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The day after I got to Florida, I had a cold. Secretly I blamed R and his self-diagnosed "food poisoning" (because I smoked after him), but C figured I got it from the plane ("there's a lot of bugs stuck on planes..."). Oh, I guess she could be right, but still, it was a miserable cold and I wanted to blame somebody!

C and I have an interesting relationship. We love each other dearly, and we seem to be on a similar yet parallel path in this life -- and we're close in age, etc. -- but sometimes I have to take her advice with a grain of salt. Sometimes what she offers up is just the right thing I need to hear and other times I'm like "Who is this person?" (She probably feels the same way about me.) We usually get a little testy around each other if we spend too much time together, as if our interests don't mesh up and we're trying to just stay real and supportive of each other.

Then again, C was a big reason why I decided to go back to Melrose in the fall to work on august chagrin. I said something to her (really I was thinking out loud) about wanting to finish my novel and then spend a month somewhere rewriting it; and then it turned into the idea of me spending time at the Lee House to finish it. But then I was concerning myself with the fact that I won't be out of debt at least until September '09, and if I do something like that it would likely be later. C said, "Don't let debt rule your life, jdjb."

And she's right. That comment loosened up the confusion in my head and I realized that I could do this, and it wouldn't necessarily mean I would get myself deeper in debt, or even that I would stop my path toward a debt-free life.

That was on the way to Melrose from Gainesville the day I'd gotten back from Tampa.

Rewind four days to me going from Jacksonville to Gainesville. C's car became unavailable that morning. I thought maybe I wouldn't be making it to Gainesville and called A&L to tell them of my dilemma. A is a classic Jewish mother. When I told her I was going to check into buses she said, "Well, you're gonna be here in time for dinner, right?" That made me laugh.

As it turned out, I did get there in plenty of time for her to feed me, thank goodness for all concerned because we would never have heard the end of it. The shuttle bus took me from Jacksonville Airport to the University of Florida campus, where L was waiting for me. He's a cute little man, cuter now because he has a little goatee, and he was sitting in a mass of students looking as comfortable as he could be (I guess because he spent twenty-some-odd years working as a professor at UF, which was a big part of my reason for visiting A&L, so that he could take me around the campus and I could "research" where Randy Reardon spent a little less than a year of his life).

But first, we went to the house. A had had lung cancer in the past year and had to go through some painful surgery, but she looked really good. She doesn't smoke cigarettes (maybe she did when she was younger, I don't know, it didn't come up), but the cancer came from the condo they live in! They discovered this during the lung cancer scare. There was 40 times (or maybe it was 400 times) the safe level of radon gas seeping into their house from underground (radon is a radioactive gas that comes from the natural decay of uranium). The woman they bought the house from died of lung cancer. They now have a life-support system type contraption connected to their house pumping the radon out; it's down to a much lower than safe level now.

They're old cat died and they were fostering two beautiful Siamese kittens -- until recently when they adopted one of them, but they're still fostering the brother. For some weird reason, they were required to give them names that begin with C, so they're Charlotte and Claude. L doesn't like the name Claude much, and mostly called the male Rudolph. Whatever his name, he's a sweet cat who jumped up into my lap and ended up draped quite trustingly over my arm. He almost came home with me in my bag (except that Timmy would not like him, to be sure, and except that A signed a paper saying she would and wouldn't do this and that...)

We ate homemade bean burgers that night, and then a young man (26, I think he is) from their UU fellowship came over for dessert. A had told me earlier that he was gay and hot, and he was definitely cute. He's from Iowa and I was mesmerized by his accent, which seemed most prominently to pronounce the Ts in words. A had loaned him their copy of the documentary of my former life (thinking he and the Interweave group, a gay UU group) would put it in their upcoming film series. She put us both on the spot, which was a bit embarrassing.

I can't remember his name now. He's a piano teacher, that was why he couldn't be there for dinner, and why dessert had to be served after nine. A made a lemon ice box pie (yum), but the gay boy jumped at the secondary offer of brownies. "Well, I love chocolate, so if I could have both, that would be great."

He seemed a little nervous -- perhaps because he had seen the very intense drama of my life -- and he chattered away, so much so that when he went to the bathroom A&L both apologized profusely for him, saying they had no idea he was such a chatterbox. I didn't care; I didn't want to hold the conversation (I was sick and tired), and like I said, his accent fascinated me.

They talked him into playing a little on the piano, which he did for about thirty minutes, showing us mostly the exercises he does to start each day, scales done at breakneck speed. He is very good, but eventually L put his hands on both of the boy's shoulders and said gently, "Okay, we've had enough!" It was an awkward moment, but interesting to watch, to be sure.

The next day, after banana pancakes which L made, we had our scheduled visit to the UF campus. A proudly announced that she had scored us lunch, which turned out to mean that, because she is involved in real estate (semi-retired now), we "got to" go to a real estate office and try to be sold a near-campus condominium with the lure of turkey wraps, chips and salsa, spinach and artichoke dip, etc. I was still full from breakfast, and my stomach was a little unsettled because I was sick and because A had asked me to say that I was indeed looking to buy a condo. Jeez! It wasn't as simple as that. A couple different agents hovered over us when we were walking around looking at the model plans and when we were sitting in the model kitchen eating, asking me point-blank questions about my plans. When I said I was from Austin, the woman almost shit herself: "Why would you want to move from Austin to Gainesville?!" I didn't know. "A change of scenery, I guess," was the best I could come up with.

L and I walked around the campus -- into Broward Hall where Randy lived when he was at UF, around some of the outdoor art that would've been there when he was there, past some of the buildings he would likely have been spending a lot of time in his freshman year -- while A sat in the car reading my august chagrin outline. During my visit, I read three chapters to A&L, which they loved.

Early in the visit, I had made a comment that the way A&L were fumbling around the kitchen was akin to a couple of stoners. A said, "I wish." I laughed. She said, "Do you have some?" I felt myself turn bright red (C had given me a bud to perhaps smoke with R in Tampa, or for whatever). I mumbled some sort of noncommittal reply. A said, "Seriously, do you have some?" I said, "C gave me some for my travels." (I don't know why I was lying, or coloring the truth so much; likely it was some sort of ageist thing.) I told her I didn't have anything to smoke it with (another outright lie; I had papers) and said if she had a potato or an apple I could make a pipe. L seemed completely oblivious to all of this drug talk.

So, when we stopped for gas at a convenience store the next day, I went in and bought (more) papers and held them up to A outside saying, "If you were serious." She said, "Oh, I definitely am."

But it got late that night; they were on the phone with their friend talking about UU stuff and I was about ready to go to bed (because I was feeling about as bad as I had so far that week). L was in the upstairs office lying on the floor talking on one phone while A was downstairs in the kitchen/breakfast room on another. I had rolled the bud into a tight little joint but was ready to blow off the idea. I went into the kitchen to say goodnight, but A put her hand over the phone and said, "If you wanna do that thing, I'll be off in a minute." I said "Okay." (Even though I was sick and tired, it seemed too good an opportunity to pass up, getting high with this old hippie chick.) She asked me to roll her a joint of her own so she wouldn't catch my cold, and I simply cut the joint I'd rolled in half.

We took a couple hits each, and while we were doing it, L came into the room, and I felt busted all over again. She offered him a hit and he declined and said, "A, I'm not sure if that's such a good idea, with your lung cancer." She agreed and put it out. But it was strong pot and we were high and got into some very entertaining conversation for the next hour or so. L seemed to have gotten a contact high (or maybe a second-hand smoke high). It was a lot of fun.

The next day, I helped A set up the dining room table for a dinner party they were throwing that night. She kept commenting on how impressed she was with my initiative; "I'm not used to that." L is kind of scattered and, according to her, has to be told every little thing to do. Oh, couples!

L had a rehearsal for a UU band he's in (playing harmonica and accordion) that morning; the group also includes a woman who has MS and has to tote a oxygen tank around with her. There are a couple of others in the group, also very interesting types; good ole Unitarians. I tentatively planned to go to rehearsal with him, but slept in (because I was sick). At a quarter to noon, A tracked L down to tell him I needed to be at the airport by noon to pick up my rental car. He was on his way.

The Gainesville airport is a regional airport, very rinky-dinky. The computers were down at the rental car place so everything had to be done by hand, and of the two men working the booth, one of them was being trained. It was definitely a practice in patience. I didn't mind having to slow down; I was on my way to see R and I was a bit nervous about that. I was given a glittery silver-blue PT Cruiser for the journey and felt pretty stylin'.