Well, we finally made it. My experience with the drive to Sarasota these last two years is that just when you think you've been driving forever and can't possibly make it any longer, you have about two hours to go.
But finally the drive is done and I sit here in front of the Daiquiri Deck with my laptop computer out. I feel like a bit of a dumb ass as I am passed by 1) 20-somethings in various degrees of undress and 2) retirees living the night life at 7:40 p.m. One guy walking by did smile at me, though. I won't tell you to which group he belonged.
If you've been reading Red Hot Mama since the very, very beginning, you might know that last year's accommodations were less than desirable, but the condo this year is just lovely. I imagine I'll have very specific nice things to say about it when I'm no longer staying there.
Anyway, for any of you who were worrying, you'll be glad to know that we made the trip safely. And the Daiquiri Deck is now seating #36. That's the family with the kid who argued with my son about whether “20” is “twenty” or “twenty-zero,” so I'm glad they're moving on so we can avoid the tension. We're #40, so I'd best wrap it up.
Tomorrow: our first game. Go Reds!