Wandering Blogger  

   I forgot where I parked.

   It's wintertime, and I'm wandering among vehicles like a drunken sailor. We had just finished lunch in the plaza. 

   Now she's with cart, snaking through the aisles at our supermarket...several door-fronts down the way...trusting me to secure our to-go boxes in a car I can't find. 

   If only I was as tall as Darryl Strawberry, Aaron Judge or LeBron James, maybe I could see over the Hondas, Buicks, Jeeps and Ford F-150s...and a stray cat. Should I call 911? Maybe it was stolen. 

   Is anyone watching me, an obviously confused senior? 

   An alert person would use his or her key fob to wake up our sleeping Subaru.

   Here's a lesson for young people: When you are old enough to drive, do not deviate from your tried-and-true parking spots, be it a restaurant or supermarket. When you split the difference, you will be frustrated.   

   Shame. I neglected to pray. Am I a believer or not? 

   All's well that ends well. My terror lasted for less than 60 seconds, and this is Florida, after-all, far better January than July.

   I found Mrs. in time to help select the bananas. She doesn't know. 

       Jimmy