Wednesday, December 5, 2012

The Sky Is Beautiful...It's Not Falling

"Your time is limited, don't waste it living someone else's life.  Don't be trapped by dogma, which is living the result of other people's thinking.  Don't let the noise of others opinions drown out your inner voice.  And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition, they somehow already know what you truly want to become.  Everything else is secondary" - Steve Jobs

We witnessed some of the worst white people dancing ever a few weeks back at a Corey Smith & Travis Tritt concert.  It was almost hidden camera looking for reaction bad.  Its a widely known fact that if you can't dance, you can't fuck.  Based on that statement, neither one of them were worth a damn in the sack. I pointed out that this dude probably would be the flip someone around every possible way bad porn style.  45 positions later no one has gotten a nut. Now I for one don't dance...its not a lack of ability so much as it is choice and not for nothing in my lifestyle dancing opportunities just don't really present themselves.

Speaking of porn...Velcro has a neighbor that over the summer that had porn streaming non-stop on the bedroom tv.  We know this because we could sit on the balcony with a drink in hand and watch it.  The part that didn't make so much sense is that he would be in the living room with his feet up on the coffee table. Some how you may have become desensitized to the porn if gets less attention than the average infomercial.  There's no telling how many people in the building were ganking this dude's porn(which in my made up word world means stealing) but I'm thinking about 3 floors worth had a bird's eye view of butt sex. 

Over the past month or so I've lost all of my stability neighbors. Its strange how you draw comfort from people that you only know by first name.   I don't guess I've ever stayed anywhere long enough to out last any neighbors...I was normally the one peacing out.  The guy next door to me spent about a day moving his stuff to storage, I'd talked to him and found out that he was moving to Ohio to find work.  You have hit rock bottom when that's the best option you have.  He told me he had lost his condo.  I saw him drive away about 9:30 the next morning and around 10 the sheriffs dept was drilling out the locks with papers in hand.  I didn't know that's how those things happened.  It was a weird feeling...there was an understanding of where everyone parked.  Now I've taken over his spot. A few days later my buddy that I shared motorcycle storage with moved...then another old soul that I'd just met left about a week after that.  I wonder if it made neighbors feel weird when they saw me shelpping my stuff into my car and pulling away one last time with my dog in tow or if it took them the better part of a month to realize I was gone.   It makes me question the impact that I've had on people.  I want to ask "Are you better for having known me?"  I'm not so sure that I'd really like to hear the initial knee jerk answers from some and would maybe be disappointed that others don't remember me at all. It makes me hope that maybe the ones that got to know me see the world a little bit differently because of my quirkiness. 

The last few days here have been more like spring than winter.  I've been able to spend my morning walk on the beach with my best little buddy.  I get so much more thinking done there than any where else...except maybe on the motorcycle.  The beach though is a very visual place.  I take a ton of pictures everyday, and looking back on them you can't tell one day from another.  On the bike its different,  I'm more tuned into smells and feel of the bike.  There is so much you miss by being in a car. I always get a song stuck in my head and it plays over and over while I ride.  The vibration of the foot pegs and handlebar is hypnotic to the point that I could go to sleep.  Sunday what stood out was the smell of time it smelled just like kindling and later we passed a lumber yard that had the new green lumber smell.  If you would have asked me before that day to tell you all the smells I love wood and leather wouldn't have been on the list, but they are now.  Truth is you smell a lot of road kill too, but I tend to be more of a glass half full person.

I went outside of my norm for this election and actually registered to vote.  Somewhere in my late 20's or early 30's I was in the DMV and the lady said, "I see you are registered unaffiliated, would you like to register with a party?"  I looked at her for a few seconds and replied " You know, I want to unregister all together."  She told me I couldn't which only made me want to more.  Before I left there that day I was officially without a voice politically speaking.  I wanted no ties to any organization or group.  You have no idea how difficult it is to get your name removed from a church membership...but I got it done.  So after many years of stubbornness I decided (with some encouragement) that this was an election that needed my input.  The day of the election I put off going until mid afternoon anticipating missing the crowds.  I had a big feeling of dread...I felt like the hippie that decided to cut his hair, sell the van, get a real job and give up pot.  That somehow I had been broken.  When I got over to the school where I was supposed to vote the parking lot was full of what appeared to be white people cars.  So I said "fuck it...they got this" and went on to happy hour.  I'm sure that had South Carolina gone the wrong way by less than 100 votes I would have caught almighty hell from the boys. It seems though old men everywhere have 4 more years to bitch and moan... I wonder if old men would still be as grumpy if we didn't have 500 news channels slinging doom and gloom at us 24/7.  I haven't been able to pin point an exact age when suddenly obsessing about that shit becomes mandatory.   Amazingly, the next morning, the sun still came up and the tides are still coming and going and life carries on.   And I'm still just as happy as a girl can be.

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Lost a Few Months There..

So, if you have been wondering where Eddie Murphy has been...I found him.  In the Turks & Caicos.  Bartending...and faking an accent.  And sporting a top notch Tom Selleck porn star mustache...but on a black man.  It kinda reminded me of the whole "Coming to America" thing without the afro sheen and Arsenio Hall.  Actually, we had several celebrity sightings...Kevin Costner, the dude from Rascal Flatts, Kenny Chesney.  Or more likely just too many drinks from Eddie Murphy coupled with some near sightedness...a gay looking dude with bleached spikey hair and some looser with a shell necklace on...and Kevin Costner.  This place was amazingly beautiful, to the point that no picture I took could quite capture it.  I'd never been somewhere like that.  The real beauty was that about 80% of the people at the resort spoke french.  You couldn't over hear every stupid word out of their mouth like the average day on the beach here and there was no interaction required. Love it.  There was only one day that we lost the cold war with the frozen white russians.  The best we can piece together is that around 4:30 we staggered back to the room, showered (we only know because we woke up clean) and passed out. Oh, and I meant 4:30pm...we woke up in time for dinner. That somehow reminds me of the most memorable exclamation of the week. "WATCH MY NUTS!!!"  I'm not sure if it happened on that same day but there was drinking involved.  One must understand my fascination/curiosity with nuts to fully appreciate the Velcro COMPLETELY freaking out when he thought I was getting too close to the jewels. I am fully aware of where they are and that one must give wide berth to the nuttal zip code.  I have mentioned many times that if mine were visible they would be much like goat one believes me.  Anyway that brought on a whole 'nother conversation about wienies being attached to the backbone via wienie tendon or which the Velcro was unaware.  I had to confer with Coon Dick after vacation...his response to follow at a later date.  But suffice to say I was correct.
What I have realized is that through the power of the internet the world is wide open for kids (20 some year olds) to move anywhere in the world they can imagine and live for free and work fun jobs in paradise.  There's a pretty big part of me that's pissed off that I was born too many years too early for the technology of filling out an online application and moving to the islands.  For as long back as I can remember all I've wanted to do is run away to the islands.  Alot of these kids where from Cananda, some from Maylasia, a chick my age from Colorado.  It makes me want to grab every 22 year old in sight and shake them violently.  There's no need for this whole marriage and procreation bullshit...get out there and LIVE, travel and see all the beautiful stuff before you get so jaded that you don't recognize amazing.  All that breeding and family stuff will be there waiting for you one've got time.

I know where October ran away from me with bike week and islands and Zac Brown weekends....but I really can't speak for September. I've got to get back on top of the whole documentation thing because without being able to reread what I've been doing  I tend to loose some stuff.   On the subject of Zac Brown...we got tickets to the whole weekend of the South Ground Music Festival this year.  Saturday was a bit overwhelming with the amount of people there to contend with. (Note, I just mentioned how having a pile of non-English speaking people around to not intermingle with is relaxing to me and we had only been home for about 2 days.) The madness however was worth it when Darius Rucker walked out on stage and sang Wagon me.  I can't remember how long ago that Wagon Wheel became my "request" song when it came to bar music.  It surprises you the people who know it and give you a kick ass version. The Nanner actually briefly dated one that would play it for me (very briefly).  We called him Wagon Wheel...I'm sure I never actually knew his name...turns out it was one of the more polite names we ever gave any of the men folks. I've also had a Darius/Hooty hangup every since I was in Gainesville one weekend back when I was in my early 20's and they were playing the college circuit. I missed them because some guys that were on the dive trip with me needed some vagasil and wouldn't stand in line to see band with a funky name.  It was only a matter of months later that Cracked Rearview came out and they were a hit.  To make it up to me the next time the same bar had a funky named band and a line they all clammed up and stood in it.  It was the Big White Undies...they never made it but I have their cd to this day. (You have no idea how amazing that is considering the number of times I've moved and the amount of shit I've lost.)  So you can see how this random combination made me all giddy.

Thought I would give you a little visual reference to the trip...sorry none from the Zac Hooty thing...didn't take my phone in, but still managed to loose it and proceed to freaking the F out because I'd lost all my vacation pictures.  This one is from the Sharky's beach bar.
This was the local beer...found a dive within walking distance called Jimmy's Dive Bar.  We quickly realized that our damage needed to be done to the tune of all inclusive.  Just for point of reference we found an IGA and the Michelob Ultra was $16 a six pack.  It may be the only way that I could every imagine sobriety. 
Yes, this is really what the water looks like.  There was a tropical storm off shore a few days and we saw a full grown man standing ankle deep when a wave crashed over his head and put him face first.  It was great.  Then we went back to the pool.
Me in a tree.  If you know me then there are really no no questions to ask.

And just in case you want to know what happy looks like....yep, that's it.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

The Answers To All The Questions You're Too Afraid To Ask

"The trite objects of human efforts - possessions, outward success, luxury...have always seemed contemptible to me."  Albert Einstein

From the uninformed outside looking in, I'm sure I appear to be the laziest of all online writers.  If we are judging based solely on my writing output, I guess you would be right.  Lots of big changes have gone on and are still going on.  If I were a tomato plant, I would be growing in one of those "as seen on TV" topsy turvey planters.  I've given up the stablity of my job of almost 3 years (funny how I have gotten geared to thinking of a $2.13/hour bartending gig in a tourist town as stability) to pursue a for real career (gasp).  Since there is never just one step to any journey worth taking, most of my time lately has been spent waiting tables and getting the new digs going....hence the lack of writing. With that said, I have a smelly pile of badly sorted laundry ideas that all want to get into the washing machine of words at the same time.  And although I know I run the risk of turning tighty whities pink, I'm going to put everything into one blog.

Over the course of the past few months I have put Coon Dick to very good use, not to mention the fact that it has given my Velcro a much MUCH needed break from being my only go to guy for all my crazy ass questions.  Even when he suspects that he knows the answer right off, he still does several days of research before sending my answers documented via email. In case any of you have a wondering or wandering mind like my own, I've decided to pass along his answers so you won't have to go seeking this knowledge on your own. 

The first question I had for him required a visual that I can not supply to you, but coupled with the question "Why do I have blonde cock hair on my big toe?"  "And why can my little tiny 5lb 100 year old cat poop a terd that I would be proud of?"  I got the head shake that I have become so accustomed to, whether it be from him or Velcro and he said he would get back to me.  This arrived a few days later.

Problem 1 This is a problem(?) experienced by all fair skinned males and rare occasion on fair skinned females. The cause with respect to females is too many male genes. Now at first glance at the toe of our subject, we would certainly not think she had extra male genes due to the beautiful curves of her body, but looking deeply into her mind she shows signs of somewhat being a "Tomboy".

Problem 2 Cat Poop should be "deep brown" in color and "well formed"--not too hard and not too soft and mushy. Normal cat poop should not smell too foul.

Lowering the size of your cats poop----CD suggest more oral intake of "canned pumpkin".. This should produce two poops a day instead of one large poop. I wish I could take credit for this "Gem" of knowledge, but the credit goes to two of my students (Both alcoholics in Marion County) the honorable "Duke" and "Highpockets". Both of these gentlemen being in the "Cat" business for numerous years...CD.

I immediately went to the Food Lion and bought a can of canned pumpkin for the cat, unfortunately she's about as big of a fan of Thanksgiving as I am and only ate a little before letting me know it didn't suit her palate.  The next thing I came up with for him was the relative buoyancy of nuts...its strange the things that fascinate me.  Would they be positive, negative or neutrally buoyant?  And I also sent him yet another picture of a tree that I'd never seen before.

The first thing that comes to mind with respect to testicles is "age". We all know that a young baby boy has very small "tight" nuts, and can instantly get an erection with very little stimulation. Now you drop a small baby boy in the deep end of a swimming pool and he will go straight to the bottom upon hitting the water, but he will immediately come back to the top with the utilization of his arms working in a paddling motion. (Learned this procedure from "Nina" (my mother)(another alcoholic) who taught my first son how to swim at 6 months. Thank god she passed away before my second son was born).. Now if my son had nuts as big as my next door neighbor "Johnny Carson" (93 years of age, and nuts as big as my head that hang out the bottom of his shorts when sitting) he would have floated back up to the top without using his arms. Johnny advises me that the older you get the bigger your nuts get with "Hot Air" which creates the flotation device, which is great for old men when drowning. Johnny also advises he hasn't had an erection in 30 years and only uses his wife for dipping his finger in "to wet it" so as to "turn pages" when reading. With that said, if you are beginning to see testicles beginning to float in the "bath tub" I would deduce this to be a sign of the ageing process, and would definitely keep myself covered when he is reading a book.

Part 2: My astute constituents advise the following: (pls don't send me anymore bushes or trees unless an emergency situation as my followers drive me up the wall)

Golden Berries, also known as Incan berries, are indigenous to South America, and are often referred to as the goji berry of the region. They contain a remarkable amount of protein (16% - more than whole wheat!), as well as vitamins A and C to help boost your immune system. Sunfood raw Incan Berries are sweet, tangy, and have been gently dried at low temperatures so that they have a consistency similar to raisins. They are rich with bioflavonoids, also known as vitamin P, which have anti-carcinogenic, anti-inflammatory, antihistamine, antioxidant properties, and more! These wonderful morsels contain pectin, which helps to regulate the process of digestion, and aids in lowering blood cholesterol and glucose levels. Add them to your trail mix, your cereal, or use them to garnish your favorite dessert!

But he followed that up with "only when they are ripe, otherwise can be very poisonous".  After I send him several more pictures to determine if I have some ripe enough not to kill me, he goes the back door to Velcro and tells him to take them away from me and throw them away.  Conspirators...sigh.  You can also see that he has hex voodooed me from asking anymore tree questions.

One night we are at happy hour at our favorite Sushi bar/drinking place and I suddenly needed to know something.  These are our back and forth texts.

Me: Have a question...
CD: Yes mam?
Me: Ok...I know butt cracks come in different heights and lengths...but are the cornholes in the same place on everyone?
CD: Assuming this question was somewhat prompted by the game outside, but being from ole school the answer is yes with the exception of when you are eating "silver queen"  That is done orally I hope you know.
Me:So you're saying that inches from back to front are the same on all people?
CD: No....cornhole is in the same place
Me: So could you do some research about butthole placement?  That's more of what I had in mind.

After a few minutes, obviously used for research.
CD: Cornhole is 2 inches from the vagina which is what we call "taint meat"  Technical term we use.
Me: Does this measurement apply to men as well?  You are aware more than likely there will be a tape measure double check done.
CD: Absolutely!  Ck from his cornhole to his scrotum sack when hanging down
Me: Welp I'll be getting back to you with some research under my belt
CD: I'm interested in your measurements.  Be good for documentation.  Pls follow up.

I'll give you one guess if I was allowed to get anywhere near all of that with a tape measure...nope.  I decided more alcohol intake is probably needed for my test subject. 

Next question:  If you bake and filet a human...would the arms and chest be white meat and the thighs and legs be dark meat?  Not to go into researching blindly he asked me if I was referring to white people or which I began to question my question and then wanted to know either and if they would be different from each other.

Have had extensive conversations today with "CM" out in Nashville and will now try to "boil" this down as simply as possible, as it varies with each individual and "race".

The Black race you will find have more "dark meat" due to the fact their life style through-out history has been more "laborious" due to their living in the jungle and having been through slavery etc. This life style has given them more muscle hence the dark meat and it makes them better "basketball players".

The white race having lived a less laborious life style will have "dark meat" in their muscle, but more white meat where there is no muscle.

"CM" put it quite simply..... when you dissect a "chicken" the Breast does no work hence no muscle hence "white meat". The legs work all the time hence "muscle" hence "dark meat".

Now "age", & "obesity" can play a part in the variance of the above....Hope these "caveats" will help with your problems on this subject.  Kindest Regards, CD

You can now see why Velcro thinks of this man as a super hero...saving all of mankind (or at least him) from me and my busy wayward mind.  He definitely needs a cape.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Tattoos and Toe Nail Polish

"Hell, I am young.  I am free.  My teeth are clean.  The sun shines.  To hell with everything else." - Stephen Fry

As the title indicates, my toe nails are painted...a very bright pink.  It makes me feel girly and yet somewhat conflicted, which lead to my question "Do tattoos and toe nail polish go together?"  Everyone knows I'm a dog vs. a cat person and that I've always been a tattoo vs. a polish girl.  I'm told that I'm very black and white with few to no shades of grey.  Guess I'm digging my new shade of grey that has materialized itself more as a shade of pink.  Just for those keeping up with my budget, I did not go to the chinese nail salon and dip into my vodka fund, nor did I paint them myself.  Velcro is in charge of the toes.

I'm afraid that I am going to be asked to pay Coon Dick a retainer.  This week so far I've put him on a shark bladder mission and I just text him pictures of some weird tree that I need to know about.  The shark bladder research he did came up with two things.  First they do not have a waste system like us and the answer would be NO, they do not pee pee.  It seems some animals have swim bladders, kind of a kin to buoyancy control, but the shark is not one of them either.  They have oil in their large livers that is lighter than water and that's what makes them not plow the bottom.  My guess is that nurse sharks don't have so much of the oily liver since they lay around on the bottom all the time.  I'm also thinking that the reason sharks have large livers is because they live near the coast and everyone knows that if you are within 5 miles of the coast all you do is drink...wonder if humans will adapt this same survival method?  In attempt to get all my shark facts straight Coon Dick just revealed that sharks also don't poop.  I think I need one for a pet.

Care to guess what this is?  One may say, well Sparky, that there looks like a towel with a Target bag wadded up on top of it.   And one might be partially correct.  But in fact this is a homemade "Make the cat shut the fuck up so I can sleep at night" contraption.  She has been sleeping on a bag I left at the bottom of the stairs, the other day I picked it up in an attempt of cleaning and pretending to be an adult.  That night she woke me up yelling about every 30 minutes.  So I gave her the bag back.  Only to get yelled at on a less frequent schedule.  Last night I threw in the towel...literally and put in some ear plugs.  Happy to report she allowed me to sleep through the night. 

My living room is empty.  Amazingly this time it's not because I'm moving but because I have succumbed to the fact that animals are carpet don't mix well.  I'm having tile put down and in preparation I have emptied the room.  Now, I've said before that my living room is the only room in my house that looks like an actual grown up may live here.  Yesterday I called Velcro to ask if it was weird that I like the room better completely striped down.  His answer was the same as most people just worded more politely, instead of "Um...yea"  he said "Could be".  He knows me and I doubt this surprised him or much of anything else out of me for that matter.  I'm seriously considering not putting the stuff back in there.  Although, I'm not sure what to do with my coffee table.  Update to follow.
Found all these guys hanging out in one tidal pool. I've never seen one like the big guy at the top.  Of all the crazy random questions that I have, all of them are centered around earthy naturey stuff or bodily functions.  It may have been said before that I am like a four year old with a vodka habit and 12 year old boy's sense of humor.  But with boobs...and painted toe nails.

Folks, I'm telling you
birthing is hard
and dying is mean
so get yourself some
loving in between
- Langston Hughes

On a similar note "All I want to do is have sex and throw a cast net."
- Wingman

Friday, June 1, 2012

So Much To Say

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do.  So throw off the bow lines, sail away from safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover." -Mark Twain

As much as I have reasons (see-excuses) for not writing, I get to a point where I feel my head is going to explode if I don't get something out and on paper.  I reached that point several weeks ago.  Not only does it wear me out to have all these thoughts running wild like rabid horny poodles it also takes down Velcro in the form of 500 crazy ass questions a day and a hyperness that I have little control over.  There really is no good place to start.  I turned a year older and I'm sure there was some insightful shit about where I am and where I was and will be but the moment is passed and I forget now.  The main thing I learned on my birthday was from the Wingman.  "If you're not farting, your not healthy.  At 50 you need to be farting 28-30 times a day."  So I had to inquire about my needed fart stats to insure my health at 39.  "15-18.  And if you aren't farting when you have sex...then you will be."  Awesome.  There's me something to look forward to.  Flatulence was quite the topic of conversation that evening.  It seems that cows farting in the atmosphere has something to do with the global warming issue.  I'm thinking that if they sneak into the closet to fart it wont really help the situation either.  Note polar ain't looking good for you, you're gonna need to adapt...retire, get some golf clubs and come on down and complain about how you just can't get good seal pizza...or bagels.

I am excited to announce that  I have a new source of non-traditional knowledge...we'll call him Coon Dick.  I actually had another name picked out but he came up with this one and it was so fitting. I had only been around him a time or two before I realized he's my new go to guy for questions about raccoon wienies and cow pee and such. As a matter of fact, the first time we met raccoons and their manhood was topic of conversation.  I'm sure he's just f-ing thrilled about all this.  The good part for Velcro is that he can now say..."I don't know, ask Coon Dick when you see him".  You can imagine the look on his face when I call him over at happy hour to ask why when you're cold do your nipples stick out but your wienie shrinks?  Btw, I had asked Velcro to pass my question along if he saw him before I did....he politely refused. (?) After the look of shock wore off he told me he would do some thinking and get back to me.  Sure enough he shows up a few days later with my answer and a mail brochure for a Erec-Tech Pos-T-Vac penis pump.  Who knew Medicare covered these things?  Which leads me to my other absolute genius idea.  If every one in the world would get simultaneously laid on the same day, can you imagine how great tomorrow would be?  Going without is not something people wear very well.  I see on a daily basis many, many people that just need to get laid.  Since I've touched on raccoon wienies and shrinking wienies, no better time to cover this subject too. 
This is a cooter.  This is why my hoo-hah does not like to be called a cooter.  Cooters are mean fucking turtles that are not scared of you and will hurt you.  Although that may partially be true of the hoo-hah, it does not look like a cooter.  Or a snapper.  Or a beaver...although that one is marginally acceptable.  Have you ever given much thought to all the animal connotations associated with the female junk?  Think about it.  Outside of the pink taco I'm pretty sure all others can be seen on an episode of wild kingdom. 

Since I wrote last I've procured a bath pillow, rode bitch (once), ate brussel sprouts in bed, took a zillion pictures of weird stuff on the beach, rode for bike week and got goosebumps from watching a flash mob on an episode of Weeds. Which led to flash mob stalking on you tube. (Just a tip of the iceberg) If you've never seen a flash mob you must google it.  I've never seen one in person...I think the odds of one busting out on the beach or anywhere I frequent are slim to none.  Some are much better than others but all of them amaze me.

These are some of the weird things that keep my little mind full of questions.  By the way, do you think that the ocean is deeper at low tide or is it just high tide somewhere else?  And if it is...where?

This is the Point that I talk about so much.
Every morning I save my first sip of coffee until my feet hit the sand.  Roger dogs mileage count on the year is officially at 203.  Pretty good for an old guy.  203 miles of sanity for his mom too.   

"Great minds discuss ideas.  Average minds discuss events.  Small minds discuss people." - Elenor Roosevelt

Friday, March 23, 2012

Four Trips Around the Sun

"You don't have a soul.  You are a soul.  You have a body." unknown

Four trips around the sun...1461 spins of this gravity restricted rock we are riding on...or 126,144,000 seconds.  That's what I and anyone reading have had, to do absolutely anything that we want, that my Daddy didn't.  He wasn't the shell of human suit that shriveled gape mouthed in that Hospice bed.  He wasn't the confused and muscle spasmed person that his disease made him look like.  He was charismatic and magnetic.  He had the way about him that made everyone that came near him love him.  He was goofy and random and boingy.  He would two hand hold your elbow and put his forehead on your shoulder laughing.  He would pick up and hug and play with every baby in sight. He would do Tim the tool man impersonations at the most unpredictable times.  He would put a leaf in dirt and make a tree.  He touched peoples lives like most of us only wish we could. 

I found this picture of me and my Pop from a long time ago.  Daddy is in the background being his classic normal self....(you have to forgive my 1989 hair)
My world is a much different place than it was four years ago...almost unrecognizable.  Whether he knows it or not, he taught me to laugh at whatever you find for stuffed animals if you want to.  And most of all Carpe Diem, Seize the is after all, all we really have.

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Rule Breaker

"Dwell comfortably in the midst of profound uncertainty." -John Keats

Horrible...that's how I've done at the photo of the day challenge.  I fell off the wagon somewhere around day 4-ish.  Not that I won't write down the list for March with grand intentions...and proceed to probably suck at it too.  Whatever, I'm not disappointed in myself.  It did make me start looking at the world through a photographer's eye again and I've taken pictures almost everyday...though when I pan through them they have a common theme of fur or sand...again, whatever.  It's my tiny world and you my friend are visiting. 
This was day four- Stranger

Day 10 - Button. 
This was as close to a button as I saw that day.  I have no idea what these things are but they were all over the beach for a few days.  There were little dirty sleeve things that looked like used condoms all over the place too...I think these things came out of them.  If you could get past the look of ocean's used prophylactics they were a pretty neat find.  And yes I did pick one know anyone who watches a bird yak then pokes said yak to see what was in it, would have to.  They felt like a dried out lei, not that I've ever felt a lei, dried out or not. 
The one and only thing that I've ever missed about Greensboro was all the parks and places to get outside in the woods.  Welp, who knew that what I was missing has been sitting literally in my backyard for nine months. It just took a little wandering around and ignoring some no trespassing signs to find it. Me and the dog have turned a debunked golf course into our own little Hanging Rock.  All of it is not this pretty but parts of it are.

I guess this is the first "good" winter since I've moved to the beach, we rode motorcycles in January and  a couple times this month.  Daffodils in February just confuse me though.  And before any smart ass even tries...I am aware this is not a daffodil.

Now this one has a story behind it that I would loove to hear.  Everyone knows that I will talk about the sacrificial sock but if you did have to do the undie sacrifice why remove the waistband? What possibly could have caused this??The worlds worst wedgy?? Put out or get out gone awry?? (no I did not touch it)

I was trying to get the very uncooperative dog to let me take a picture...I kept getting the back of his head or part of his butt as he would suddenly get up and walk away. I finally pulled out the big guns and said "biscuit?" And this is what we got.... 

I read this morning that humans have two basic orientations, having or being.  The havings are people who must have things and can't let go of the material side of life.  The being people hold more weight in the experiences of living.  I'm a being.  It only takes one look around my sparsely populated home to see that.  There is only one room in the house that looks like an actual adult lives here.  I love finding these little tid bits on human behavior...especially when they lend credit to my oddities.  For whatever reason it makes me feel better. 

Funny how life works out, just when you think you know all the cards on the table one gets flipped over that you never saw coming.  And just like there's a fork in the road and a whole new world opens up.  There's something to be said for having that someone to hold your hand for all that stuff just slightly beyond the horizon. 

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Playing Along

So from some of the blogs I read I've found all the bloggy types are doing this Photo of the Day Challenge.  There's a list of daily ideas to I guess inspire me to take pictures of something other than my dog.  I'm sure there are unwritten rules about only one picture a day or to actually take pictures of whats on the list but I've never been much on rules and I don't intend to start conforming now. 

Day 1 - View of today.  I had several that I took yesterday without knowing about this so here are a few. (notice the already breaking of the rules)
These were both taken at the very end of Cherry Grove Beach called the point, with coffee in hand and Roger dog on leash. 

Took this one while I sat on the bike waiting to meet up Velcro for our ride to lunch.   
Day 2 - Words
This is a shot of my journal...and my scribblings that haven't turned into anything fit for others to read...yet.

Monday, January 30, 2012

Velcro & Sparky Go South

"The first step to getting where you want to be is to decide that you are not going to stay where you are." J. Piermont Morgan

10:15 am and South bound in a rented minivan with a bumpy rear tire, the warm weather already causing us to shed the layers the morning cold had at home had required. We managed to not miss the turnpike exit this round and in no time were having grilled hog fish and the guaranteed coldest beer in Key Largo.  You could almost hear the sigh of relief from the islands that we had gotten there.  Important things first, we found a liquor store, a Styrofoam cooler,  a bottle opener and our temporary home at the Breezy Palms.  An old original Keys resort painted coral and set on the ocean side of the island with lounge chairs scattered around below the palms.  I pointed and said "Pretty", my one word sentence that would be repeated no less than a 1000 times over, always accompanied by the point. Docks and boat slips fronted the ocean and black ducks and pelican pooped from the pylons causing more than a few questions from me.  We sat in the sun with our tiny drinks and our white legs watching horny iguanas chest bump and chase in hopes of winning the affection of one large, very uninterested looking girl lizard.  Speaking of girl, I kept my feet up and out of the way since the big 4 foot orange guy clearly was not intimidated by anything.  I found no need to try to prove myself by possibly having to wrestle something that had managed to last from prehistoric times.  This humored Velcro.  Unlike the last trip when we skidded sideways into the parking lot as the sun dropped out of site, we made it to Loreli in plenty of time to see the sunset. We listened to the dread locked sax player (who should have no trouble getting laid) play as the sun went down.
The following morning, surprised by the creamer selection, we took our coffee down by the water and watched the birds poop some more.  While we laid in the sun finally shedding our look of pale tourists I saw the first real smile of vacation on his face.  That day $6 paid for our entire day of food consumption, cheeseburgers and fries on the deck at Loreli.  After almost a year of waiting to see the Barstool Sailor we got our chance. He was playing outback at the Outback.  With the Atlantic and night sky behind him he sang us the best version of Wagon Wheel that we've heard and had some random knowledge of the writing of it that escapes me now.  He didn't look exactly as we had pictured but was exactly the laid back groovy island singer we anticipated.
Richer by bigger coffee cups and key lime whipped vodka we faced another day of the island.  The Wingman and his girl joined us and we had beer and grouper sandwiches on the back deck at the old Holiday Isle. So warm that beers had to be shared to keep them cold.  Wingman took quite a liking to the key lime vodka and soon true to form was making friends by the pool with Larry from somewhere in Oregon.  He had just lost the mayoral race in some rainy northwestern town and was looking for the same yet different escape that we were.  As much as I would have loved to have done a repeat of the full moon party, it wasn't in the cards.  Velcro's Key West Capt buddy and his crazy cool  Missouri transplant chick met us at Morada Bay.  Barstool Sailor sang in the background as Wingman demonstrated how to knee walk drunk while proclaiming horniness to the horror of his girl and the entertainment to the rest of us.

In the morning we packed up, clothes already not fitting back in the suitcase, we were taking on the look of traveling drinking gypsies...not a bad thing to be.  A GPS guided tour through Stock Island's finest trailer park landed us at one of our coolest finds of all time.  Hogfish Bar is all open air and rustic, sitting on the edge of the marina.  It's a fend for yourself park on the side of the road kind of place.  Their logo is "A great place if  you can find it".  We shared a cuban mix sandwich that was  the size of my head even after being cut in half.  There was an old autographed Buffett album framed on the wall, matted in with it was a poem written by a guy gone by several years.  I can't remember it all but it talked about having a group of close friends growing up and how the changes of life take people down different paths and away from each other.  The last of it though said "In the end there were just two.  It was good to have a friend."

While wandering the streets of Key West in search of more limes and a Florida avocado for me, we came across a cool little book store with local authored books and books with drag queen before and afters. I'm now reading Life Lessons of a Legend, about Capt. Tony.  Happy hour at Conch Republic with buy one get one drinks led us to a sketchedly remembered night of about 4000 drinks, some nachos that quite possibly saved our lives...mojitos at Louie's Back Yard ( that's not owned by Louie anymore), miles of staggering, a mop shop and a tumble and head grab but not down the stairs of the Garden of Eden...small miracles.  Just that little bit took time and collaboration to piece back together.  The next morning we did granola at Pepe's and the sun and not much else.  Lobster BLT with fried green tomatoes was lunch from our second trip to Hogfish.  No GPS required to get to the now probably favorite southernmost dive.  

Sunset celebration at Mallory Square has changed a lot.  All of the street people with trained alley cats jumping through flaming rings are gone and have been replaced by 20 some year old knife throwers and the sort.  Makes you wonder if they died out or were ran off in hopes of making the cruise ship tourists feel more safe.  I miss the sketchiness of it, the doing what has to be done to get by.  We left the crowd at Mallory square and steered clear of Duval and wandered into Two Friends to take advantage of the waining of happy hour. Somehow we managed free philly sandwiches by sitting amongst the locals.  But as you know, there is no free lunch. We were beside "that guy".  A loud recent yankee transplant retiree who was wearing a ball cap with the little helicopter thing on top with flashing led coasters and a matching shirt to his wife that said "Don't Matter".  He was telling the story of getting kicked off the street during Fantasy Fest for wearing just a thong and his buddy going to the bathroom  and bringing him back his used whitey tighty's so that he could stay to party on...oh my.  A sex store walk through laughing more than we should and the LSU/Bama game in the bar that you needed to bring your own date to ...managed to not get blind drunk and no one fell down...we were improving. 

Back up to Marathon the next day still taking advice from the Yelp app, we found 2 more bars tucked in behind another trailer park.  Bovine's sign was an old boat laying cocked up on it side with the name painted on it with an arrow to guide you around the trailers.  We ate fish sandwiches and stone crab soup on the upstairs deck then stopped back by Castaways for a drink (it was about halfway back tucked back on a canal, hidden in the same trailer park).  The bartender was a friendly hippie type that you could tell had aged zen happy in the Keys life.  He told us about a place we could get stone crabs for a buck and a quarter a piece...needless to say that went on our list.  Piled up by the pool with our bootlegged liquor, we wondered why we were the only ones taking advantage of this big huge lush pool.  And then 3 o'clock came...the strange ugly old people descended on the pool.  The 5 minute kitchen timer guy with a big white beard and a tiny little boy shorts and every other variety of strange tourist was time to head out.  Right at the base of the Seven Mile Bridge was Sunset Grill, a big thatched roof place that from the road appeared very touristy but we decided to check it out.  There was an open air second story bar over looking the pool (all lit up with changing colors) and deck and boat docks with the bridge in the back drop.  On the deck level was more of a tiki bar and we drank key lime drinks and watched little dark haired girls practice being mermaids in the pool.
I had been directed to the Key's Fisheries and insisted to try the  lobster reuben that they are famous for.  They are Florida's largest supplier of stone crabs and the crab boats were running non stop bringing my little version of happy to the docks.  When you order they give you a little card so you can guess the number of reubens they sell that month.  According to the tracker board this biggest month was almost 3100.  But all of this is slightly out of your reach if you work for Delta...or so says the sign on the front of the building.  We didn't ask.

The Hook Line & Drinker bar sits right beside but doesn't open until later so we let the reuben digest a while before heading back to eat our fill of the $1.25 stone crabs.  Heaven.  The guy cracking them had the neatest little cracking contraption with a metal arm on a lever...slightly more efficient than our hammer technique.  Whoever owns this place is all about the signs.  Above the bar hangs one NO TV's...NO KIDS...NO BUTTER.  That sign actually said "Don't Ask", so we didn't.  Back to the bar beside the bridge but the weather and 30 mile an hour winds had the roll ups rolled down.  We decided we would brave the bearded man in speedos and try out the hot tub instead.  No bearded man there and we used our better judgement and didn't add Mr Bubble to the hot tub. 

Headed north out of the Keys we contemplated a goat cheese omelet in Islamorada but opted instead for the 13 oz burger at Le Tub's in Hollywood.  Found a tiny dive motel a block off the beach and thanks to the wonder of the smart phone were able to figure out the trolley system to get us down town.  After drinks and nachos at Whiskey Tango we wound up on the boardwalk listening to a Darius Rucker look a like sing with along side a pretty afro'd girl.  The next morning we abandoned our little red mini van and spent the day with the Wingman and his girl in Ft Lauderdale.  Bloody Mary's on the boulevard, grouper reubens at Bahia Cabana, drinks at Shooters and another bar that I can't name and an awesome pizza at Anthony's.

No better time could have been better person could have been with me.  And I fell in love...just like last time.