I last left you with my post about the eulogy of Sandy Bristoll. After I gave her eulogy in June, it wasn’t until September that I could say my final goodbyes to her. Sandy lived on Martha’s Vineyard, MA for a time. It was there where she felt truly at home and where she wanted her ashes to be scattered. I am the one who transported her ashes to the vineyard, which made me nervous because traveling with hyperhidrosis is a trigger in and of itself.
Things went very well at the airport. Everyone was very respectful of the urn I was carrying, and I got through security relatively unscathed. However, by the time I got to the gate, my hands had been “Smurfed” from the blue dye smearing onto my hands from the handles of the bag in which I had the urn. I flew into Boston and then jumped on a tiny puddle jumper airplane for the final leg of my trip. What a gorgeous view it was flying into Martha’s Vineyard!
Once I landed, I switched my shoes right away. If you have hyperhidrosis, sandals or flip flops don’t really work well in the airport. You’ll leave behind streak marks on the floor as you maneuver your way through the security checkpoint. Plus, who wants to walk barefoot in the airport? Sick. Sweaty feet attract much more dirt than dry feet, so I never go commando in this sense when I’m traveling. I took off my sweaty socks and tennis shoes, crammed them into my suitcase, and swapped them out for some cute silver ballet flats, which I wore with the thin little socks that are cut to the shape of the shoes. Once my feet were able to breathe, I could feel my hyperhidrosis switch move from hi to lo. I had a few minutes to myself as I waited for my ride to get there, so I took a few pictures of the quaint little airport and enjoyed the cool breeze that was welcoming me to the island.
I stayed at this cute little place owned by Lorraine Parish. She is a seamstress and sews the most beautiful clothes I’ve ever seen. In addition to her boutique, she rents two rooms on the top floor of her building. All of the bedding and upholstery she made herself, and it’s absolutely beautiful. Even the walls in the bathroom have fabric on them. Here’s a few pictures so you get the idea.
Now that I was all settled, I spent a few hours with some of Sandy’s friends who were gracious enough to welcome me and Sandy’s son, Danny, into their home for dinner. We had a lovely time, and I got to know some of the people who knew Sandy in her younger years way before I did, so it was nice to get a more rounded out picture of the woman Sandy was. The next morning Danny and I would scatter her ashes in the water next to Edgartown Lighthouse. Stay tuned for that post.