So, my husband and I are spending the winter in Florida. It's wonderful. I admit I was apprehensive about the whole idea and thought, "What if I hate it? I'm stuck there for three whole months." But now I find myself dreading the trip back home. Funny how things work out, eh?
Speaking of funny, our first weekend here we went to 3:30PM Mass (yes, that's right - 3:30 on a Saturday afternoon and it was PACKED) and I swear we were the youngest couple there by at least 20 years. When it came time for the priest to ask for prayers for the recently departed, there were a lot of audible gasps and murmurs in the congregation. (The list of names was so long, it had to have been a month's worth, right?)
Immediately after Mass, I had an uncontrollable urge for a soft dinner and, of course, a nap.
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