “Up to now I thought I’d heard it all. And now along you come and . . .”
“. . . bring into your life a little big city humor.” Here we go I thought.
“Why don’t you look at the menu,” I suggested, “They make some very nice omelets. Including with egg whites.”
Ignoring me, Peggy leaned seductively closer to Harvey and cooed, “So you find insurance fascinating, do you?”
“To tell you the truth, not really.”
“So what turns you on?”
“That’s a long story but for another occasion.” He too could be flirtatious. “But, among other things, I like politics. I’m quite active in Republican politics and . . .”
“Peggy, please, let’s order,” I interjected, “Traci doesn’t have all day and . . .”
“You’re political? I’d love to hear more about that.”
“Traci, can I have some scrambled egg whites with spinach. And what about you, Peggy?” trying to get her to change the subject, “What’s your pleasure?”
“My pleasure is also for another occasion,” she winked at Harvey. “But I am famished. Must be the ocean air.” Pointing at Harvey’s eggs, bacon, and a side of grits smothered with cheese, she said to Traci, “I’ll have the same as Harv.”
Harv, I thought, no one calls him that. And, she never eats anything like bacon and eggs and cheese for breakfast—not only does Peggy try to keep an eye on her weight but also suffers from high cholesterol. “It looks delicious. So, tell me Harv, are you one of those Tea Party nuts?” I slumped in my stool, swiveled away from them, and put my sunglasses back on, pretending I didn’t know Peggy.
“Actually, I’m a fiscal conservative,” Harvey said, “but otherwise quite libertarian when it comes to social issues. For example, you might like this, I believe women should be allowed to have control of their bodies, including their reproductive rights. The government should stay out of that aspect of their lives.”
“Really, to tell you the truth, that surprises me. From what Steven has said about the people he knows down here most of you-all don’t believe in abortion. Or gay marriage.” She pronounced "abortion" and "gay marriage" in a loud enough voice that half the people sitting at the counter stopped eating and turned toward Peggy.
“To tell you the truth, though I agree with you, I never would have taken you for a choice kind of fellow. Especially after how he described you. Not you specifically, but his Florida friends.” Without looking at me, Peggy pointed in my direction to make sure all the regulars knew she was with me.
And they were listening raptly. I felt compelled to add, “If I talked with Peggy about you at all—which I doubt--I never spoke in any but the most respectful way.” Raising my voice so all could overhear, I was again concerned about how I would be viewed by the Owl folks after Peggy went back north, I added, “I mean about everyone here. How much I like and respect all you guys.”
“We know you love us,” Ted from the other side of the counter said.
“And who are you?” Peggy asked, ignoring Harvey for the moment.
“I’m Ted. I moved here about 15 years ago after retiring from the military. And you?”
“I’m Peggy. I’m down for a few days. Staying with Rona and Steve. I’m from New York City.”
“I could have guessed that,” Ted said.
“I think Steve told me about you. Aren’t you the one who has all those gold coins?”
Thankfully Peggy’s food arrived. “Eat before it gets cold,” I said, once more desperate to distract her.
“I do have some gold as a part of my investments. That’s true.”
Not paying attention to her food, Peggy said, “Isn’t holding gold for people who think the sky is falling?”
Ted who has seen it all, heard it all, calmly asked, “Are you sure it isn’t? The sky I mean. Have you been following what’s going on in the Middle East? You feel confident that all will turn out well?”
“Well . . .”
“And though I don’t mean to be personal, it’s not my business of course, but if you have a 401(k) . . .” Peggy had a mouthful of eggs and nodded to indicate she did, “I wonder how it’s been doing in comparison to my gold.” She was chewing and swallowing. I knew she had taken quite a hit, like the rest of us who had only conventional investments.
“I know you think those of us who are into gold are crazy, that we follow Glenn Beck religiously.” His saying “religiously,” I feared, would set Peggy off on one of her atheism tirades. But she kept working on her eggs and listening. “But, some of us are not. I think of those of us who hold some gold as just cautious and,” he paused for emphasis, “smart.”
“You may have a point there, Fred,” Peggy said softly after taking a long pull on her coffee.
“Ted. I’m Ted.”
“Sorry Ted. I’m terrible with names but I should try to remember yours because I want to tell my broker about you when I call him later today. Maybe he should get me into some gold.”
Thankfully we had just about finished breakfast. Without checking with Rona or me, Peggy told Harvey we’d come in for coffee the next day and hoped to see him. He said that since she’d be back he’d be sure to be there as well and promised that maybe they’d talk a little more about what turns him on. “Only if you tell me what turns you on,” he said with a sly smile.
Traci came over with the check and asked if we wanted anything else. Peggy said, “Well, maybe one more thing.”
“Anything,” Traci said.
“Maybe I could have a cup of your coffee to take with me. It really is delicious.” Rona and I exchanged puzzled glances.
To be concluded tomorrow . . .
But wouldn’t you know it, at 8:30 sharp the next morning Peggy was awake, dressed, and made up, waiting for us impatiently to emerge from our bedroom.
Tapping her watch, she said, “I thought down here you get up at dawn, which cracked two hours ago.” Rona was still rubbing sleep from her eyes. “You know what they say about the early bird, or is it the early worm—I get so confused with rural expressions. Or are you only early-birds in the afternoon when you hunt around for a two-for-one dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon?”
It was going to be one of those days I thought, but fibbed, “We’ve been up for hours, waiting quietly in bed reading so as not to disturb you.”
“Consider me disturbed. One of your neighbors was out loading golf clubs or guns in his car before dawn. I could hear him muttering about an early tee time in Boca or some other awful place. So, I thought, why not get up early like everyone else in Florida. Also, assuming you’re up for it, I thought this would give us time to go to that Green Parrot of yours for coffee.”
“Owl,” Rona said, “The Green Owl.”
“Since when are owls green? Though I’m not much of a nature person.”
“There’s quite a nice café in town, right at the beach, ” I said, hoping she’d prefer a café to a coffee shop and that I could keep her from embarrassing us with our friends at the Green Owl. “Luna Rosa’s coffee’s much better. You can even get your extra-dark espresso there. And of course there’s the view.”
“As I like to say--when in Florida, do as the Floridians. I’d prefer indigenous coffee. I’ll get plenty of espresso when I’m back in the city. So how about it, let’s go to your Owl place.” She winked at me, “I promise to behave myself.”
She did try, but when we arrived at the Owl, with me wearing sunglasses in an attempt to retain a hint of anonymity, Peggy asked in a quiet voice if we might sit at the counter. I had suggested an outdoor table, thinking we would run into fewer Owl regulars there; but with Peggy urging her on and Rona taking the lead, we went in and as luck would have it there were three side-by-side stools.
I noticed that Harvey Green was perched on the one adjacent to the ones that Rona had spotted. I attempted to take the seat next to him and suggested that Peggy sit at the other end as far away from Harvey and trouble as possible. This because I knew that if she drew him into a conversation about politics, as I felt certain she would, things would become incendiary in a hurry.
“That’s a better seat,” I said, “closer to the kitchen so you can watch them work. You always like seats by open kitchens when we go out in New York.”
“I’d rather sit next to that nice man, if that’s all right with you,” she pointed and whispered loud enough so that I’m sure Harvey could hear, “He’s very handsome and who knows maybe available.” And with her most glorious smile she slid in next to him, extended her hand, and said, “I’m Peggy. And who are you?”
“I’m Harvey and if you need life insurance I’m your man.”
At the same moment Traci brought Peggy a mug of Owl’s coffee, and she made neither a fuss nor a face, immediately sipping away at it as if it were her favorite New York City espresso.
“If I ever decide to die, I’ll give you a call.”
Harvey laughed and said, “Up to now I thought I’d heard it all. And now along you come and . . .”
“. . . bring into your life a little big city humor.” Here we go I thought.
“Why don’t you look at the menu,” I suggested, “They make some very nice omelets. Including with egg whites.”
Ignoring me, Peggy leaned seductively closer to Harvey and cooed, “So you find insurance fascinating, do you?”
“To tell you the truth, not really.”
“So what turns you on?”
“That’s a long story but for another occasion.” He too could be flirtatious. “But, among other things, I like politics. I’m quite active in Republican politics and . . .”
“Peggy, please, let’s order,” I interjected, “Traci doesn’t have all day and . . .”
“You’re political? I’d love to hear more about that.”
“Traci, can I have some scrambled egg whites with spinach. And what about you, Peggy?” trying to get her to change the subject, “What’s your pleasure?”
“My pleasure is also for another occasion,” she winked at Harvey. “But I am famished. Must be the ocean air.” Pointing at Harvey’s eggs, bacon, and a side of grits smothered with cheese, she said to Traci, “I’ll have the same as Harv.”
Harv, I thought, no one calls him that. And, she never eats anything like bacon and eggs and cheese for breakfast—not only does Peggy try to keep an eye on her weight but also suffers from high cholesterol. “It looks delicious. So, tell me Harv, are you one of those Tea Party nuts?” I slumped in my stool, swiveled away from them, and put my sunglasses back on, pretending I didn’t know Peggy.
“Actually, I’m a fiscal conservative,” Harvey said, “but otherwise quite libertarian when it comes to social issues. For example, you might like this, I believe women should be allowed to have control of their bodies, including their reproductive rights. The government should stay out of that aspect of their lives.”
“Really, to tell you the truth, that surprises me. From what Steven has said about the people he knows down here most of you-all don’t believe in abortion. Or gay marriage.” She pronounced "abortion" and "gay marriage" in a loud enough voice that half the people sitting at the counter stopped eating and turned toward Peggy.
“To tell you the truth, though I agree with you, I never would have taken you for a choice kind of fellow. Especially after how he described you. Not you specifically, but his Florida friends.” Without looking at me, Peggy pointed in my direction to make sure all the regulars knew she was with me.
And they were listening raptly. I felt compelled to add, “If I talked with Peggy about you at all—which I doubt--I never spoke in any but the most respectful way.” Raising my voice so all could overhear, I was again concerned about how I would be viewed by the Owl folks after Peggy went back north, I added, “I mean about everyone here. How much I like and respect all you guys.”
“We know you love us,” Ted from the other side of the counter said.
“And who are you?” Peggy asked, ignoring Harvey for the moment.
“I’m Ted. I moved here about 15 years ago after retiring from the military. And you?”
“I’m Peggy. I’m down for a few days. Staying with Rona and Steve. I’m from New York City.”
“I could have guessed that,” Ted said.
“I think Steve told me about you. Aren’t you the one who has all those gold coins?”
Thankfully Peggy’s food arrived. “Eat before it gets cold,” I said, once more desperate to distract her.
“I do have some gold as a part of my investments. That’s true.”
Not paying attention to her food, Peggy said, “Isn’t holding gold for people who think the sky is falling?”
Ted who has seen it all, heard it all, calmly asked, “Are you sure it isn’t? The sky I mean. Have you been following what’s going on in the Middle East? You feel confident that all will turn out well?”
“Well . . .”
“And though I don’t mean to be personal, it’s not my business of course, but if you have a 401(k) . . .” Peggy had a mouthful of eggs and nodded to indicate she did, “I wonder how it’s been doing in comparison to my gold.” She was chewing and swallowing. I knew she had taken quite a hit, like the rest of us who had only conventional investments.
“I know you think those of us who are into gold are crazy, that we follow Glenn Beck religiously.” His saying “religiously,” I feared, would set Peggy off on one of her atheism tirades. But she kept working on her eggs and listening. “But, some of us are not. I think of those of us who hold some gold as just cautious and,” he paused for emphasis, “smart.”
“You may have a point there, Fred,” Peggy said softly after taking a long pull on her coffee.
“Ted. I’m Ted.”
“Sorry Ted. I’m terrible with names but I should try to remember yours because I want to tell my broker about you when I call him later today. Maybe he should get me into some gold.”
Thankfully we had just about finished breakfast. Without checking with Rona or me, Peggy told Harvey we’d come in for coffee the next day and hoped to see him. He said that since she’d be back he’d be sure to be there as well and promised that maybe they’d talk a little more about what turns him on. “Only if you tell me what turns you on,” he said with a sly smile.
Traci came over with the check and asked if we wanted anything else. Peggy said, “Well, maybe one more thing.”
“Anything,” Traci said.
“Maybe I could have a cup of your coffee to take with me. It really is delicious.” Rona and I exchanged puzzled glances.
To be concluded tomorrow . . .
posted by Steven Zwerling at
4:39 AM
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