Oysters with Pearl

Dave and I have rapidly settled into the American way of life. We are eating, eating, eating and occasionally shopping. When in Rome, I suppose.

We went to breakfast yesterday at the Cortez Cafe, which is one of my favorite spots for pancakes and eggs (and I had both). Then we moved some furniture and wall decor to Daves' parents' new place in Discovery Village, which sounds like a bigger job than it really was -- the furniture wasn't large and our cars have capacious rear storage so we could do it without renting a U-Haul or anything like that.

While Dave and his sister stayed at DV to assemble some chairs for his parents (imagine long but unnecessary story here involving free chairs mistakenly sent via Amazon), I decided to run to Kohl's to return a belt that his mom sent for my birthday in November. (When I say "run" I mean drive, obviously. Again, the American way of life.)

The belt was too small. I have a 32-inch waist but she sent me a 32-inch belt, which of course means it wasn't long enough to be buckled because you need a little extra belt for that. So I brought it back from London and drove it to Kohl's and explained my tale of woe: old purchase, different store, no receipt, blah blah blah.

They were nice about it, even though I could only get a refund for about two-thirds of what Dave's mom paid. I intended to also buy a replacement belt and some new undershirts. But the process turned complicated when they needed a driver's license, which I suddenly could not find. I looked in my wallet and my pockets and...WHERE WAS MY DRIVER'S LICENSE?! I can't drive around Florida for a whole week with no license!

I tried to pass of my British biometric ID card but that wouldn't work because they have to scan a bar code on the license, and then of course that led to questions about why I had a British ID and a purported Florida license that I couldn't find. I finally ran out to the car and was half-tempted to drive away before I got arrested for identity fraud -- but I found the license, which I'd carelessly tossed into the glove box, thank god thank god thank god. I took it in and they scanned it and then they needed a phone number for my Kohl's reward dollars, or something like that, and of course my British number wouldn't work. So I gave Dave's Mom's number and she got my Kohl's dollars, and will now probably be arrested herself when she goes back to the store.

Long story short, I got out of there with a new belt and t-shirts, and not in handcuffs.

I've seen lingering signs of damage from last year's hurricanes, Helene and Milton. The mobile home park where Dave's parents have wintered for years (and where Dave, his sister and I are now staying) has several units that look like this, especially along the waterfront of Sarasota Bay. There are uprooted forests of Australian pines, gigantic trees that are non-native and invasive and not really made to withstand those kinds of storms. Miraculously, Dave's parents' place escaped serious damage, though some of the landscaping seems to have been killed by salt water.

On my way back to Discovery Village from Kohl's, I took a side trip to drive through the neighborhood where my friend Cherie lived in the '90s. I used to go to her house every Thursday night to watch "Must See TV" but on this return trip I could not find it. The area has changed so much with road-widening and new construction, and of course all the trees are bigger, and I recognized nothing.

I came across this flock of ibis, which seemed perfectly untroubled by the increasing urbanization as they happily nibbled morsels off the pavement and out of the lawns.

Finally, last night, we went to dinner at the Anna Maria Oyster Bar, which is a longtime haunt of Dave's parents and right next to DV, and thus very convenient. (Even though it's next door we drove, because now they both use walkers.) I had a couple of raw oysters, coconut shrimp with cheese grits and Brussels sprouts, and key lime pie.

We were intrigued by AMOB's dedicated waitress, Pearl:

I have never in my life seen a robotic waitress. (I'm saying waitress because of the coconut-husk bikini top, which may be in dubious taste from a feminist perspective but never mind. This is Trump country.) She seemed very "Star Trek." We gave our orders to a human, and humans mostly took care of us, but Pearl did steady duty helping to deliver food. She was very skilled in steering around people and obstacles, and seemed to flawlessly navigate the layout of the restaurant. Apparently she has occasionally been known to get stuck on a rug or drop a bowl of soup, but what waitress doesn't?

I'm not sure what's on the agenda for today, aside from more time at Discovery Village. ("What are we discovering?" Dave asked. None of us are sure.)

(Top photo: A bath-house at an RV park near Dave's parents' mobile home.)