Eugene.

January 20, Ft Myers.

On the way back we drove to Miami Beach to see the Art Deco district, an old yearning of mine since studying American architecture in college, and then stopped to see our friend Eugene before heading home.
Eugene, from Russia, trained at a circus school and specialized as an animal tamer. Now retired from the circus he opened a circus arts school and seems to be doing well, even though business is slow these days. He is the center's owner, manager and sole teacher. A lot of my students' parents have lost their job, he said. I always work, I work every day, this is my business.
The last time we saw him Dylan was a newborn, and Nicolas not even envisioned. Time flies, he said, look at them.
Look at you, Eugene, just two years into retirement, risking, trusting, thriving in a wrecked economy.

Composition with sand, sea, and chemicals.

January 20, Ft Myers.

Composition with two chairs.

January 20, Ft Myers.

Key Largo dock.

Key West redux (and an inauguration.)

January 20, Ft. Myers.

Who needs to wander around Key West when they can drive the 100 miles from Miami only to drive straight back and end up in a motel on Route One across from the new CVS Pharmacy and have time to see the whole inauguration on TV the next morning because half the trip back home is already done?
I'd been to Key West twenty years ago and loved it. We'd planned an escapade so my mother and Fridman could see the town across from La Habana. Instead we spent the day driving, and acquiring a few more gray hairs.
My purse was there at the gas station on Key Largo where I'd left it four hours before, on the convenient little table in the restrooms, and nothing was missing - but my mind.

A world of wonders.

January 17, Ft. Myers.

There is magical place not far from where we live.
It's big and green and wild, it's smack in the middle of town, across the street from all the warehouse stores, it's a godsend, it's the Calusa Nature Center and Planetarium.
For the price of a meal you get a yearly family pass and walk several miles of trails winding around a lush wonderland of native Florida plants, you can learn about Florida flora and fauna in the natural history museum, you can see a rescued bobcat, a bald eagle and other native Floridians, you can brush up your stars at the planetarium, and even pet a snake or two if you're itching to.
I have to think of a reason not to go back every day (laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning the house are the most unfortunate competitors.)

Chineries.

December 30, Ft Myers.

Palette.

December 29, Ft Myers.

Cleaning out the freezer, a remnant of Dylan's birthday party.

The lesson.

December 28, Ft Myers.

In the shed behind the trailer I discovered the history of this house.
Written in marker on one of the shelves:

BANG
HEAD
HERE
STRESS
RELIEF
(surrounded by lines like an explosion)

Bang here when you have finally smoked enough crack,
broken enough hearts, lied your way to hell, cheated, stolen
and become such a low life that you now have
what you deserve nothing.

Eddie in jail

Neighbors telling me bits and pieces of what happened with the people living in this house, the history of the foreclosure imagined, the darkest hours, a woman doting on her home, a marriage gone sour, then nasty, somebody using drugs maybe, it was barely a year ago and now the home is ours.
In an interview published in a French newspaper my mother brought me the Franco-afghan writer Atiq Rahimi talked about his life as a refugee and now a celebrity after winning one of France's most coveted literary prizes, about his philosophy of life in the light of his journey and his countrymen's plight, running away from warfare and death only to be deported back to the certainty of the same. He cited a fable recounted in one of his books about going home to Afghanistan for the first time after the Talibans were ousted: "Once upon a time there was a king and he asked an artist to create a work that would make him happy when he was sad and sad when he was happy. The artist made a ring on which was written: 'Nothing lasts.'"

Winter light II.

December 25, Ft Myers.

Christmas and the Peruvians.

December 25, Ft Myers.

The Peruvian family (Sheyla, Alain, Friedman and don Sandro, with Pedro) arrived yesterday. That's on top of Marcos' other brother, Andres, his family, and yet another Peruvian, Carson and Barnes connection, Chachin, and his family. Christmas eve party, Peruvian version what else, was a late night dinner and waiting for midnight to open the presents. Dylan and Nicolas were up til 2 in the morning, lost in the kids and the frenzy.
Christmas day on the beach with a ceviche (more Peruvian.)

Marcos.

December 19, Ft Myers.

Handyman fabulous (only the tools are all wrong.)

Ze crew.

December 19, Ft Myers.

Winter light.

December 18, Ft Myers.

Green eyes.

December 18, Ft Myers.

The green of the ocean is in my mother's eyes.

(Forgotten) trailer with a view.

December 18, Ft Myers.

The power is on.

December 18, Ft Myers.

We finally have power, more than two weeks after we arrived. It took more phone calls than I care to remember and trying to stay calm as they yielded nothing but silence. Bureaucracy gone private makes for perfect inefficiency and a high price.
All the electric system will have to be redone, even the electric cables were vandalized from the house. Marcos is leaving tomorrow, his brother, Roosevelt, who lives here, will continue helping Fridman with what's left to be done. The house is taking shape.
I found a non-toxic paint dealer nearby and settled on colors after days of neurotically shuffling color samples. Tropical turquoise, deep red, flashing yellow, orange, lots of pure white.

Patterns.

December 18, Ft Myers.

Bedroom arrangement.

December 18, Ft Myers.

Beach tango.

December 17, Ft Myers.

More paradise.

Ft Myers Beach.

December 16, Ft Myers.

We went to the beach today, finally.
The sand was like powdered sugar.
We is the kids, my mother and I. The men are working, there is still so much to be done. We'll go to the beach together, soon.