Martha and I escaped Ocala, Florida Wednesday and Thursday last week. We visited Sanibel Island, Florida. The traffic was heavy even on those cold and windy days, but if I return to Sanibel someday, I’d prefer not to do it in January! Yet, I can only imagine how many more cars and bicycles in summer and in fall would congest the narrow, winding strands of pavement, sand and gravel traversing that pebble in the Gulf of Mexico.
Martha had visited Sanibel before and was mesmerized with it. Hence, she desired to pass some of that fantasy and relaxation to me. Eating at some of the picturesque, local hole-in-the-wall restaurants was a primary destination island experience. Martha and I ate lunch at The Bubble Room, with nostalgic bubble lights everywhere. The eatery also featured antique displays of storefront Christmas of yesteryear, carnival machines and pictures galore of Hollywood celebrities of a bygone time. On another day, we ate breakfast at The Island Cow, and as one might surmise, much of the décor was cowy. Martha and I also ate at Cheeburger Cheeburger; what do you think we ate? Burgers, of course!
Aside from dining, we toured the National Shell Museum. I was shocked at the entry fee, but especially Martha enjoyed what they had to offer, though she had been there before. Martha has a thing for shells and collects them, thankfully, in a small way.
The main attractions on Sanibel Island as far as Martha was concerned were the sandy but shell populated beaches and the waves of the sea. We visited two beaches, and on the first day I, too, went barefoot through the sand; Martha and I both allowed the cold waters of the gulf to lap our feet and ankles. Day two, though, I kept my shoes on, stayed on the walkway and huddled with my overshirt buttoned to my neck in an effort to thwart the chilling, steady sea breeze. Martha, however, searched for shells once more. As you can imagine, there was very little immodesty there last week, though I did wonder about a handful of guys and gals over those two days who seemed to be impervious to the frosty temperatures.
Back safely in Ocala, Martha and I are busy with sundry aspects of our stateside and overseas ministry. Still, we are able to move along at our own pace. In a few minutes, we are going to enjoy our heated pool for the final time before falling temperatures make it impractical to heat it. Before many of you could imagine doing so because of where you live, we’ll be able to return to our pool in a couple of months or so. As far as I’m concerned, our Ocala home provides us a daily vacation at a fraction of the cost of leaving the house. Martha calls me a hermit!
Louis & Martha Rushmore 