Tuesday April 3
I awake about 7 a.m., and again remove the dry kitty food. This motel serves a hot breakfast, so after a shower and shave, I head off to the lobby for a heapin' helpin' of egg rounds (staple of the motel "free breakfast"), sausage rounds, and biscuit rounds. All of which are perfectly proportioned so as to create a breakfast sandwich of such uniform dimension that they could be stacked in a Pringles can.
I load up the car, crating the kitties last and putting them in their positions -- Abby in back of me and to my right, and Phoebe next to me in the right front passenger seat. Today is a long drive -- about 540 miles -- and I am anxious to tear up the road and get home.
We are a curious and paradoxical breed -- most of us anyway -- in that we crave variety and new experiences, but at the same time eventually tire of it and seek to return to the comfort and predictability of familiar surroundings. Rare is the person who craves the open road all the time. I think of Marie Colvin -- the eyepatch reporter --- who was killed this past February in Syria while on assignment... a state which was more or less constant, I guess. "Home" was a foreign concept to her, and I guess it's good that there are jobs for people like that.
But I would say most of us -- and certainly me -- fall into that former category. We are at times bored with what we perceive as the monotony of our everyday routines, and so we seek to "get away from it all." But then after a while, we miss our friends, our family, our favorite haunts. And for me, having spent two extended stays in Florida, I crave the familiar yet essential amenities that this state cannot provide. I need the rhythms of the seasons. I certainly enjoyed Florida, but am looking forward to a distinct Spring, Summer, and Fall "back home." They say there are "seasons" in Florida, too, but from what I can tell of people's descriptions, they are more subtle, punctuated only by the damnable "hurricane season." I crave the crisp, cool, dry air of a Spring morning and a Fall afternoon, of which there is none in Florida. And I am looking forward to returning to the "contour" of Wisconsin, for lack of a better word. There is no contour in Florida; only flat. A day trip in Wisconsin to Sauk City or Monroe or Spring Green is filled with wondrous sights ... hills, valleys, rock formations, and all manner of geographic eye candy. "Getting there" in Wisconsin is truly half the fun. A day trip in Florida is an exercise in containing boredom. The sawgrass, cypress trees, and cattails are "exotic" for about the first five minutes when you're traveling along along "Alligator Alley" (Interstate 75) from Naples to Miami through the Everglades. After that, it's "Oh my God, when am I going to get there?"
Ah, but there is the warmth, the sunshine, the bike rides in shorts and T-Shirts, the farmers' markets in February with fresh strawberries that explode in your mouth. And have I mention the ocean?
And so dear readers, you see the paradox of which I contemplate during my final drive home, punctuated by the occasional wail of a kitty.
I arrive home by about 7:30 p.m, with twilight descending. I exit the Prius, and I am suddenly hit by the sensation that I never left. The screeching of a power tool emanates from the garage of "Chuck," my neighbor to the one side of me, indicating he is still grinding away on his worthless '49 Ford pickup, a project he has been working on for the past five years, and which apparently has no end. Meanwhile, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke wafts from the rear stoop of the house to my other side, where Sue, my chain-smoking neighbor, for as long as I can remember, has been forced to appease her cravings for nicotine outside the house. This, in spite of the fact, that her husband toils 14 hours a day in a cheese-smoking factory and whose furniture and bedding must surely reek of sweat, smoked Gouda, and despair..
Yes, most certainly I left. And now I am home, and counting my blessings.
Bruce
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Second Day on the Road
Monday April 2
I awake about 6:30, and the first thing I do is remove the dry kitty food in an attempt to "fast" Phoebe so she doesn't throw up the contents of her stomach while on the road. I shower and shave. There is no breakfast here, other than coffee, so I head over to a nearby Cracker Barrel. I know this is unimaginative and that there are plenty of Cracker Barrels back home. But I love their pancakes (which are served with real maple syrup) and their turkey sausage (which is not as greasy as pork sausage). I return to the room, pack up the kitties and their gear, and head out on the road again.
I am bound today for Clarksville, TN, where I stopped the first night on my way to Florida four months ago. I have reservations at the same Econo-Lodge. The first hurdle is getting through Atlanta, and I make it fine with no major delays. I must say that Gretchen (my GPS unit) is doing a good job on the way back keeping me on the Interstate and off the state highways.
My approximately 475 miles pass without incident. Just the usual pee and gas stops. Fortunately, nothing comes out of either end of Phoebe, and both kitties are relatively quiet today and settle down for big long naps.
I arrive in Clarksville about 4:30, and after setting up the kitty food and litter, the next thing I do is crank the AC and take a nap. The AC at the Motel 6 the night before was on some kind of "governor" that limited the amount by which you chill down the room. Bastards. So it was nice to bring the room down to "meat locker" temperature, get under the covers, and take a proper nap. I awake about 6:30 and am hungry, having nibbled during the day only on the last of the bargain bison jerky from Dixie Grocery Liquidators, along with some trail mix. Without taking a drive anywhere (which I really don't want to do), my choices within walking distance are an Arby's, a "Captain D's" (which is a fast-seafood chain of restaurants similar to Long John Silvers) or a McDonalds. I opt for Arby's because I have been wanting to try one of their Reuben sandwiches which they have been advertising on TV.
I decide to order the "Super Reuben" in which they put a layer of shaved turkey (or turkey-like substance) on top of the corned Arby meat, so you get kind of a "double portion" of meat. I order this with a small drink, and my bill comes to the better part of $9, of which $7 represents the sandwich. I didn't really look a the menu price, because I simply wanted to try the sandwich.
And while it was tasty enough -- salty in that fast-food, impossible-to-distinguish-among-individual-ingredients kind of way -- I am thinking that seven bucks for a sandwich is really pushing the limits of a fast-food establishment. I am thinking that for seven bucks, I should have a waiter or waitress bringing me the sandwich, rather than carrying it myself on a plastic tray from a counter.
Or is it me? Am I once again showing signs of getting old and/or being out of touch with what shit costs? I just think of Arby's as the place you used to go and get five roast beef sandwiches for five bucks. In my poorer days, I could take those sandwiches home, put them in the fridge, and stretch those sandwiches out to five meals, and life was good. That was Arby's proper place in the universe. A source of cheap protein. Protein of unknown origins, granted, but protein none the less, and something other than hamburger, though exactly WHAT remains a mystery to this day.
Since when did their corporate execs get delusions of grandeur and imagine themselves a "restaurant" and imagine that your average Arby's customer would pony up seven bucks for a single sandwich? Even McDonald's has enough sense to limit the price of their most expensive sandwich -- a third-pound "Angus Burger" -- to $3.99.
Oh well, I had the sandwich. It was good and filling. But I was taken aback by the hubris of it all.
Back to the Econo-Lodge, where Phoebe seems to be in good humor this evening. I pass the time reading, surfing the Internet, and watching "Pawn Stars" on the History Channel.
I am looking forward to making it home tomorrow. The thrill of the open road is losing its charm --- especially traveling with two kitties.
I hit the sack about 10:30.
Bruce
I awake about 6:30, and the first thing I do is remove the dry kitty food in an attempt to "fast" Phoebe so she doesn't throw up the contents of her stomach while on the road. I shower and shave. There is no breakfast here, other than coffee, so I head over to a nearby Cracker Barrel. I know this is unimaginative and that there are plenty of Cracker Barrels back home. But I love their pancakes (which are served with real maple syrup) and their turkey sausage (which is not as greasy as pork sausage). I return to the room, pack up the kitties and their gear, and head out on the road again.
I am bound today for Clarksville, TN, where I stopped the first night on my way to Florida four months ago. I have reservations at the same Econo-Lodge. The first hurdle is getting through Atlanta, and I make it fine with no major delays. I must say that Gretchen (my GPS unit) is doing a good job on the way back keeping me on the Interstate and off the state highways.
My approximately 475 miles pass without incident. Just the usual pee and gas stops. Fortunately, nothing comes out of either end of Phoebe, and both kitties are relatively quiet today and settle down for big long naps.
I arrive in Clarksville about 4:30, and after setting up the kitty food and litter, the next thing I do is crank the AC and take a nap. The AC at the Motel 6 the night before was on some kind of "governor" that limited the amount by which you chill down the room. Bastards. So it was nice to bring the room down to "meat locker" temperature, get under the covers, and take a proper nap. I awake about 6:30 and am hungry, having nibbled during the day only on the last of the bargain bison jerky from Dixie Grocery Liquidators, along with some trail mix. Without taking a drive anywhere (which I really don't want to do), my choices within walking distance are an Arby's, a "Captain D's" (which is a fast-seafood chain of restaurants similar to Long John Silvers) or a McDonalds. I opt for Arby's because I have been wanting to try one of their Reuben sandwiches which they have been advertising on TV.
I decide to order the "Super Reuben" in which they put a layer of shaved turkey (or turkey-like substance) on top of the corned Arby meat, so you get kind of a "double portion" of meat. I order this with a small drink, and my bill comes to the better part of $9, of which $7 represents the sandwich. I didn't really look a the menu price, because I simply wanted to try the sandwich.
And while it was tasty enough -- salty in that fast-food, impossible-to-distinguish-among-individual-ingredients kind of way -- I am thinking that seven bucks for a sandwich is really pushing the limits of a fast-food establishment. I am thinking that for seven bucks, I should have a waiter or waitress bringing me the sandwich, rather than carrying it myself on a plastic tray from a counter.
Or is it me? Am I once again showing signs of getting old and/or being out of touch with what shit costs? I just think of Arby's as the place you used to go and get five roast beef sandwiches for five bucks. In my poorer days, I could take those sandwiches home, put them in the fridge, and stretch those sandwiches out to five meals, and life was good. That was Arby's proper place in the universe. A source of cheap protein. Protein of unknown origins, granted, but protein none the less, and something other than hamburger, though exactly WHAT remains a mystery to this day.
Since when did their corporate execs get delusions of grandeur and imagine themselves a "restaurant" and imagine that your average Arby's customer would pony up seven bucks for a single sandwich? Even McDonald's has enough sense to limit the price of their most expensive sandwich -- a third-pound "Angus Burger" -- to $3.99.
Oh well, I had the sandwich. It was good and filling. But I was taken aback by the hubris of it all.
Back to the Econo-Lodge, where Phoebe seems to be in good humor this evening. I pass the time reading, surfing the Internet, and watching "Pawn Stars" on the History Channel.
I am looking forward to making it home tomorrow. The thrill of the open road is losing its charm --- especially traveling with two kitties.
I hit the sack about 10:30.
Bruce
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
First Day on the Road
Sunday April 1
The alarm woke me at 5 a.m. I put the bedding in the washing machine, cooked and ate some breakfast, and finished loading the car. By the time Phoebe and Abby were ready to load, the bedding went into the dryer. I loaded the kitties, put the door key under the mat, and bid farewell to 8913 Somerset Boulevard.
To pass the time, I listen to "How to Build a House," a book on CD, the bane of many a reader, but welcome relief to those who spend many a long hour on the road. The book, though not what I expected, was nevertheless interesting.
The kitties made it OK, though Phoebe pitched a fit for about the first hour, and both barfed and pooped in her travel case. So I had to pull off the Interstate to a gas station, removing the offending effluents, and wash the fleece liner as best I could in the men's room and dry it as best as possible using the wall-mounted hand dryer.
But after that, she settled down and both kitties slept for most of the remainder of the trip. Strange as it may sound, I think the sound of the female voice narrating the book on CD soothed them. The destination today is Macon, Georgia. That's a little south of Atlanta by about 75 miles, but you have to remember I started out further south in Ft. Myers as opposed to starting out from Orlando. Plus, my watch trading buddy, Dan (from Atlanta), was unable to meet with me on my way, so there was little point in trying to make it to Atlanta.
As is was, I logged about 540 miles, and the trip went without incident, stopping only to pee and to fill once with gas. I nibbled on trail mix and buffalo jerky, and had a couple of bottles of water with me, so I didn't have to stop for lunch.
I got into Macon about 5:30, and pulled into my Motel 6 where I had a reservation. It is a bare-bones travel lodge style of motel, but you don’t get much for $39.95 these days! At least they didn’t charge extra for the two kitties. I had “breakfast for dinner” at a nearby Waffle House. For some reason, that sounded good to me. I had the waffle special, which is a festival of carbs with grits, toast, and the waffle. For protein, you get two eggs and choice of pork product, of which I had sausage.
Phoebe spent the first portion of the evening hissing in the motel room, asserting her Alpha-ness over Abby, who could have cared less. I phoned Dawn to let her know I made it OK. I did a little emailing, a little Internet surfing, and watched a little TV. Hit the sack around 10:30. The cats decided to have a "kitty pajama party" for a portion of the night, leaping from bed to bed with apparently great joy. Also, the damned air conditoner apparently had some type of "governor" on it, allowing the room only to be cooled to about 75 degrees, which is warm for me and prompted me to lay on the bed sans sheet or cover. Despite all this, I manage a few good hours of sleep. Driving tends to do that for me.
Bruce
The alarm woke me at 5 a.m. I put the bedding in the washing machine, cooked and ate some breakfast, and finished loading the car. By the time Phoebe and Abby were ready to load, the bedding went into the dryer. I loaded the kitties, put the door key under the mat, and bid farewell to 8913 Somerset Boulevard.
To pass the time, I listen to "How to Build a House," a book on CD, the bane of many a reader, but welcome relief to those who spend many a long hour on the road. The book, though not what I expected, was nevertheless interesting.
The kitties made it OK, though Phoebe pitched a fit for about the first hour, and both barfed and pooped in her travel case. So I had to pull off the Interstate to a gas station, removing the offending effluents, and wash the fleece liner as best I could in the men's room and dry it as best as possible using the wall-mounted hand dryer.
But after that, she settled down and both kitties slept for most of the remainder of the trip. Strange as it may sound, I think the sound of the female voice narrating the book on CD soothed them. The destination today is Macon, Georgia. That's a little south of Atlanta by about 75 miles, but you have to remember I started out further south in Ft. Myers as opposed to starting out from Orlando. Plus, my watch trading buddy, Dan (from Atlanta), was unable to meet with me on my way, so there was little point in trying to make it to Atlanta.
As is was, I logged about 540 miles, and the trip went without incident, stopping only to pee and to fill once with gas. I nibbled on trail mix and buffalo jerky, and had a couple of bottles of water with me, so I didn't have to stop for lunch.
I got into Macon about 5:30, and pulled into my Motel 6 where I had a reservation. It is a bare-bones travel lodge style of motel, but you don’t get much for $39.95 these days! At least they didn’t charge extra for the two kitties. I had “breakfast for dinner” at a nearby Waffle House. For some reason, that sounded good to me. I had the waffle special, which is a festival of carbs with grits, toast, and the waffle. For protein, you get two eggs and choice of pork product, of which I had sausage.
Phoebe spent the first portion of the evening hissing in the motel room, asserting her Alpha-ness over Abby, who could have cared less. I phoned Dawn to let her know I made it OK. I did a little emailing, a little Internet surfing, and watched a little TV. Hit the sack around 10:30. The cats decided to have a "kitty pajama party" for a portion of the night, leaping from bed to bed with apparently great joy. Also, the damned air conditoner apparently had some type of "governor" on it, allowing the room only to be cooled to about 75 degrees, which is warm for me and prompted me to lay on the bed sans sheet or cover. Despite all this, I manage a few good hours of sleep. Driving tends to do that for me.
Bruce
Final Day in Paradise
Saturday March 31
I awake, have some breakfast, and immediately clean the rest of the condo, for Heather is coming over at 10 a.m. to do the walkthrough. The vacuuming is done (as best I can), so I concentrate on the two crappers, the kitchen, and washing the hard floors with the "Swifter," which as I've mentioned before I think is a pretty worthless device, or at the very least poorly designed (unless I'm using it wrong).
Heather arrives about 10:15, and we talk for a while about possible plans for next winter. She urges me to contact her if I believe I will be returning to Ft. Myers. At the very least, she can tell me areas that are "good" and areas to avoid. She does her walk-thru and says she is satisfied, but something tells me the cat hair is an issue (and it turns out that I do pay a cleaning fee that is deducted from my $500 security deposit). I thank Heather for the extra day, and tell her I hope to be on the road by 7 a.m. tomorrow (Sunday) and she says that's fine.
I don't have my bike any more, and I don't really want to drive anywhere, with today being Saturday. So I finish packing, leaving out only what I need to change clothes and eat a little breakfast tomorrow. I spend the rest of the day reading, surfing the Internet, and spending time out by the condo pool. For lunch and dinner, I try to clean up as many of the groceries as I can to minimize toting food in the two mini coolers I brought down here.
I reflect on my time down here, and I think it was time well spent. The winter back home was unseasonably mild this year, but I was still biking, swimming, walking around in shorts and T-shirts, and eating fresh strawberries while the folks back home were in long pants and jackets. I enjoyed Southwest Florida, and I think a person could certainly do worse in picking an area to spend the winter. Yes, Ft. Myers has its areas of blight, but what big city doesn't? If you want the creature comforts of a larger city, you have to take a little blight on the side.
The dating game didn't yield Ms. Right. I think the chances of finding a Florida gal who would spend at least the summers in Wisconsin is even less likely than finding a Wisconsin gal to spend winters down here. But the experience was still worthwhile. The condo here was nice. And even though I got very little use of that second bedroom, I think it's good to have the extra space, especially if traveling with the kitties (to have a place to put the litter boxes).
Evening comes, and I'm pretty much all set to go. I set the alarm for 5 a.m., the first and only time I have set my little travel alarm since I have been here.
Bruce
I awake, have some breakfast, and immediately clean the rest of the condo, for Heather is coming over at 10 a.m. to do the walkthrough. The vacuuming is done (as best I can), so I concentrate on the two crappers, the kitchen, and washing the hard floors with the "Swifter," which as I've mentioned before I think is a pretty worthless device, or at the very least poorly designed (unless I'm using it wrong).
Heather arrives about 10:15, and we talk for a while about possible plans for next winter. She urges me to contact her if I believe I will be returning to Ft. Myers. At the very least, she can tell me areas that are "good" and areas to avoid. She does her walk-thru and says she is satisfied, but something tells me the cat hair is an issue (and it turns out that I do pay a cleaning fee that is deducted from my $500 security deposit). I thank Heather for the extra day, and tell her I hope to be on the road by 7 a.m. tomorrow (Sunday) and she says that's fine.
I don't have my bike any more, and I don't really want to drive anywhere, with today being Saturday. So I finish packing, leaving out only what I need to change clothes and eat a little breakfast tomorrow. I spend the rest of the day reading, surfing the Internet, and spending time out by the condo pool. For lunch and dinner, I try to clean up as many of the groceries as I can to minimize toting food in the two mini coolers I brought down here.
I reflect on my time down here, and I think it was time well spent. The winter back home was unseasonably mild this year, but I was still biking, swimming, walking around in shorts and T-shirts, and eating fresh strawberries while the folks back home were in long pants and jackets. I enjoyed Southwest Florida, and I think a person could certainly do worse in picking an area to spend the winter. Yes, Ft. Myers has its areas of blight, but what big city doesn't? If you want the creature comforts of a larger city, you have to take a little blight on the side.
The dating game didn't yield Ms. Right. I think the chances of finding a Florida gal who would spend at least the summers in Wisconsin is even less likely than finding a Wisconsin gal to spend winters down here. But the experience was still worthwhile. The condo here was nice. And even though I got very little use of that second bedroom, I think it's good to have the extra space, especially if traveling with the kitties (to have a place to put the litter boxes).
Evening comes, and I'm pretty much all set to go. I set the alarm for 5 a.m., the first and only time I have set my little travel alarm since I have been here.
Bruce
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Bikes, Blues, and Bucky
Friday March 30
I have the rather sad task of returning my rental bike today to "Randy," the bike dealer at the Fleamasters flea market.
My vintage 1980s Murray "Westport" has been my trusted steed throughout my stay here, and has never let me down. I've missed having "gears" for a little faster transport on the more lengthy uninterrupted stretches of flat terrain. However, the simplicity and durability of a coaster bike cannot be denied. I remove the custom seat I installed on the bike, and re-install the seat that came with it. Then I drive it over to the flea market, where Randy happily returns half my money -- $50 -- and says he will have no trouble reselling it. I have no use for the basket I bought to go with the bike -- $15 -- so I throw that in for free, along with the cushion handle bar grips that I bought.
I return to the condo, and start packing a few things, although tomorrow will be the major packing day. I also start cleaning the condo in anticipation of Heather's inspection of the place tomorrow. The vacuum cleaner she has provided me sucks -- or rather DOESN'T suck very well -- and it has no upholstery attachment for the hose, so the chairs and couch and sectional and area rug do not get very clean of all the cat hair. But I do the best I can, and at least suck up all the dust/cat hair bunnies that have accumulated in the corners.
(Heather will later assess me a $59 fee for having a maid come in to clean up the cat hair, and I assume the maid had her own vacuum cleaner. So mental note to myself and warning to those relatives thinking about traveling with cats: Most landlords are going to "get you" one way or another for your cats!)
Carol and I continue a few more emails and phone calls about our final "date" for this evening. I am to meet her at approximately 9 p.m. at a placed called“Buckingham Blues Bar,” which according to her can be a very fun place to go, dance, listen to music, etc. But that can vary, she warns, depending on who’s playing, what the crowd is like, etc. When I ask if she knows who's playing this evening, she has no idea.
The bar/club is in the town/village/hamlet (whatever) of Buckingham, which is northwest of Ft. Myers and out in the sticks a bit. The owner is apparently an avid blues patron and hosts regular blues festivals in his fenced-in patio/lawn in back of the bar. I later see that this space includes a HUGE deck area with an outdoor stage, and lots of picnic tables, lawn furniture, etc., to sit, along with a fire pit for colder nights. In the very rear of the property is a pen which houses "Bucky the Buckingham Mule," which is the bar's mascot. So Carol informs me that, if I'm lucky, I'll get to meet him. (I can hardly wait!)
I head out to the bar at about 8 p.m. It is dark, so I set my GPS unit for the address, and it's a good thing. I would never have found this place without it. It's on a twisty, curvy road (perfect for the cops to pick off drunk drivers) and I've got cars on my ass who obviously are paying no heed to the 45mph speed limit.
I get to the place about 8:45 p.m., ahead of Carol, pay the $10 cover charge, stake out a table, order a beer, and watch the "band" finish setting up. I say "band" in quotes, because there are only three people. It is a guy by the name of Bobby Messano (on lead -- and only -- guitar, who apparently is the leader of this rather motley looking crew, and for whom the band is named). He will be accompanied this evening by a drummer and a bassman. All of them looked to be in their late 50s or early 60s, so they were all seasoned musicians. Bobby, in particular, looks like he's got about a million miles on him, and he's got the "no hair in front, but back hair down to this shoulders" thing going on, and he bears an uncanny resemblance to porn star Ron Jeremy.
OK, folks, I know extremely little about blues. There's B.B. King, and everybody else. That's what I know. I guess Messano is somewhat famous in the “blues circles,” but I’d never heard of him. So for a $10 cover charge -- to see what amounts to a trio -- I'm hoping they're passable and at least play some stuff that you can dance to, seeing as how Carol wants to dance.
Carol shows up. She is very tastefully dressed, by the way, in black pants and black blouse with a deep V-neck showing some nice cleavage. So still a little daring, perhaps, but no catwoman costume, thankfully.
She is taken aback that there is $10 cover charge, saying in all the times she has been here, there has never been a cover. So I pay her cover charge as an act of chivalry and tell her not to worry about it ... and that this Messano guy is supposed to be pretty good. She tells me she's never heard of them either. I order up a Bud for Carol, and a fresh one for myself.
They hit their opening number, and they are so earsplittingly loud that Carol covers her ears, and in a short time goes outside and retrieves some earplugs from her car. (OK, show of hands ... anyone out there customarily travel with earplugs in their car? .... Anyone? ... Bueller? ... No, didn't think so. I ask Carol about this, and she says that sometimes she works security patrol at rock concerts located in venues within the Edison College camputs. So there you go.
While Bobby and his two others were very talented, musically, is was not dance music. They were doing a lot riffing, tempo changes, etc. A lot of his songs had long introductions where he’d do some strumming/picking, while talking about where he was and what he was doing when he first heard a particular song. He was dropping a lot of big names, but it was hard to tell if he actually PLAYED with any of these people, or merely attended one of their concerts! What they lacked in depth (due to only being a three piece) they made up in volume. They were WAY over amplified, in my opinion, for a bar of that size.
(I later Google the guy and found out he wrote a tune called "That's Why I Don't Sing the Blues" which I guess was a semi-final contender in a recent Grammy award draft pick. It never made it as a nomination, but apparently you can put some PR spin on just being considered, and this is what Bobby has done. But working blues bars and state/county fairs is about as far as you get when the Grammy committee merely "considers" your song, but you don't make it to a nomination, let alone winning an actual award.)
Anyway, the band takes a break, and we both need some fresh air and some relief from the pounding music, so we go outside to the patio/lawn area to see if we can find Bucky. I stop at the my car and pick up the carrots I have brought. There's no one at the patio tonight, and the flood lights are turned off. Guided by my micro LED keychain flashlight, we make our way back to the paddock, through the latched gate, and start calling for Bucky. And I'll be damned if he doesn't saunter up to the fence, and we proceed to feed him carrots.
It is said the Bucky has a taste for beer, and on "festival nights" back in the patio, people get a big kick out of getting the mule drunk.When Bucky hears a band tuning up out on the patio, he even starts braying in anticipation of his beer. I am not sure of the legality/cruelty aspect of this, but apparently it’s a local institution, and it is said that bets are taken as to when Bucky will keel over from inebriation. I think he enjoyed the carrots just as much.
There was also a nice double-seat swing back there, and Carol and I sat and talked for a while, about nothing in particular, but it was a break from the bar and a chance to get some fresh air (no smoking the bar, by the way, which was kind of surreal watching people out in the parking lot having their smokes.) You got your hand stamped upon entrance, so you could come and go as you pleased, and even take your drinks outside into the parking lot and/or the deck in back.
The "crowd," if you can call it that, was real thin, perhaps about 20-25 people. So apparently, cover charges do not go over real big around these parts. We stayed a while longer. There were a few clumsy attempts by people there to start dancing, but there was no regular “beat” to the music, if you know what I mean. The drummer was hell on wheels, and he was VERY good. He had a couple of solos that were awesome. Bobby performed his "big number" and after that we decided to go. It was about 11:30, and the crowd had thinned even further, to about 15 or so people.
We hugged and kissed out in the parking lot, then got in our cars and went our separate ways. There was no awkward conversation about “where do we go from here” or anything like that. I think we both understood that while we liked each other and had a pleasant enough time together, that we were not compatible mates.
It was kind of an inauspicious (if not somewhat surreal) ending to our time together. Buckingham's wouldn’t have been my choice as a place to meet. I would have picked a place that was maybe a little more “upscale” and had a band (or even a DJ) doing ‘80s music or something of a more "danceable" nature. The place had a lot of “character,” I will give it that, but just didn’t “flow” with what I think Carol had in mind for a final date. I think she felt a little embarrassed that it had turned out to be find of a flat night at Buckingham’s, but I rolled with it and made the best of it.
I drove back home, and exhausted, hit the sack.
Bruce
I have the rather sad task of returning my rental bike today to "Randy," the bike dealer at the Fleamasters flea market.
My vintage 1980s Murray "Westport" has been my trusted steed throughout my stay here, and has never let me down. I've missed having "gears" for a little faster transport on the more lengthy uninterrupted stretches of flat terrain. However, the simplicity and durability of a coaster bike cannot be denied. I remove the custom seat I installed on the bike, and re-install the seat that came with it. Then I drive it over to the flea market, where Randy happily returns half my money -- $50 -- and says he will have no trouble reselling it. I have no use for the basket I bought to go with the bike -- $15 -- so I throw that in for free, along with the cushion handle bar grips that I bought.
I return to the condo, and start packing a few things, although tomorrow will be the major packing day. I also start cleaning the condo in anticipation of Heather's inspection of the place tomorrow. The vacuum cleaner she has provided me sucks -- or rather DOESN'T suck very well -- and it has no upholstery attachment for the hose, so the chairs and couch and sectional and area rug do not get very clean of all the cat hair. But I do the best I can, and at least suck up all the dust/cat hair bunnies that have accumulated in the corners.
(Heather will later assess me a $59 fee for having a maid come in to clean up the cat hair, and I assume the maid had her own vacuum cleaner. So mental note to myself and warning to those relatives thinking about traveling with cats: Most landlords are going to "get you" one way or another for your cats!)
Carol and I continue a few more emails and phone calls about our final "date" for this evening. I am to meet her at approximately 9 p.m. at a placed called“Buckingham Blues Bar,” which according to her can be a very fun place to go, dance, listen to music, etc. But that can vary, she warns, depending on who’s playing, what the crowd is like, etc. When I ask if she knows who's playing this evening, she has no idea.
The bar/club is in the town/village/hamlet (whatever) of Buckingham, which is northwest of Ft. Myers and out in the sticks a bit. The owner is apparently an avid blues patron and hosts regular blues festivals in his fenced-in patio/lawn in back of the bar. I later see that this space includes a HUGE deck area with an outdoor stage, and lots of picnic tables, lawn furniture, etc., to sit, along with a fire pit for colder nights. In the very rear of the property is a pen which houses "Bucky the Buckingham Mule," which is the bar's mascot. So Carol informs me that, if I'm lucky, I'll get to meet him. (I can hardly wait!)
I head out to the bar at about 8 p.m. It is dark, so I set my GPS unit for the address, and it's a good thing. I would never have found this place without it. It's on a twisty, curvy road (perfect for the cops to pick off drunk drivers) and I've got cars on my ass who obviously are paying no heed to the 45mph speed limit.
I get to the place about 8:45 p.m., ahead of Carol, pay the $10 cover charge, stake out a table, order a beer, and watch the "band" finish setting up. I say "band" in quotes, because there are only three people. It is a guy by the name of Bobby Messano (on lead -- and only -- guitar, who apparently is the leader of this rather motley looking crew, and for whom the band is named). He will be accompanied this evening by a drummer and a bassman. All of them looked to be in their late 50s or early 60s, so they were all seasoned musicians. Bobby, in particular, looks like he's got about a million miles on him, and he's got the "no hair in front, but back hair down to this shoulders" thing going on, and he bears an uncanny resemblance to porn star Ron Jeremy.
OK, folks, I know extremely little about blues. There's B.B. King, and everybody else. That's what I know. I guess Messano is somewhat famous in the “blues circles,” but I’d never heard of him. So for a $10 cover charge -- to see what amounts to a trio -- I'm hoping they're passable and at least play some stuff that you can dance to, seeing as how Carol wants to dance.
Carol shows up. She is very tastefully dressed, by the way, in black pants and black blouse with a deep V-neck showing some nice cleavage. So still a little daring, perhaps, but no catwoman costume, thankfully.
She is taken aback that there is $10 cover charge, saying in all the times she has been here, there has never been a cover. So I pay her cover charge as an act of chivalry and tell her not to worry about it ... and that this Messano guy is supposed to be pretty good. She tells me she's never heard of them either. I order up a Bud for Carol, and a fresh one for myself.
They hit their opening number, and they are so earsplittingly loud that Carol covers her ears, and in a short time goes outside and retrieves some earplugs from her car. (OK, show of hands ... anyone out there customarily travel with earplugs in their car? .... Anyone? ... Bueller? ... No, didn't think so. I ask Carol about this, and she says that sometimes she works security patrol at rock concerts located in venues within the Edison College camputs. So there you go.
While Bobby and his two others were very talented, musically, is was not dance music. They were doing a lot riffing, tempo changes, etc. A lot of his songs had long introductions where he’d do some strumming/picking, while talking about where he was and what he was doing when he first heard a particular song. He was dropping a lot of big names, but it was hard to tell if he actually PLAYED with any of these people, or merely attended one of their concerts! What they lacked in depth (due to only being a three piece) they made up in volume. They were WAY over amplified, in my opinion, for a bar of that size.
(I later Google the guy and found out he wrote a tune called "That's Why I Don't Sing the Blues" which I guess was a semi-final contender in a recent Grammy award draft pick. It never made it as a nomination, but apparently you can put some PR spin on just being considered, and this is what Bobby has done. But working blues bars and state/county fairs is about as far as you get when the Grammy committee merely "considers" your song, but you don't make it to a nomination, let alone winning an actual award.)
Anyway, the band takes a break, and we both need some fresh air and some relief from the pounding music, so we go outside to the patio/lawn area to see if we can find Bucky. I stop at the my car and pick up the carrots I have brought. There's no one at the patio tonight, and the flood lights are turned off. Guided by my micro LED keychain flashlight, we make our way back to the paddock, through the latched gate, and start calling for Bucky. And I'll be damned if he doesn't saunter up to the fence, and we proceed to feed him carrots.
It is said the Bucky has a taste for beer, and on "festival nights" back in the patio, people get a big kick out of getting the mule drunk.When Bucky hears a band tuning up out on the patio, he even starts braying in anticipation of his beer. I am not sure of the legality/cruelty aspect of this, but apparently it’s a local institution, and it is said that bets are taken as to when Bucky will keel over from inebriation. I think he enjoyed the carrots just as much.
There was also a nice double-seat swing back there, and Carol and I sat and talked for a while, about nothing in particular, but it was a break from the bar and a chance to get some fresh air (no smoking the bar, by the way, which was kind of surreal watching people out in the parking lot having their smokes.) You got your hand stamped upon entrance, so you could come and go as you pleased, and even take your drinks outside into the parking lot and/or the deck in back.
The "crowd," if you can call it that, was real thin, perhaps about 20-25 people. So apparently, cover charges do not go over real big around these parts. We stayed a while longer. There were a few clumsy attempts by people there to start dancing, but there was no regular “beat” to the music, if you know what I mean. The drummer was hell on wheels, and he was VERY good. He had a couple of solos that were awesome. Bobby performed his "big number" and after that we decided to go. It was about 11:30, and the crowd had thinned even further, to about 15 or so people.
We hugged and kissed out in the parking lot, then got in our cars and went our separate ways. There was no awkward conversation about “where do we go from here” or anything like that. I think we both understood that while we liked each other and had a pleasant enough time together, that we were not compatible mates.
It was kind of an inauspicious (if not somewhat surreal) ending to our time together. Buckingham's wouldn’t have been my choice as a place to meet. I would have picked a place that was maybe a little more “upscale” and had a band (or even a DJ) doing ‘80s music or something of a more "danceable" nature. The place had a lot of “character,” I will give it that, but just didn’t “flow” with what I think Carol had in mind for a final date. I think she felt a little embarrassed that it had turned out to be find of a flat night at Buckingham’s, but I rolled with it and made the best of it.
I drove back home, and exhausted, hit the sack.
Bruce
Friday, June 1, 2012
Duds and Distressed Groceries
(Note: I am composing these closing entries to my blog from Wisconsin, where I have been for the last couple of months. I need to get these events down on paper before they escape my ever increasing feeble mind. Details might be a little sketchy at this point, but the main events are there, and will provide closure for this winter journey.)
Thursday March 29. Today is shopping day, and I have two places I want to visit: The Miromar Outlet Mall, in nearby Estero (just south of Fort Myers); and Dixie Liquidation Groceries, just a bit further south in Bonita Springs.
Miromar Outlet -- This is a very nice outlet mall, done in the newest sytle of "indoor/outdoor" style of architecture, with plazas and fountains scattered every so often to provide places to pause and rest or chat or whatever. Most of the restaurants (at least the sit-down venues) are conveniently clustered together in a central part of the mall. I buy a pair of jeans at the Eddie Bauer outlet store. And to my delight, I fit nicely into a pair with a 38-inch waist. I haven't been the "30s" since probably the late 1980s, so we're talking over 20 years here, folks. This was a good feeling, and I guess all that biking and working out have yielded some results. I also buy a nice button-down shirt at the Van Heusen outlet because I can't find anything I like (and that fits) at E.B. Isn't it amazing how much clothing sizes vary? And I know it is worse for you gals than it is for us guys. Anyway, E.B. has something they call a "slim fit" in a shirt. So I try on an extra-large shirt that is labeled "slim fit." And I'm just about bursting the buttons. Now, is it just me, or is there something inherently paradoxical about an extra large "slim fit" shirt? Fortunately, Van Heusen had something in an extra large shirt made with enough material to actually fit a person of normal proportions.
I follow that up with lunch at a place called the Waterside Seafood and Grill Co., where I have a delicious Grouper sandwich and an iced tea. I check out a few more stores, but I don't buy anything more, for I will just have to haul it back to Wisconsin at this point.
Dixie Liquidation Groceries (DLG) -- this is a very interesting store, located in a strip mall in Bonita Springs. It is not, as you might think, affiliated with the Winn Dixie chain of grocery stores, which are prevalent down here in Florida (although Publix is clearly the dominant grocery chain in these parts). Anyway, DLG is a completely independent store, and they act as "hub" for the various grocery wholesalers in southwest Florida who require an outlet to dispose of all their "seconds." This can include dent and scratched, closeouts, overstocks, stuff that's close to (or at) expiration or "best if eaten by" dates, and so forth. They just truck it all on over to Dixie, and Dixie sells it to the public. Some of it is a terrific bargain, other things aren't that much cheaper than if you simply bought them at a Walmart. A lot of what they have there is "experimental" varieties of foods that companies tried and (obviously) failed. Also, a lot of ethnic foods, for some reason. In any event, it makes for a VERY interesting shopping experience, perusing up and down the aisles and seeing dented boxes of corn flakes that might be next to pallet full of hot-pepper jelly, next to a large box filled with bison jerky, next to large stack of tinned oysters swimming in a savory mustard/dill sauce, and so forth. There's nothing fresh at this store, and nothing frozen. It's all stuff in boxes, jars, pouches, cans, shrink wrapped, etc. There is a guy outside the store selling some local produce, so he must have some type of arrangement with the store, because he's a freelancer. No fresh meat department, and no bakery, unless of course you count the packaged cookies, Donettes, etc., as "bakery."
The other big thing they have there is wine. Deeply discounted wine. Wine you never heard of. I don't spend very much time here, but it is obvious to me that this store is a final resting place of many a vintner's broken dreams of making it big in the wine business.
So anyway, I obviously couldn't load up on much of anything since I'm only here for a couple more days. But I do buy some Milky Way dark chocolate miniature bars (hand packed into ziplock bags, presumably because their original outer plastic bags have hemmoraged in what I can only imagine as some freak warehouse accident), some bison jerky, and some chewing gum, all for the road trip back home. I also buy a packaged noodle mix (chicken flavored with LOTS of sodium) for 50 cents that I am going to prepare with some chicken breasts tonight back at the condo. All in all, a very interesting experience, and I wish I would have explored this place earlier. It's not a place for people who like to eat "fresh" and/or "natural" stuff, because this store is a veritable temple to the processed food industry, and the amazing world of food additives and preservatives.
Back at the condo, I have an email/phone exchange with Carol and am asked to remain on "standby" for Friday night, as she will probably be excused from jury duty tomorrow. She would like to go to "Buckingham's" this little blues bar outside of Ft. Myers that usually has some decent music on Friday nights. She wants to go dancing, and she wants me to meet "Bucky" the official mascot of Buckingham's, who happens to be a mule. Well, Fred Astaire I ain't, but I tell Carol I will give it my best shot. And as for Bucky, I will bring him the remainder of my carrots from the refrigerator.
Bruce
Thursday March 29. Today is shopping day, and I have two places I want to visit: The Miromar Outlet Mall, in nearby Estero (just south of Fort Myers); and Dixie Liquidation Groceries, just a bit further south in Bonita Springs.
Miromar Outlet -- This is a very nice outlet mall, done in the newest sytle of "indoor/outdoor" style of architecture, with plazas and fountains scattered every so often to provide places to pause and rest or chat or whatever. Most of the restaurants (at least the sit-down venues) are conveniently clustered together in a central part of the mall. I buy a pair of jeans at the Eddie Bauer outlet store. And to my delight, I fit nicely into a pair with a 38-inch waist. I haven't been the "30s" since probably the late 1980s, so we're talking over 20 years here, folks. This was a good feeling, and I guess all that biking and working out have yielded some results. I also buy a nice button-down shirt at the Van Heusen outlet because I can't find anything I like (and that fits) at E.B. Isn't it amazing how much clothing sizes vary? And I know it is worse for you gals than it is for us guys. Anyway, E.B. has something they call a "slim fit" in a shirt. So I try on an extra-large shirt that is labeled "slim fit." And I'm just about bursting the buttons. Now, is it just me, or is there something inherently paradoxical about an extra large "slim fit" shirt? Fortunately, Van Heusen had something in an extra large shirt made with enough material to actually fit a person of normal proportions.
I follow that up with lunch at a place called the Waterside Seafood and Grill Co., where I have a delicious Grouper sandwich and an iced tea. I check out a few more stores, but I don't buy anything more, for I will just have to haul it back to Wisconsin at this point.
Dixie Liquidation Groceries (DLG) -- this is a very interesting store, located in a strip mall in Bonita Springs. It is not, as you might think, affiliated with the Winn Dixie chain of grocery stores, which are prevalent down here in Florida (although Publix is clearly the dominant grocery chain in these parts). Anyway, DLG is a completely independent store, and they act as "hub" for the various grocery wholesalers in southwest Florida who require an outlet to dispose of all their "seconds." This can include dent and scratched, closeouts, overstocks, stuff that's close to (or at) expiration or "best if eaten by" dates, and so forth. They just truck it all on over to Dixie, and Dixie sells it to the public. Some of it is a terrific bargain, other things aren't that much cheaper than if you simply bought them at a Walmart. A lot of what they have there is "experimental" varieties of foods that companies tried and (obviously) failed. Also, a lot of ethnic foods, for some reason. In any event, it makes for a VERY interesting shopping experience, perusing up and down the aisles and seeing dented boxes of corn flakes that might be next to pallet full of hot-pepper jelly, next to a large box filled with bison jerky, next to large stack of tinned oysters swimming in a savory mustard/dill sauce, and so forth. There's nothing fresh at this store, and nothing frozen. It's all stuff in boxes, jars, pouches, cans, shrink wrapped, etc. There is a guy outside the store selling some local produce, so he must have some type of arrangement with the store, because he's a freelancer. No fresh meat department, and no bakery, unless of course you count the packaged cookies, Donettes, etc., as "bakery."
The other big thing they have there is wine. Deeply discounted wine. Wine you never heard of. I don't spend very much time here, but it is obvious to me that this store is a final resting place of many a vintner's broken dreams of making it big in the wine business.
So anyway, I obviously couldn't load up on much of anything since I'm only here for a couple more days. But I do buy some Milky Way dark chocolate miniature bars (hand packed into ziplock bags, presumably because their original outer plastic bags have hemmoraged in what I can only imagine as some freak warehouse accident), some bison jerky, and some chewing gum, all for the road trip back home. I also buy a packaged noodle mix (chicken flavored with LOTS of sodium) for 50 cents that I am going to prepare with some chicken breasts tonight back at the condo. All in all, a very interesting experience, and I wish I would have explored this place earlier. It's not a place for people who like to eat "fresh" and/or "natural" stuff, because this store is a veritable temple to the processed food industry, and the amazing world of food additives and preservatives.
Back at the condo, I have an email/phone exchange with Carol and am asked to remain on "standby" for Friday night, as she will probably be excused from jury duty tomorrow. She would like to go to "Buckingham's" this little blues bar outside of Ft. Myers that usually has some decent music on Friday nights. She wants to go dancing, and she wants me to meet "Bucky" the official mascot of Buckingham's, who happens to be a mule. Well, Fred Astaire I ain't, but I tell Carol I will give it my best shot. And as for Bucky, I will bring him the remainder of my carrots from the refrigerator.
Bruce
Monday, April 16, 2012
Going Out With a Bang
Saturday March 24 - Wednesday March 28
Saturday-Sunday
As is my custom, I lay low on the weekend, reading, answering emails, and catching up on the blog. I start planning a "final week" here, filled with activities, some new, some old favorites. I continue my emailing and researching the "Long Island Sound" of rock music via my musician buddy, Grant Werner, and music historian Richard Arfin. Thanks to Youtube, there is a generous amount of clips showing the various bands:
The Rascals; Vanilla Fudge; The Hassles (with a very young Billy Joel playing the Hammond B3 organ); The Vagrants (with Leslie West on keys); The Rich Kids (with Richard Supa); The Illusion; and others. This sound became what was known as "The Long Island Sound" when these bands finally "hit" and promoters and agents started putting them on tour, and recording them and so forth. The early videos are grainy and kind of "raw," but you can see the early influence of the B3 as a "rock" instrument that would later be taken seriously by more "mainstream" rock bands like Carlos Santana, Three Dog Night, and many others. I can't say that this early style of organ playing is my thing. It's rough, and primitive, and consists of a lot of chord pounding and switching the Leslie back and forth to add the tremelo effect. I much prefer a little (or a lot!) of finger virtuosity, which would come later. The pure "Long Island Sound," is more of a "garage rock" style that many people like, but not this boy. Still, I would like to read Arfin's original series of articles, "Beaches, Bars, and B3s," and hopefully can find this in back issues of "Goldmine Magazine" (mid 1980s if the magazine is indexed). Incidentally, Arfin himself played B3 organ during this time in a band called "Spitball."
Expenses: McDonalds $5
Monday March 26
It's my last week here, so I am trying to cram as much as I can into these final days. I am debating whether to go shopping today at Miromar Outlet, and also Dixie Grocery Liquidator. But as I'm reading emails, I get one from (landlord) Heather, and she says she is working at the Casa Ybel resort today, and the only other day she works is Friday, so I decide to change my plans and head over to Sanibel Island for the day in the hopes of scoring more free beer!
I cook breakfast at home today, so I'll miss a final breakfast at the Island Cow, but that is OK because I'm going to splurge for lunch at Casa Ybel with another order of those delicious seared Ahi tuna tacos. I arrived on the island at about 11 a.m., and my first stop is Billy's to pick up a rental. I spot the owner, Billy, and so re-introduce myself and tell him that I gave him five stars on tripadvisor.com. He shakes my hand and thanks me, then calls over to one of his workers to, "Prepare a bicycle for this gentleman. He's a VIP." I like the sound of that. I get a very nice deluxe aluminum frame cruiser with shock mounts and a nice big fat cushiony seat for my bony rear end.
My first stop is Dolce Tesoro for some good coffee and a slice of pumpkin chocolate chip bread, which normally wouldn't be my choice, but that the little girl behind the counter informs me that it has just come out of the oven, and I'm a sucker for that. It runs me $6, which again reminds me of how paradise often comes with a heavy price tag. The bread is OK, but there's something just fundamentally wrong with mixing pumpkin and chocolate.
I linger at Dolce until about 12:45, then head over on the bike to Casa Ybel. There is definitely some wind today, but it's coming at my back for the first half of the day, and it's an absolutely gorgeous day, with low 80s and low humidity This is what the weather is supposed to be like every day year during a "normal" winter, but it's been unseasonable warm/humid here this winter to the point that even the "locals" have been complaining.
I arrive at Casa Ybel, and the place is jumping. I know it's high season and all, but I thought Monday would be a little more relaxed. Heather and I exchange hellos, but I see she is quite busy. We are able to confirm Saturday between 9 and 10 a.m. for a final walk through the condo to make sure everything is "clean enough" when I clean the condo on Friday.
She pours me a 12 ounce Shock Top, and I read "Hannibal," by Thomas Harris, as I take in the lovely scenery and tropical breezes. In about a half hour, I put in my order for the tacos, and Heather pours me another beer. Tacos arrive, and they are delicious; just as tasty and fresh as the first time. I continue to read, and exchange the occasional pleasantry with Heather. When the bill arrives, there's a $6.75 beverage charge, so while I didn't the beer for free, I think Heather "fudged" the bar tab a bit; maybe her manager was on duty or something, or maybe her "hospitality tank" is nearing empty, I don't know. But in any event, the food and atmosphere are terrific, and this certainly isn't the worse way to pass an afternoon!
It's a long ride back to Billy's, and now the wind is at my face, so I get a pretty darned good workout. After I get the bike returned, I am not all that hungry and decide to just fight the "off-island" traffic rather than spend money on a dinner that I probably won't savor all that much. As I drive back from the condo, I decide I want a steak for dinner, and so stop at the Walmart and buy a slab of top sirloin and a potato for baking.
I have a fun phone conversation with Dawn about plans for starting my journey home on Sunday. I have emailed her to tell her that I plan to make for Macon, Georgia, on the first night rather than Atlanta. The reason for this is that my watch buddy, Dan, from Atlanta, will be out of town and unavailable for trading watches, so there is no sense stressing myself an extra 70 miles on top of 500, especially traveling with the kitties. So I have booked a room at a Motel 6 in Macon. Dawn jokes with me that she's not sure that Macon is yet desegregated, and that I might have to book an extra room because Abby is a dark kitty and might not be able to share the same room with a white man and white kitty.
After that, I watch a couple of episodes of Pawn Stars on the History Channel. I forego a workout tonight because I feel I have worked out plenty with all the biking I have done today.
I am having an interesting email exchange with a woman on match.com right now, who for now I will simply call Mary. She is ... and hold on to your hats folks ... a pastor at a Lutheran church in Southwestern Wisconsin. We have already determined we are not "destined" for one another, but each of us agrees the other is a nice, decent person, and since good friends are often as hard to find as good mates, we decide to correspond. It's a bit surreal to say the least. But we have decided that it would be fun to meet, if for no other reason to compare notes on the more secular aspects of our lives, in which we seem to have some things in common.
It's been a great day today, and I am really tired, so I only catch a couple of Pawn Star episodes, and then head off to bed at 11 p.m. and fall quickly asleep.
Expenses: lunch $24; groceries, $11. Total $35
Tuesday March 27
Today will be my final beach day at Fort Myers Beach, so invite my friend, Carol, to join me. I bring my swim suit and goggles today, and plan to swim in the Gulf for the first time since I have been here. My previous trips to the beach, it has either been too cold, or the water too choppy, or both. But today looks like a perfect weather day, if a little windy (again).
The bike ride along Summerlin Road is pleasant enough, with the wind at my back. But of course this means I'll be peddling into the wind on the way back! I arrive at the beach about 11:30 and stake out a table with an umbrella at the Top O' Mast and order up a bottle of Bud, which I insulate in my new Green Bay Packers beer koozie. I continue reading "Hannibal," getting up to about page 120 before Carol joins me at about 12:30. We order up a veggie thin-crust pizza from the "runner waitress" who works at La Ona across the courtyard. Carol dives into it like a hungry vulture. I swear the only time this woman eats actual food is when we go out and I treat!
After lunch, we decide it's "now or never" as far as swimming, because it looks like a big cloud bank is moving in. Gust of wind are coming up with such intensity that one of the gust completely lifts the umbrella from our table and sends it careening across the deck, hitting one fellow (not seriously) and barely missing a couple of other people. The manager now orders "all umbrellas down" and we must now move out to the beach and rent two chairs and an umbrella which is anchored into the sand (cost: $15).
I go into the men's room at Top O' Mast and change into my swimsuit. Carol has hers on already underneath her slacks and top. So in the water we go, me with my eye goggles because the salt water kind of irritates my eyes. Carol kind of splashes around, going in up to her chest level, but refuses to submerge because of messing up her hair and the makeup job on her face. I go for full immersion because I have neither hairdo nor makeup to worry about, and swim all the way to the marker buoys, about 200 feet from shore, and I estimate the water depth is about 10 feet at that point. It was a nice refreshing swim, and the waves weren't too bad. I made my way back to shore; Carol wants to stay and splash a while longer. I get back to the beach lounges and immediately order up a Bud to get the salt taste off my lips and mouth. Eyes are doing OK thanks to the goggles.
Carol joins me shortly, and we continue our conversation. The DJ suddenly cues up "Baby You Can Leave Your Hat On," by Joe Cocker, and suddenly Carol is up and dancing, so I join her for a quick spin on the sand, and this is very much fun. The generous breeze soon dries out my skin and swim trunks, and I apply another coat of sunscreen, though I can feel that I am burned, despite the initial coating of sunscreen and the semi protection of the umbrella. The sun is a relentless bitch out here. With all the sand and water to reflect the rays, there is simply no escaping her!
I change back into my regular shorts, and we decide to pull up stakes about 4:30, and stop at the Dairy Queen by the pier for a treat. They are having a sale on "Blizzards" during the entire month of March. Buy one at regular price, and get the second for 99 cents. But I absolutely cannot convince Carol to have one because of the carbs. She insists on a small vanilla cone, so the bill is more than needs be, but it's all part of the admission price if you're going to play the dating game.
We walk over the San Carlos bridge together, because she has her car parked on the other side at a free lot. And then we part company. Carol informs me she has jury duty on Friday, and that if she is not picked for duty, she may play "hookie" from work that night because she hasn't had a Friday night off in two years. If that happens, she asks, would I be interested in going out for drinks, music, and dancing that night? Fred Astaire I am not, but how can I deny this woman, who loves to dance and who hasn't a Friday night off since gas was last $3 a gallon, the chance to have a little fun? So I tell her to keep me informed and if indeed she chooses not to work, I will go out with her and give it my best shot.
We part at the bridge, and I begin peddling home along Summerlin Ave., against the wind now. It is tough sledding, but I finally make it back to the condo, a mass of sweat and sunscreen. My ass is completely sore, and I have completely sweated through my shorts, making it looks as though I have totally wet myself. And despite the sunscreen and trying to stay in the shade, I am noticeably burned on my neck, shoulders and chest. Not terribly, but I can feel it. I am glad to have bought a bottle of aloe gel early in my journey here. It feels good, and takes away most of the sting.
I decide to use up some chicken breast from the freezer which I have portioned into four-ounce servings, and so make a quick run to Walmart for a frozen pasta Alfredo dinner entree for a buck. I also pick up one of those Bumblebee tuna salad lunch kits for the gambling cruise tomorrow, and mysteriously the price has increased on that in in last week from $1 to $1.29, an increase of 29 percent. Does anyone else but me notice that Walmart (and I assume other retailers) are constantly fucking with the price tags? I swear to God they have clerks roaming the aisles every night with their little barcode guns and stacks of new bar code strips. I realize it's only pennies or nickels per item, but cumulatively it adds into the millions and, I suppose, helps offset the items that the store decides will be "on sale" that particular week. It's just another reason why, when I leave Walmart, I kind of almost feel I need a shower. Shopping there is all part of a slimy game of smoke-and-mirrors, and they are masters at it.
Back at the condo, I simply add the frozen chicken chunks to the dinner while it is microwaving and ... Voila! ... I now have a fairly passable chicken pasta Alfredo for a buck! I eat this while watching the new episode of Biggest Loser, and it is a pretty good episode tonight, and even manages to make me tear up in a couple of spots. For dessert, I have a version of strawberry shortcake, using a slice of pound cake, some thawed berries from the freezer, and some vanilla ice cream.
Again, no workout this evening as I feel pushed to the limit! I don't know that I'm going to make my goal of 220 pounds by the time I head home, but I'll be close --- within 7 or 8 pounds, and God knows I've been working my ass off while here during my stay between the gym workouts and all the biking. The "problem" is that the food down here has been so good, and I've been partaking with gusto!
I have another email from "Mary," the Lutheran pastor, so I reply out of courtesy, but tell her that I'm pretty tired, and sunburned on top of it, and need to go to bed. I put on a final coat of aloe gel, and head off to bed and doze off pretty quickly. It's back to Fort Myers beach by bike again tomorrow, as I am doing a final "Big M Casino Cruise." I joked with Carol that I should have just booked a night at a beach hotel and stayed there, except I know that it would have run me probably a couple hundred bucks for anything decent! And the bike ride provides a good workout.
Expenses: Beach food and drink: $20; chair/umbrella rental $15, groceries $1; total: $36
Wednesday March 28
Today is my final "Big M Gambling" cruise. I have made reservations. I rise at 7:15, and this morning I change out the kitty litter for what will be the last time here. I skip coffee and breakfast, and just take my morning meds, and pedal as fast as I can to "Marti's" for my reward of caffeine and a morning feast of 2 eggs, sausage, home fries, and whole wheat toast. I pedal the rest of the way to Fort Myers Beach. I walk the bike up the incline of the San Carlos bridge, but when reach the apex, I lift my bike up and over the concrete barrier, then scoot over the barrier myself. I am now in the "live traffic" lane for bikes, with the traffic coming toward me. It's a little scary, but perfectly legal. So I mount the bike and zoom down the other side to Fort Myers Beach, and then over to the boat dock. I have my "coopen" with me, and so get the cruise for the bargain price of $5. Again, it is an absolutely beautiful day.
I board the boat at 9:45, and we leave the dock promptly at 10:30. I use the time to catch up on the blog, and to read a couple of sample chapters I have downloaded onto my Kindle. One is a nonfiction book called "The End of Money," which I found out about from a recent episode of CBS Sunday Morning. The other is a sample chapter of "The Hunger Games," which is not my usual genre (post apocalyptic sci-fi, and juvey lit at that) but I have to at least sample it and find out what the hub-bub is all about. Both samples are excellent, and I will probably end up buying both books.
The casino opens at about 11:45 once we reach international waters. My $50 stake lasts about an hour, but then I put my tail between my legs and leave the table with one pink $2.50 chip left, so I am out $47.50. But our dealer, Joshua, is a very nice fellow, and he was the dealer on the previous cruise where I won $32.50. So it's all in good fun.
At about 1 p.m., I eat my lunch I have brought on board of a tuna salad lunch kit and a Nature Valley protein bar. I spring for a diet Coke for a buck to go with my tuna salad, and have a free cup of coffee to go with my bar. This will hold me until I treat myself to stone crab tonight at "Pincher's Crab Shack." This will be my last stone crab dinner for a while, and I will truly miss this until my next trip down here. As I've said before in this blog, I think stone crab is my favorite treasure of the sea, surpassing even lobster.
I take Summerlin Road the rest of the way back to the condo, and have a fairly quiet night of reading, surfing, and watching a little TV. I think I really lucked out with the condo in terms of having a quiet neighbor next to me. I head to bed. Tomorrow will be shopping day.
Expenses: gambling $47.50; Coke $1; dinner $30. Total $78.50
Bruce
Saturday-Sunday
As is my custom, I lay low on the weekend, reading, answering emails, and catching up on the blog. I start planning a "final week" here, filled with activities, some new, some old favorites. I continue my emailing and researching the "Long Island Sound" of rock music via my musician buddy, Grant Werner, and music historian Richard Arfin. Thanks to Youtube, there is a generous amount of clips showing the various bands:
The Rascals; Vanilla Fudge; The Hassles (with a very young Billy Joel playing the Hammond B3 organ); The Vagrants (with Leslie West on keys); The Rich Kids (with Richard Supa); The Illusion; and others. This sound became what was known as "The Long Island Sound" when these bands finally "hit" and promoters and agents started putting them on tour, and recording them and so forth. The early videos are grainy and kind of "raw," but you can see the early influence of the B3 as a "rock" instrument that would later be taken seriously by more "mainstream" rock bands like Carlos Santana, Three Dog Night, and many others. I can't say that this early style of organ playing is my thing. It's rough, and primitive, and consists of a lot of chord pounding and switching the Leslie back and forth to add the tremelo effect. I much prefer a little (or a lot!) of finger virtuosity, which would come later. The pure "Long Island Sound," is more of a "garage rock" style that many people like, but not this boy. Still, I would like to read Arfin's original series of articles, "Beaches, Bars, and B3s," and hopefully can find this in back issues of "Goldmine Magazine" (mid 1980s if the magazine is indexed). Incidentally, Arfin himself played B3 organ during this time in a band called "Spitball."
Expenses: McDonalds $5
Monday March 26
It's my last week here, so I am trying to cram as much as I can into these final days. I am debating whether to go shopping today at Miromar Outlet, and also Dixie Grocery Liquidator. But as I'm reading emails, I get one from (landlord) Heather, and she says she is working at the Casa Ybel resort today, and the only other day she works is Friday, so I decide to change my plans and head over to Sanibel Island for the day in the hopes of scoring more free beer!
I cook breakfast at home today, so I'll miss a final breakfast at the Island Cow, but that is OK because I'm going to splurge for lunch at Casa Ybel with another order of those delicious seared Ahi tuna tacos. I arrived on the island at about 11 a.m., and my first stop is Billy's to pick up a rental. I spot the owner, Billy, and so re-introduce myself and tell him that I gave him five stars on tripadvisor.com. He shakes my hand and thanks me, then calls over to one of his workers to, "Prepare a bicycle for this gentleman. He's a VIP." I like the sound of that. I get a very nice deluxe aluminum frame cruiser with shock mounts and a nice big fat cushiony seat for my bony rear end.
My first stop is Dolce Tesoro for some good coffee and a slice of pumpkin chocolate chip bread, which normally wouldn't be my choice, but that the little girl behind the counter informs me that it has just come out of the oven, and I'm a sucker for that. It runs me $6, which again reminds me of how paradise often comes with a heavy price tag. The bread is OK, but there's something just fundamentally wrong with mixing pumpkin and chocolate.
I linger at Dolce until about 12:45, then head over on the bike to Casa Ybel. There is definitely some wind today, but it's coming at my back for the first half of the day, and it's an absolutely gorgeous day, with low 80s and low humidity This is what the weather is supposed to be like every day year during a "normal" winter, but it's been unseasonable warm/humid here this winter to the point that even the "locals" have been complaining.
I arrive at Casa Ybel, and the place is jumping. I know it's high season and all, but I thought Monday would be a little more relaxed. Heather and I exchange hellos, but I see she is quite busy. We are able to confirm Saturday between 9 and 10 a.m. for a final walk through the condo to make sure everything is "clean enough" when I clean the condo on Friday.
She pours me a 12 ounce Shock Top, and I read "Hannibal," by Thomas Harris, as I take in the lovely scenery and tropical breezes. In about a half hour, I put in my order for the tacos, and Heather pours me another beer. Tacos arrive, and they are delicious; just as tasty and fresh as the first time. I continue to read, and exchange the occasional pleasantry with Heather. When the bill arrives, there's a $6.75 beverage charge, so while I didn't the beer for free, I think Heather "fudged" the bar tab a bit; maybe her manager was on duty or something, or maybe her "hospitality tank" is nearing empty, I don't know. But in any event, the food and atmosphere are terrific, and this certainly isn't the worse way to pass an afternoon!
It's a long ride back to Billy's, and now the wind is at my face, so I get a pretty darned good workout. After I get the bike returned, I am not all that hungry and decide to just fight the "off-island" traffic rather than spend money on a dinner that I probably won't savor all that much. As I drive back from the condo, I decide I want a steak for dinner, and so stop at the Walmart and buy a slab of top sirloin and a potato for baking.
I have a fun phone conversation with Dawn about plans for starting my journey home on Sunday. I have emailed her to tell her that I plan to make for Macon, Georgia, on the first night rather than Atlanta. The reason for this is that my watch buddy, Dan, from Atlanta, will be out of town and unavailable for trading watches, so there is no sense stressing myself an extra 70 miles on top of 500, especially traveling with the kitties. So I have booked a room at a Motel 6 in Macon. Dawn jokes with me that she's not sure that Macon is yet desegregated, and that I might have to book an extra room because Abby is a dark kitty and might not be able to share the same room with a white man and white kitty.
After that, I watch a couple of episodes of Pawn Stars on the History Channel. I forego a workout tonight because I feel I have worked out plenty with all the biking I have done today.
I am having an interesting email exchange with a woman on match.com right now, who for now I will simply call Mary. She is ... and hold on to your hats folks ... a pastor at a Lutheran church in Southwestern Wisconsin. We have already determined we are not "destined" for one another, but each of us agrees the other is a nice, decent person, and since good friends are often as hard to find as good mates, we decide to correspond. It's a bit surreal to say the least. But we have decided that it would be fun to meet, if for no other reason to compare notes on the more secular aspects of our lives, in which we seem to have some things in common.
It's been a great day today, and I am really tired, so I only catch a couple of Pawn Star episodes, and then head off to bed at 11 p.m. and fall quickly asleep.
Expenses: lunch $24; groceries, $11. Total $35
Tuesday March 27
Today will be my final beach day at Fort Myers Beach, so invite my friend, Carol, to join me. I bring my swim suit and goggles today, and plan to swim in the Gulf for the first time since I have been here. My previous trips to the beach, it has either been too cold, or the water too choppy, or both. But today looks like a perfect weather day, if a little windy (again).
The bike ride along Summerlin Road is pleasant enough, with the wind at my back. But of course this means I'll be peddling into the wind on the way back! I arrive at the beach about 11:30 and stake out a table with an umbrella at the Top O' Mast and order up a bottle of Bud, which I insulate in my new Green Bay Packers beer koozie. I continue reading "Hannibal," getting up to about page 120 before Carol joins me at about 12:30. We order up a veggie thin-crust pizza from the "runner waitress" who works at La Ona across the courtyard. Carol dives into it like a hungry vulture. I swear the only time this woman eats actual food is when we go out and I treat!
After lunch, we decide it's "now or never" as far as swimming, because it looks like a big cloud bank is moving in. Gust of wind are coming up with such intensity that one of the gust completely lifts the umbrella from our table and sends it careening across the deck, hitting one fellow (not seriously) and barely missing a couple of other people. The manager now orders "all umbrellas down" and we must now move out to the beach and rent two chairs and an umbrella which is anchored into the sand (cost: $15).
I go into the men's room at Top O' Mast and change into my swimsuit. Carol has hers on already underneath her slacks and top. So in the water we go, me with my eye goggles because the salt water kind of irritates my eyes. Carol kind of splashes around, going in up to her chest level, but refuses to submerge because of messing up her hair and the makeup job on her face. I go for full immersion because I have neither hairdo nor makeup to worry about, and swim all the way to the marker buoys, about 200 feet from shore, and I estimate the water depth is about 10 feet at that point. It was a nice refreshing swim, and the waves weren't too bad. I made my way back to shore; Carol wants to stay and splash a while longer. I get back to the beach lounges and immediately order up a Bud to get the salt taste off my lips and mouth. Eyes are doing OK thanks to the goggles.
Carol joins me shortly, and we continue our conversation. The DJ suddenly cues up "Baby You Can Leave Your Hat On," by Joe Cocker, and suddenly Carol is up and dancing, so I join her for a quick spin on the sand, and this is very much fun. The generous breeze soon dries out my skin and swim trunks, and I apply another coat of sunscreen, though I can feel that I am burned, despite the initial coating of sunscreen and the semi protection of the umbrella. The sun is a relentless bitch out here. With all the sand and water to reflect the rays, there is simply no escaping her!
I change back into my regular shorts, and we decide to pull up stakes about 4:30, and stop at the Dairy Queen by the pier for a treat. They are having a sale on "Blizzards" during the entire month of March. Buy one at regular price, and get the second for 99 cents. But I absolutely cannot convince Carol to have one because of the carbs. She insists on a small vanilla cone, so the bill is more than needs be, but it's all part of the admission price if you're going to play the dating game.
We walk over the San Carlos bridge together, because she has her car parked on the other side at a free lot. And then we part company. Carol informs me she has jury duty on Friday, and that if she is not picked for duty, she may play "hookie" from work that night because she hasn't had a Friday night off in two years. If that happens, she asks, would I be interested in going out for drinks, music, and dancing that night? Fred Astaire I am not, but how can I deny this woman, who loves to dance and who hasn't a Friday night off since gas was last $3 a gallon, the chance to have a little fun? So I tell her to keep me informed and if indeed she chooses not to work, I will go out with her and give it my best shot.
We part at the bridge, and I begin peddling home along Summerlin Ave., against the wind now. It is tough sledding, but I finally make it back to the condo, a mass of sweat and sunscreen. My ass is completely sore, and I have completely sweated through my shorts, making it looks as though I have totally wet myself. And despite the sunscreen and trying to stay in the shade, I am noticeably burned on my neck, shoulders and chest. Not terribly, but I can feel it. I am glad to have bought a bottle of aloe gel early in my journey here. It feels good, and takes away most of the sting.
I decide to use up some chicken breast from the freezer which I have portioned into four-ounce servings, and so make a quick run to Walmart for a frozen pasta Alfredo dinner entree for a buck. I also pick up one of those Bumblebee tuna salad lunch kits for the gambling cruise tomorrow, and mysteriously the price has increased on that in in last week from $1 to $1.29, an increase of 29 percent. Does anyone else but me notice that Walmart (and I assume other retailers) are constantly fucking with the price tags? I swear to God they have clerks roaming the aisles every night with their little barcode guns and stacks of new bar code strips. I realize it's only pennies or nickels per item, but cumulatively it adds into the millions and, I suppose, helps offset the items that the store decides will be "on sale" that particular week. It's just another reason why, when I leave Walmart, I kind of almost feel I need a shower. Shopping there is all part of a slimy game of smoke-and-mirrors, and they are masters at it.
Back at the condo, I simply add the frozen chicken chunks to the dinner while it is microwaving and ... Voila! ... I now have a fairly passable chicken pasta Alfredo for a buck! I eat this while watching the new episode of Biggest Loser, and it is a pretty good episode tonight, and even manages to make me tear up in a couple of spots. For dessert, I have a version of strawberry shortcake, using a slice of pound cake, some thawed berries from the freezer, and some vanilla ice cream.
Again, no workout this evening as I feel pushed to the limit! I don't know that I'm going to make my goal of 220 pounds by the time I head home, but I'll be close --- within 7 or 8 pounds, and God knows I've been working my ass off while here during my stay between the gym workouts and all the biking. The "problem" is that the food down here has been so good, and I've been partaking with gusto!
I have another email from "Mary," the Lutheran pastor, so I reply out of courtesy, but tell her that I'm pretty tired, and sunburned on top of it, and need to go to bed. I put on a final coat of aloe gel, and head off to bed and doze off pretty quickly. It's back to Fort Myers beach by bike again tomorrow, as I am doing a final "Big M Casino Cruise." I joked with Carol that I should have just booked a night at a beach hotel and stayed there, except I know that it would have run me probably a couple hundred bucks for anything decent! And the bike ride provides a good workout.
Expenses: Beach food and drink: $20; chair/umbrella rental $15, groceries $1; total: $36
Wednesday March 28
Today is my final "Big M Gambling" cruise. I have made reservations. I rise at 7:15, and this morning I change out the kitty litter for what will be the last time here. I skip coffee and breakfast, and just take my morning meds, and pedal as fast as I can to "Marti's" for my reward of caffeine and a morning feast of 2 eggs, sausage, home fries, and whole wheat toast. I pedal the rest of the way to Fort Myers Beach. I walk the bike up the incline of the San Carlos bridge, but when reach the apex, I lift my bike up and over the concrete barrier, then scoot over the barrier myself. I am now in the "live traffic" lane for bikes, with the traffic coming toward me. It's a little scary, but perfectly legal. So I mount the bike and zoom down the other side to Fort Myers Beach, and then over to the boat dock. I have my "coopen" with me, and so get the cruise for the bargain price of $5. Again, it is an absolutely beautiful day.
I board the boat at 9:45, and we leave the dock promptly at 10:30. I use the time to catch up on the blog, and to read a couple of sample chapters I have downloaded onto my Kindle. One is a nonfiction book called "The End of Money," which I found out about from a recent episode of CBS Sunday Morning. The other is a sample chapter of "The Hunger Games," which is not my usual genre (post apocalyptic sci-fi, and juvey lit at that) but I have to at least sample it and find out what the hub-bub is all about. Both samples are excellent, and I will probably end up buying both books.
The casino opens at about 11:45 once we reach international waters. My $50 stake lasts about an hour, but then I put my tail between my legs and leave the table with one pink $2.50 chip left, so I am out $47.50. But our dealer, Joshua, is a very nice fellow, and he was the dealer on the previous cruise where I won $32.50. So it's all in good fun.
At about 1 p.m., I eat my lunch I have brought on board of a tuna salad lunch kit and a Nature Valley protein bar. I spring for a diet Coke for a buck to go with my tuna salad, and have a free cup of coffee to go with my bar. This will hold me until I treat myself to stone crab tonight at "Pincher's Crab Shack." This will be my last stone crab dinner for a while, and I will truly miss this until my next trip down here. As I've said before in this blog, I think stone crab is my favorite treasure of the sea, surpassing even lobster.
I take Summerlin Road the rest of the way back to the condo, and have a fairly quiet night of reading, surfing, and watching a little TV. I think I really lucked out with the condo in terms of having a quiet neighbor next to me. I head to bed. Tomorrow will be shopping day.
Expenses: gambling $47.50; Coke $1; dinner $30. Total $78.50
Bruce
Monday, April 2, 2012
My Last Farmers Market
Friday March 23
I rise and pedal my bike to what will be my last Farmers market at Lake Park. I have a bran muffin, coffee, and a pint container of strawberries. All very delicious. I hook up on last time with my musician buddy, Grant, for whom this is his final performance, and he and wife (who sells soap at the market) will be heading back to the Hamptons on Long Island. I don't buy any produce at the market today, because I don't think I will finish it in time for my departure.
I bike back to the condo, then set out for the Fleamasters Flea Market. Mostly to give Randy, the bike dealer, a "heads up" that I'll be bringing my bicycle back next Friday, so that he will be sure to have $50 with him to pay me back half the purchase price of the bike. He remembers the bike, the Murray "Westport," and says it will be no problem, in fact he will be happy to have the bike back, as he has a particular fondness for vintage Murray bikes. I also check with Chris, the watch dealer (he has nothing new) and also Chris, the bookseller, to see if he has a copy of Eric Larson's "In the Garden of Beasts," but it's too new for him to have at this point.
I also buy a cheap pair of binoculars for $2 from a dealer there who just has a whole bunch of "stuff" in her booth. My friend, Carol, has been talking about possibly going out on a "nature outing" for some sort for our final date, possibly even an "eco-Tour" of the Everglades. An "eco-tour" is a tour of the 'Glades minus the popular airboat that everyone thinks of. An airboat is really not an environmentally friendly way to tour the Everglades. It's so loud, that the boat scares off everything you might want to see, with the exception of the alligators, who apparently aren't afraid of much of anything. If you want to see birds, mammals, and any chance of seeing a Florida panther, a much quieter mode of transportation is required ... a shallow bottom boat with a small (even electric) motor, or even kayak. The only problem with the eco-tour is that they are kind of expensive -- in the $200 range -- and I don't know if Carol can afford that or not. But we are also talking about a couple of other nature tours, including the "Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary," which is by Bonita Springs (a little south of Fort Myers) and run by the Audubon Society and is (obviously) a bird sanctuary more than anything else. I'll need a pair of binoculars regardless of where we go, if I have any hopes of seeing anything. The pair I get is basically one level up from a kid's toy, but they will do the job and they are disposable.
I have lunch at the German lady's food booth where they have the milk, only this time I order a full lunch of a ham-n-cheese quiche with a small side salad and hunk of brown bread. It is all very delicious.
I also stop by the booth that sells specialty games and buy a deluxe Scrabble game that I am anxious to take home and try with my family and also my friend Amy who plays Scrabble. I try to use my Chase Visa credit card, and the purchase is declined, so it appears Chase has made it's decision as to whether I am creditworthy enough to assume responsibility for the credit card which has been in Gwen's name since the beginning. And the answer is no. So now I will have to open a secured credit card when I get back to Wisconsin. I hate having to put $2K of my own money into a non-interest-bearing account to secure a credit card, but I absolutely cannot be without a credit card for travel. Car rental companies won't take them for renting a car, and there are other instances where you are better off using a credit rather than a debit card because you have more dispute privileges with a credit card.
Back at the condo,I get a nice email from Richard Arfin from the Long Island Music Hall of Fame, with regard to my "Beaches Bars and B3s" query. Turns out this was a series of articles he wrote for "Goldmine" magazine about the particular band sound that was coming out of Long Island in the 1960s. It was was kind of splintered, "garage rock" effort that coalesced and finally "hit" and was promoted up into the '70s, and included bands like Vanilla Fudge, the Rascals, the Vagrants, and the Hassles, which included a little known keyboardist at the time by the name of Billy Joel, who played a B3 organ (but who didn't know how to play the pedals) who of course later returned to his native instrument, the piano, and rest, as they say, is history. Arfin's articles were eventually combined into one article that ran in Rolling Stone magazine about the "Long Island Sound," which the LI Music Hall of Fame is now seeking to promote and preserve. Anyway, I make a few passes through Youtube and watch/listen, and I don't think this is my "thing," I think this one of those types of music you either really love or hate. It's sounds like raw, "garage rock" music to me, and much of the organ sound is just heavy handed chording with switching the Leslie speaker on and off for tremelo effect. There is very little finger virtuosity going on, in the style of "jazz-rock" organ, ala "Green Eyed Lady" and so forth, of the kind of organ playing I prefer. But it was a good effort, and it was certainly fun seeing Billy Joel when he must have still been a teenager! I'd still like to read Arfin's original articles if I can find them. "Goldmne" magazine is still in business, by the way, and I'm sure back issues can be referenced somehow. Arfin also tells me his articles may be brought back to the website at some point. Arfin himself was a Hammond B3 organ player for a LI rock band called "Spitball." He remembers those days fondly, but writes "One thing I distinctly remember was having to transport that motherfucker and the Leslie to gigs. I don't miss that."
So of course I cc my buddy Grant on all this, and he is very interested and wants to stay in touch.
Expenses: breakfast $6, lunch $8; Scrabble game $41. Total: $55
Bruce
I rise and pedal my bike to what will be my last Farmers market at Lake Park. I have a bran muffin, coffee, and a pint container of strawberries. All very delicious. I hook up on last time with my musician buddy, Grant, for whom this is his final performance, and he and wife (who sells soap at the market) will be heading back to the Hamptons on Long Island. I don't buy any produce at the market today, because I don't think I will finish it in time for my departure.
I bike back to the condo, then set out for the Fleamasters Flea Market. Mostly to give Randy, the bike dealer, a "heads up" that I'll be bringing my bicycle back next Friday, so that he will be sure to have $50 with him to pay me back half the purchase price of the bike. He remembers the bike, the Murray "Westport," and says it will be no problem, in fact he will be happy to have the bike back, as he has a particular fondness for vintage Murray bikes. I also check with Chris, the watch dealer (he has nothing new) and also Chris, the bookseller, to see if he has a copy of Eric Larson's "In the Garden of Beasts," but it's too new for him to have at this point.
I also buy a cheap pair of binoculars for $2 from a dealer there who just has a whole bunch of "stuff" in her booth. My friend, Carol, has been talking about possibly going out on a "nature outing" for some sort for our final date, possibly even an "eco-Tour" of the Everglades. An "eco-tour" is a tour of the 'Glades minus the popular airboat that everyone thinks of. An airboat is really not an environmentally friendly way to tour the Everglades. It's so loud, that the boat scares off everything you might want to see, with the exception of the alligators, who apparently aren't afraid of much of anything. If you want to see birds, mammals, and any chance of seeing a Florida panther, a much quieter mode of transportation is required ... a shallow bottom boat with a small (even electric) motor, or even kayak. The only problem with the eco-tour is that they are kind of expensive -- in the $200 range -- and I don't know if Carol can afford that or not. But we are also talking about a couple of other nature tours, including the "Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary," which is by Bonita Springs (a little south of Fort Myers) and run by the Audubon Society and is (obviously) a bird sanctuary more than anything else. I'll need a pair of binoculars regardless of where we go, if I have any hopes of seeing anything. The pair I get is basically one level up from a kid's toy, but they will do the job and they are disposable.
I have lunch at the German lady's food booth where they have the milk, only this time I order a full lunch of a ham-n-cheese quiche with a small side salad and hunk of brown bread. It is all very delicious.
I also stop by the booth that sells specialty games and buy a deluxe Scrabble game that I am anxious to take home and try with my family and also my friend Amy who plays Scrabble. I try to use my Chase Visa credit card, and the purchase is declined, so it appears Chase has made it's decision as to whether I am creditworthy enough to assume responsibility for the credit card which has been in Gwen's name since the beginning. And the answer is no. So now I will have to open a secured credit card when I get back to Wisconsin. I hate having to put $2K of my own money into a non-interest-bearing account to secure a credit card, but I absolutely cannot be without a credit card for travel. Car rental companies won't take them for renting a car, and there are other instances where you are better off using a credit rather than a debit card because you have more dispute privileges with a credit card.
Back at the condo,I get a nice email from Richard Arfin from the Long Island Music Hall of Fame, with regard to my "Beaches Bars and B3s" query. Turns out this was a series of articles he wrote for "Goldmine" magazine about the particular band sound that was coming out of Long Island in the 1960s. It was was kind of splintered, "garage rock" effort that coalesced and finally "hit" and was promoted up into the '70s, and included bands like Vanilla Fudge, the Rascals, the Vagrants, and the Hassles, which included a little known keyboardist at the time by the name of Billy Joel, who played a B3 organ (but who didn't know how to play the pedals) who of course later returned to his native instrument, the piano, and rest, as they say, is history. Arfin's articles were eventually combined into one article that ran in Rolling Stone magazine about the "Long Island Sound," which the LI Music Hall of Fame is now seeking to promote and preserve. Anyway, I make a few passes through Youtube and watch/listen, and I don't think this is my "thing," I think this one of those types of music you either really love or hate. It's sounds like raw, "garage rock" music to me, and much of the organ sound is just heavy handed chording with switching the Leslie speaker on and off for tremelo effect. There is very little finger virtuosity going on, in the style of "jazz-rock" organ, ala "Green Eyed Lady" and so forth, of the kind of organ playing I prefer. But it was a good effort, and it was certainly fun seeing Billy Joel when he must have still been a teenager! I'd still like to read Arfin's original articles if I can find them. "Goldmne" magazine is still in business, by the way, and I'm sure back issues can be referenced somehow. Arfin also tells me his articles may be brought back to the website at some point. Arfin himself was a Hammond B3 organ player for a LI rock band called "Spitball." He remembers those days fondly, but writes "One thing I distinctly remember was having to transport that motherfucker and the Leslie to gigs. I don't miss that."
So of course I cc my buddy Grant on all this, and he is very interested and wants to stay in touch.
Expenses: breakfast $6, lunch $8; Scrabble game $41. Total: $55
Bruce
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Finished the Steve Jobs biography
Thursday March 22
Not too much to report today, other than I finished the Steve Jobs biography, by Walter Isaacson. The sons of bitches (both Jobs and Isaacson) had me tearing up at the end. It really is an amazing story, both Jobs’s own life, and the evolution of Apple and its products. I’m by no means ready to convert from the PC world, but I surely have an appreciation for what Jobs and Apple were/are trying to do. I certainly have a better understanding of some basic computer concepts. And I think it settled once and for all whether I “need” an I-Pad (or tablet in the PC world) and the answer is no, at least not at this time. The issue for the me is that a tablet seems mostly to be a "passive" device. You browse content, or watch TV, or read books. And that's all fine. But there is no keyboard (or at best a very rudimentary that you can use to type in passwords and so forth) and thus no (or very limited) outlet for creating things. Which, as Isaacson points out, is ironic in that the Apple computer was originally invented so that people could create. There was no access to the Internet at the time, so the thrust of the applications was toward creating information... writing, making spreadsheets, drawing, and so forth. And now these latest tablets are more or less of an entertaining device. Which is fine. But I can get that on a notebook or "netbook" computer, and still have the ability to create.
So anyway, I list the book on eBay and wish to sell it while it is still somewhat of a "hot" item, and I will use the proceeds to buy another book, probably a Kindle download. So thank you, (sister) Dawn for the Xmas gift. You will end up giving me two books to read. I am thinking of downloading "The Hunger Games," because the movie opens tomorrow in "sneak preview," and while post-apocalyptic scifi (and juvenile literature at that) is not my usual genre, I'm curious to read what all the hub-bub is about.
I also fire off an email query to the Long Island Music Hall of Fame to see if I can find out any more info about this book, "Beaches, Bars, and B3s" that I heard about from this musician that I met at the weekly farmers' market. When I googled that title, the Hall of Fame came up as the source. It's supposed to be a book about distinctive type of rock-n-roll music that came out of Long Island in the 1960s and '70s by bands which tended to rely on the Hammond B3 organ for extra "punch." I want to find out what that's all about. If nothing else, it's a great title for a book! (Nothing comes up on Amazon.com, by the way.
No expenses today.
Bruce
Not too much to report today, other than I finished the Steve Jobs biography, by Walter Isaacson. The sons of bitches (both Jobs and Isaacson) had me tearing up at the end. It really is an amazing story, both Jobs’s own life, and the evolution of Apple and its products. I’m by no means ready to convert from the PC world, but I surely have an appreciation for what Jobs and Apple were/are trying to do. I certainly have a better understanding of some basic computer concepts. And I think it settled once and for all whether I “need” an I-Pad (or tablet in the PC world) and the answer is no, at least not at this time. The issue for the me is that a tablet seems mostly to be a "passive" device. You browse content, or watch TV, or read books. And that's all fine. But there is no keyboard (or at best a very rudimentary that you can use to type in passwords and so forth) and thus no (or very limited) outlet for creating things. Which, as Isaacson points out, is ironic in that the Apple computer was originally invented so that people could create. There was no access to the Internet at the time, so the thrust of the applications was toward creating information... writing, making spreadsheets, drawing, and so forth. And now these latest tablets are more or less of an entertaining device. Which is fine. But I can get that on a notebook or "netbook" computer, and still have the ability to create.
So anyway, I list the book on eBay and wish to sell it while it is still somewhat of a "hot" item, and I will use the proceeds to buy another book, probably a Kindle download. So thank you, (sister) Dawn for the Xmas gift. You will end up giving me two books to read. I am thinking of downloading "The Hunger Games," because the movie opens tomorrow in "sneak preview," and while post-apocalyptic scifi (and juvenile literature at that) is not my usual genre, I'm curious to read what all the hub-bub is about.
I also fire off an email query to the Long Island Music Hall of Fame to see if I can find out any more info about this book, "Beaches, Bars, and B3s" that I heard about from this musician that I met at the weekly farmers' market. When I googled that title, the Hall of Fame came up as the source. It's supposed to be a book about distinctive type of rock-n-roll music that came out of Long Island in the 1960s and '70s by bands which tended to rely on the Hammond B3 organ for extra "punch." I want to find out what that's all about. If nothing else, it's a great title for a book! (Nothing comes up on Amazon.com, by the way.
No expenses today.
Bruce
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Cruise Day
Wednesday March 21
Today is gambling cruise day, and I'm looking forward to a "win" after last week's $50 loss. I leave the condo about 7:45 on my bike and arrive at Marti's Family Restaurant and have their #1 special and coffee. That comes to $6.50 plus a dollar tip.
I cross over the bridge to Fort Myers Beach and arrive at the dock about 9:30. I pull out my "coopen" and get the cruise for five bucks. I go through security, and I am up on deck 3 by about 9:45. I pass the time by reading and typing out blog entries, while the deck fills up with fellow gamblers. We're off at 10:30, and the casino opens are around 11:45 once we reach international water. I play blackjack, and decide to quit when I am $32.50 ahead. I had it in my head to try and double my stake of $50, but I think this is about the best I am going to do. As before, we have a nice table of players, and a congenial dealer by the name of "Joshua" who dealt blackjack in Vegas for 7 years, including a fairly long stint at the Luxor. So we compare notes on our Vegas experiences. He says he misses Vegas, so I'm not really sure what brought him here. He doesn't offer, and I don't ask because I always worry that the answer will be something like "paternity suit," or "mother is dying of cancer" or something like that.
I eat my little "carry-on" lunch of tuna salad, crackers, a protein bar, and free coffee at about 1 p.m., and this is fine and sufficiently satisfying. There are many dolphins swimming alongside the ship today, and these are very fun to watch. I continue to read and finish "Assassin's Shadow," by Randy White. We dock at 4:30. It is spitting rain at Fort Myers Beach, and the beachgoers are folding up their chairs and umbrellas and heading off the key. I hop on my bike and hot-pedal it over the bridge and to Pincher's Crab Shack on San Carlos just as the heavens open and this little misting turns into a full blown shower. I cover my bike seat with a plastic bag so that my ass won't get totally soaked when I return to ride the rest of the way home.
Inside Pincher's, I enjoy a feast of stone crab. The bill comes to $31.53, but I leave “Tasha,” my nubile young waitress who kept touching me on the shoulder (all part of her plan, I’m sure), a $6 tip. So the winnings didn’t quite cover the $37.53 bill, but almost. I cracked ALL the stone crab ahead of time, until I had this lovely mound of ambrosia from the sea on my plate. (Tasha admired my handiwork at a couple points during this approximately half-hour-long process.) I poured melted butter over this mini mountain of crab, and spritzed it with juice from a fresh lemon wedge. Somewhere, angels wept. For my sides, I chose baked beans and cole slaw. I washed the whole thing down with two 12-ounce “Shock Top” beers served in chilled mugs. I had a coopen from a local flyer for a free slice of key lime pie. It was the “bimini” variety, where they fold the sweetened lime juice into whipped cream, so the pie is kind of “fluffy.” I prefer the classic custard filling, but this was still very good, and I certainly couldn’t complain about the price. (It’s normally $4.50.) As I am eating dessert, I am even treated to a rainbow, as the rain has stopped and the sun is out again.
About the only thing I don't like about the place is that it's one of these "Kids Eat Free" places, and of course they plaster this on big signs at the front of their restaurant. So of course there are throngs of rugrats running around the places, especially at the time I stop there, which is about 5 p.m. The kid's menu is a limited choice thing, so about the closest thing to crab legs they can get is fish sticks, but the parents love this stuff, and I suppose it's a real bonanza to those who bring in 3 or 4 kids. So it's kind of a drag knowing that us "kidless" patrons are subsidizing all of this. But I have to admit, the stone crabs here are delicious. I haven't tried anything else, so I don't know about the rest of their menu.
I peddle the rest of the way back to the condo, and enjoy a relaxing evening with the kitties.
Expenses/winnings: Breakfast, $7.50; dinner $37.50. Subtotal $45.00, offset with $32.50 in casino winnings. Net expenses: $12.50.
Bruce
Today is gambling cruise day, and I'm looking forward to a "win" after last week's $50 loss. I leave the condo about 7:45 on my bike and arrive at Marti's Family Restaurant and have their #1 special and coffee. That comes to $6.50 plus a dollar tip.
I cross over the bridge to Fort Myers Beach and arrive at the dock about 9:30. I pull out my "coopen" and get the cruise for five bucks. I go through security, and I am up on deck 3 by about 9:45. I pass the time by reading and typing out blog entries, while the deck fills up with fellow gamblers. We're off at 10:30, and the casino opens are around 11:45 once we reach international water. I play blackjack, and decide to quit when I am $32.50 ahead. I had it in my head to try and double my stake of $50, but I think this is about the best I am going to do. As before, we have a nice table of players, and a congenial dealer by the name of "Joshua" who dealt blackjack in Vegas for 7 years, including a fairly long stint at the Luxor. So we compare notes on our Vegas experiences. He says he misses Vegas, so I'm not really sure what brought him here. He doesn't offer, and I don't ask because I always worry that the answer will be something like "paternity suit," or "mother is dying of cancer" or something like that.
I eat my little "carry-on" lunch of tuna salad, crackers, a protein bar, and free coffee at about 1 p.m., and this is fine and sufficiently satisfying. There are many dolphins swimming alongside the ship today, and these are very fun to watch. I continue to read and finish "Assassin's Shadow," by Randy White. We dock at 4:30. It is spitting rain at Fort Myers Beach, and the beachgoers are folding up their chairs and umbrellas and heading off the key. I hop on my bike and hot-pedal it over the bridge and to Pincher's Crab Shack on San Carlos just as the heavens open and this little misting turns into a full blown shower. I cover my bike seat with a plastic bag so that my ass won't get totally soaked when I return to ride the rest of the way home.
Inside Pincher's, I enjoy a feast of stone crab. The bill comes to $31.53, but I leave “Tasha,” my nubile young waitress who kept touching me on the shoulder (all part of her plan, I’m sure), a $6 tip. So the winnings didn’t quite cover the $37.53 bill, but almost. I cracked ALL the stone crab ahead of time, until I had this lovely mound of ambrosia from the sea on my plate. (Tasha admired my handiwork at a couple points during this approximately half-hour-long process.) I poured melted butter over this mini mountain of crab, and spritzed it with juice from a fresh lemon wedge. Somewhere, angels wept. For my sides, I chose baked beans and cole slaw. I washed the whole thing down with two 12-ounce “Shock Top” beers served in chilled mugs. I had a coopen from a local flyer for a free slice of key lime pie. It was the “bimini” variety, where they fold the sweetened lime juice into whipped cream, so the pie is kind of “fluffy.” I prefer the classic custard filling, but this was still very good, and I certainly couldn’t complain about the price. (It’s normally $4.50.) As I am eating dessert, I am even treated to a rainbow, as the rain has stopped and the sun is out again.
About the only thing I don't like about the place is that it's one of these "Kids Eat Free" places, and of course they plaster this on big signs at the front of their restaurant. So of course there are throngs of rugrats running around the places, especially at the time I stop there, which is about 5 p.m. The kid's menu is a limited choice thing, so about the closest thing to crab legs they can get is fish sticks, but the parents love this stuff, and I suppose it's a real bonanza to those who bring in 3 or 4 kids. So it's kind of a drag knowing that us "kidless" patrons are subsidizing all of this. But I have to admit, the stone crabs here are delicious. I haven't tried anything else, so I don't know about the rest of their menu.
I peddle the rest of the way back to the condo, and enjoy a relaxing evening with the kitties.
Expenses/winnings: Breakfast, $7.50; dinner $37.50. Subtotal $45.00, offset with $32.50 in casino winnings. Net expenses: $12.50.
Bruce
Monday, March 26, 2012
The Match Game
Tuesday March 20
I spend a little bit of time today on the "match" dating website in preparation to end my one-year experience with them, including my little "experiment" down here in Florida these last four months, which I would have to characterize as a “qualified failure.”
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh. Perhaps “another chapter in the continuing education of Bruce.” My time with Carol certainly has had its highlights, but a serious relationship between us is out of the question. I did have one face-to-face meeting with a woman from Naples, but I would say that was more of a meeting to compare notes than anything else. And I had a nice email exchange with a couple of other women down here, but they fizzled ... fell off the face of the earth is more like it.
The simple fact is that I have a rather unique situation in that I am extremely mobile, and not tied down with job, kids, or grandkids. Most people I've met have at least one of those, and the thought of living the kind of rather vagabond lifestyle that I do -- the notion of which is certainly appealing to many people on theoretical level -- is in reality simply incomprehensible to them. I’ve had no better luck “selling” it down here than I did “up there.” So the Match subscription ends April 5, and I'm just going to let it lapse. For the last two weeks of my membership, I changed my search criteria back to “Madison” with a 50-mile search radius, just for the heck of it. And guess what happened? After 24 hours, Match came up with eight matches, five of whom I had already rejected (or vice versa)! So how sad/pathetic/worthless (whatever) is that? Like my friend Amy told me, after a while, it’s kind of like monitoring the MLS real estate listings too closely. After a while, everything starts to look the same because basically, well, it is! Time to give it a rest. If I don't find any prospects, I can always come back to Match in say a year or so, and hopefully the "herd" will have replenished by then with some fresh stock. A rather coarse analogy, I'll admit, but it fits.
I’m not complaining, at least not too loudly! The whole experience was definitely worthwhile (I ended up with a good friend out of it). I found out more about myself, and certainly more about the subtleties and complexities of human nature/behavior. Certainly better (and more fun!) than a Psych 101 course.
In preparation for my cruise day tomorrow, I stop at the Walmart grocery and buy one of those Bumblebee tuna salad "lunch kits" (with crackers) for a buck. That will be my "lunch" aboard the ship, along with a granola/protein bar from the pantry (I am trying those new Nature Valley Protein Bars, and I have to say they are quite delicious. I am tempted to send them a letter or email telling them how much I like them, but I fear such action will bring an immediate halt to their production. For, as George Carlin so aptly put it, "the job of today's marketer is to find out what I like, and stop making it."
All in all, a nice pleasant day.
Expenses: groceries: $5. Total: $5.
Bruce
I spend a little bit of time today on the "match" dating website in preparation to end my one-year experience with them, including my little "experiment" down here in Florida these last four months, which I would have to characterize as a “qualified failure.”
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh. Perhaps “another chapter in the continuing education of Bruce.” My time with Carol certainly has had its highlights, but a serious relationship between us is out of the question. I did have one face-to-face meeting with a woman from Naples, but I would say that was more of a meeting to compare notes than anything else. And I had a nice email exchange with a couple of other women down here, but they fizzled ... fell off the face of the earth is more like it.
The simple fact is that I have a rather unique situation in that I am extremely mobile, and not tied down with job, kids, or grandkids. Most people I've met have at least one of those, and the thought of living the kind of rather vagabond lifestyle that I do -- the notion of which is certainly appealing to many people on theoretical level -- is in reality simply incomprehensible to them. I’ve had no better luck “selling” it down here than I did “up there.” So the Match subscription ends April 5, and I'm just going to let it lapse. For the last two weeks of my membership, I changed my search criteria back to “Madison” with a 50-mile search radius, just for the heck of it. And guess what happened? After 24 hours, Match came up with eight matches, five of whom I had already rejected (or vice versa)! So how sad/pathetic/worthless (whatever) is that? Like my friend Amy told me, after a while, it’s kind of like monitoring the MLS real estate listings too closely. After a while, everything starts to look the same because basically, well, it is! Time to give it a rest. If I don't find any prospects, I can always come back to Match in say a year or so, and hopefully the "herd" will have replenished by then with some fresh stock. A rather coarse analogy, I'll admit, but it fits.
I’m not complaining, at least not too loudly! The whole experience was definitely worthwhile (I ended up with a good friend out of it). I found out more about myself, and certainly more about the subtleties and complexities of human nature/behavior. Certainly better (and more fun!) than a Psych 101 course.
In preparation for my cruise day tomorrow, I stop at the Walmart grocery and buy one of those Bumblebee tuna salad "lunch kits" (with crackers) for a buck. That will be my "lunch" aboard the ship, along with a granola/protein bar from the pantry (I am trying those new Nature Valley Protein Bars, and I have to say they are quite delicious. I am tempted to send them a letter or email telling them how much I like them, but I fear such action will bring an immediate halt to their production. For, as George Carlin so aptly put it, "the job of today's marketer is to find out what I like, and stop making it."
All in all, a nice pleasant day.
Expenses: groceries: $5. Total: $5.
Bruce
Sunday, March 25, 2012
A $3,000 Bottle of Brandy
Monday March 19
I make reservations today for another Big M Gambling Cruise, and secure a spot on their Wednesday day cruise (10:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.) I want to do a total "hack" of the cruise this time to see how low I can cut the expenses. So first order of business is to find the "coopen" everyone else seems to have, and I find it in a flyer at a Hilton Garden Inn close to the condo on College Parkway. I get the $10 cruise for $5. I also find a couple of other coopens at places I frequent. So nice score there. I also snag a couple of chocolate chip cookies on my way out of the hotel. I figure, what the hell, I am a good Hilton customer and have given these folks plenty of money over the years (and am a member of their loyalty club), so isn't that worth a couple of cookies?
Tonight is $10.99 dinner night at Big Al's City Sports Bar, so I head over there for an early dinner, and also make a couple of stops at stores that are in same "Market Square" shopping center, including a dollar store where I buy a couple packs of padded shipping envelopes, and some triple-A batteries for my computer mouse.
My other stop is "Total Wine & More" which advertises beer (2,500 varieties), wine, and spirits. Just for kicks, I wanted to see what was the most expensive bottle of booze in the place. It was a 750ml bottle of Hennessy 'Richard' Cognac which comes in a crystal decanter and a presentation box for $3,000. This is a mixture of more than 100 of Hennessy's cognacs, some of which are 200 years old. I guess this is a bargain, because other sources have it for sale at $3,200. But at $3,000 for 750ml, this makes it just a shade over $118 for a one ounce shot. Is there anyone in the world with a palette that refined that he/she could pronounce this 150 times better than, say, your garden variety $20 bottle of Korbel brandy? Not anyone that I know at least! I buy two bottles of cocktail mix at their store, one for margaritas, and the other for Pina Coladas. I also snag a copy of their paper catalog for future reference. Their most expensive beer, by the way, is a brew called "Orkney Dark Island" from Scotland, and it costs $29.99 for a 750ml. bottle, and that is the only way it is sold.
Champagne? How about a Roederer Cristal Rose, 1.5L, for $999.97? (They are out of stock at the moment, but more is on the way) Or, for a wine, how about a Chateau Petrus Pomerol, 2004, 750ml, a French Bordeaux, for $2,299.97?
For dinner at Big Al's, I have the baby back ribs (normally $14.99 for $10.99, no coopen required) and they are delicious. Some of the best I've had anywhere. For beverage, I have a $4 Blue Moon, and it's happy hour, so I get two for the price of one.
An evening workout completes my day.
Expenses: dollar store, $3, cocktail mixers, $6; dinner, $17. Total $26
Bruce
I make reservations today for another Big M Gambling Cruise, and secure a spot on their Wednesday day cruise (10:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.) I want to do a total "hack" of the cruise this time to see how low I can cut the expenses. So first order of business is to find the "coopen" everyone else seems to have, and I find it in a flyer at a Hilton Garden Inn close to the condo on College Parkway. I get the $10 cruise for $5. I also find a couple of other coopens at places I frequent. So nice score there. I also snag a couple of chocolate chip cookies on my way out of the hotel. I figure, what the hell, I am a good Hilton customer and have given these folks plenty of money over the years (and am a member of their loyalty club), so isn't that worth a couple of cookies?
Tonight is $10.99 dinner night at Big Al's City Sports Bar, so I head over there for an early dinner, and also make a couple of stops at stores that are in same "Market Square" shopping center, including a dollar store where I buy a couple packs of padded shipping envelopes, and some triple-A batteries for my computer mouse.
My other stop is "Total Wine & More" which advertises beer (2,500 varieties), wine, and spirits. Just for kicks, I wanted to see what was the most expensive bottle of booze in the place. It was a 750ml bottle of Hennessy 'Richard' Cognac which comes in a crystal decanter and a presentation box for $3,000. This is a mixture of more than 100 of Hennessy's cognacs, some of which are 200 years old. I guess this is a bargain, because other sources have it for sale at $3,200. But at $3,000 for 750ml, this makes it just a shade over $118 for a one ounce shot. Is there anyone in the world with a palette that refined that he/she could pronounce this 150 times better than, say, your garden variety $20 bottle of Korbel brandy? Not anyone that I know at least! I buy two bottles of cocktail mix at their store, one for margaritas, and the other for Pina Coladas. I also snag a copy of their paper catalog for future reference. Their most expensive beer, by the way, is a brew called "Orkney Dark Island" from Scotland, and it costs $29.99 for a 750ml. bottle, and that is the only way it is sold.
Champagne? How about a Roederer Cristal Rose, 1.5L, for $999.97? (They are out of stock at the moment, but more is on the way) Or, for a wine, how about a Chateau Petrus Pomerol, 2004, 750ml, a French Bordeaux, for $2,299.97?
For dinner at Big Al's, I have the baby back ribs (normally $14.99 for $10.99, no coopen required) and they are delicious. Some of the best I've had anywhere. For beverage, I have a $4 Blue Moon, and it's happy hour, so I get two for the price of one.
An evening workout completes my day.
Expenses: dollar store, $3, cocktail mixers, $6; dinner, $17. Total $26
Bruce
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Happy St.Pat's Day
Saturday March 17 - Sunday March 18
Saturday -- Today is St. Paddy's Day, the second most worthless holiday after Columbus Day. Like the Irish need another excuse to get drunk. Oh well, one more reason I'm glad that I more or less "cool my heels" on the weekends and just chill out, while everyone else is out and about clogging up the roads, shopping malls, and attractions. I hang out at McDonalds and read and soak up their air conditioning and free wi-fi, and keep chipping away at the Steve Jobs biography. I relist a watch on eBay, an early wire lug watch that did not reach my desired minimum the first time around, so I am trying it again. And also do a workout.
Sunday -- More or less a carbon copy of yesterday, except I do go to Match dot com and go to my account settings and end my subscription to be sure I am not automatically charged another $116 when my subscription is up on April 5. I would have to characterize my Match efforts in Florida as a qualified failure. I certainly had some highlights with my friend, Carol, but a serious relationship with her is out of the question. In the end, I didn't have any better luck finding someone down here than I did in Wisconsin, and it's time to give it a rest. I feel like I'm trying too hard, and it shouldn't be like this. I can always rejoin match down the road, say in a year, if nothing happens. And by that time, hopefully some new stock will enter the herd by then. I know that's kind of a coarse way to put it, but honestly in the time since I've joined, the same women are coming up again in the rotation as "potential matches" even though I've rejected them (or vice versa) once already! Absolutely no regrets, though. The whole experience has taught me a lot about myself and about human nature and behavior. Call it another lesson in the continuing education of Bruce. Cheaper than a Psych 101 course, and a lot more fun! And I did meet someone (Amy) who has turned out to be a great friend.
Expenses: McDonald's $6
Bruce
Saturday -- Today is St. Paddy's Day, the second most worthless holiday after Columbus Day. Like the Irish need another excuse to get drunk. Oh well, one more reason I'm glad that I more or less "cool my heels" on the weekends and just chill out, while everyone else is out and about clogging up the roads, shopping malls, and attractions. I hang out at McDonalds and read and soak up their air conditioning and free wi-fi, and keep chipping away at the Steve Jobs biography. I relist a watch on eBay, an early wire lug watch that did not reach my desired minimum the first time around, so I am trying it again. And also do a workout.
Sunday -- More or less a carbon copy of yesterday, except I do go to Match dot com and go to my account settings and end my subscription to be sure I am not automatically charged another $116 when my subscription is up on April 5. I would have to characterize my Match efforts in Florida as a qualified failure. I certainly had some highlights with my friend, Carol, but a serious relationship with her is out of the question. In the end, I didn't have any better luck finding someone down here than I did in Wisconsin, and it's time to give it a rest. I feel like I'm trying too hard, and it shouldn't be like this. I can always rejoin match down the road, say in a year, if nothing happens. And by that time, hopefully some new stock will enter the herd by then. I know that's kind of a coarse way to put it, but honestly in the time since I've joined, the same women are coming up again in the rotation as "potential matches" even though I've rejected them (or vice versa) once already! Absolutely no regrets, though. The whole experience has taught me a lot about myself and about human nature and behavior. Call it another lesson in the continuing education of Bruce. Cheaper than a Psych 101 course, and a lot more fun! And I did meet someone (Amy) who has turned out to be a great friend.
Expenses: McDonald's $6
Bruce
Thursday, March 22, 2012
A $10 Ocean Cruise (No Kidding!)
Wednesday March 14 - Friday March 16
Wed. March 14 -- After the big day on Sanibel yesterday, I more or less take it easy today, reading Steve Jobs, and catching up on the blog and Internet surfing. I note on the one of the news pages that Michael
Hossack, original drummer for the Doobie Brothers, has passed away at age 65 of cancer. I check the news story and read that Hossack did the drumming on several of the Doobies' early classics, including "Listen to the Music" (which in my opinion is one of great classic rock tunes of all times and my "anthem" of the 1970s), and "China Grove." He played with original band from its inception in 1971 to 1973, then left the band to pursue other musical interests. He came back again in 1987 when a watered-down version of the band reunited and went on tour. He stayed with the group until 2010 until the cancer finally forced him to take a medical leave, and of course he never returned. It's yet another reminder to me that I am getting old, when the music-makers of my youth start passing away.
Thursday March 15
Today is the "Big M Casino Cruise" day, so I rise, take my morning meds, check the kitty bowls for food and fresh water, and head out on my trusty mount, the Murrary "Westport" cruiser. My plan is bike as far as "Marti's Family Restaurant," and have breakfast there. Then, bike the rest of the way to the dock over on Fort Myers Beach. I have my backpack stocked with my Netbook (there will be no Internet access, but I can write my blog on a word processor); a copy of "Assassin's Shadow," by Randy Wayne White
(writing under the pen name Randy Striker); sunscreen; and a few other assorted things. I leave the condo by 7:40 a.m. and arrive at Marti's at 8:10. I order the #1 breakfast special, which is two eggs to order, meat
(I choose sausage patties); choice of hash brown, Am Fries, or grits (hash browns); choice of toast or biscuit (whole wheat toast), all for the bargain price of $4.75. I add a coffee for an additional $1.75. All is delicious, and arrives from the kitchen lightening fast and hot.
I leave Marti's shortly before 9 a.m., and bike the rest of the way to the dock. I ride the bike partly over the San Carlos bridge, but have to "wimp out" part the way uphill. I arrive at the dock a little after 9:30,
lock up the bike, and buy my boarding pass, having made reservations a couple days ago. I have to pay "full fare," which is $10, because I must be the only person here without a half-off coupon, available in most any
coupon flyer spread around town. (It turns out there is a coupon flyer right right in the lobby of the Big M; why didn't the lady tell me?) Oh well, ten bucks for a half-day ocean cruise is still the best bargain in town,
if you're willing to put up with a little tobacco smoke and pass the time with a little gambling. (Actually is not a REQUIREMENT that you gamble aboard the ship. You could, theoretically, pass the entire time reading, playing cards, etc., if that's what you choose. But since I like to gamble, this is a fun part of the voyage, though I set my loss limit ahead of time at $50.)
I clear security (metal detector) and board the 168-foot ship, and immediately do a perimeter check of the 3 decks. The main deck (level one) is all gaming, with a variety of slot machines (mostly the older 3-reeler
varieties) and gaming tables, including black jack, craps, and roulette. (Also a couple of other card games, 3 card Poker and "Let it Ride," though I'm not interested in these; just blackjack.).
The second deck is the eating deck, where the buffet is set up. I have opted not to eat at the buffet, because I've heard that, while it's OK, it's not great. There are also a few slot machines on this deck as well. The third deck is an open deck, most of which is covered by a canvas roof from the sun, but there is also a small sun deck. Smoking is allowed here, as well as the casino level, so if one is sensitive to smoke, your only escape is the second level, and during peak dining times you would be limited to sitting at a small bar because they need all the tables for diners. There is also a small service bar on deck three that serves drinks (hard and soft), and a few ala carte snack items, such as hot dogs, chips, nachos, and a few other items void of any nutrition.
Before we get underway, the touristy "Pirate Cruise" passes by our ship, causing a momentary stir among the passengers, who gather at the side of the ship to have a gawk. There are waves and shouts of "Arghhh" as they pass, We get under way about 10:30 a.m. and leave San Carlos Bay. It is a beautiful sunny day with gentle breezes. The ship must sail for a little over an hour to reach international waters, so they can legally engage in taking our money. So they pass the time with a game of Bingo on the third deck. I do not partake, because I am never lucky at Bingo. The cruise is fun, and I pass the time by reading, writing the blog, and occasionally going out on the sun deck to watch the waves and the dolphins which almost at regular intervals surface alongside the ship and follow it for a while.
The announcement is made over the PA that the casino will open shortly, and passengers are urged to make their way to the casino deck and stake out their favorite slot machine or gaming table. When I get there, many people have already parked themselves at their favorite machine, so obviously there are a lot of "regulars" here. I find a $5 blackjack table, and the dealer is already making change in preparation of the game, so I lay out $60 and get twelve $5 chips in return. The dealer checks every bill with an ammonia
pen for counterfeits. I pocket two of the chips to set my loss limit at $50, no exceptions.
To my far right, at position #1 on the table, is a beautiful blond in her late 40s or early 50s, complete with tanning booth tan, and enough bright red lipstick to coat your average size canoe. But damn, she was striking, and turned just about every male head in the casino, and some female ones, too. She is weighted down with about $20K worth of gold jewelry, including what looks to be about a 2-carat solitaire engagement ring. To her left, at position #2, is her soon-to-be husband (she lets everybody know this), who is looking about 20 years her senior, with one foot in the grave, and is no doubt the source of all this bling, along with fashion white jeans, a tasteful low-cut blouse, open toed high heel sandals, and designer sunglasses, all of which I know did not come from K-Mart. She lays $1,000 on the table; hubby-to-be another $500, and they receive their chips.
A few moments later, on precise cue, the slot machines all boot up, and the dealers get the nod from the pit bosses, and we're off. We have a very pleasant table. I fear blondie and her soon-to-be-slabbed fiance, will be stuck up, but they are actually very pleasant folks, and are chatting up the dealer, and wishing people good luck on their aces, and all that. Everyone at the table knows basic strategy, so we pass a pleasant time playing blackjack.
I exhaust my budget in about 1.5 hours, and it's all fine because I know my $50 probably would have lasted five minutes at the slot machines. So I take my remaining $10 in chips, and leave the table, wishing everyone "good luck," and blondie replies, "Good luck, sweeties," so it's all good.
I pass the remaining time on the boat sitting on deck three. I buy a hot dog combo meal for $5, and a Coke refill for another buck. I read and write, and watch the ocean from the sundeck. At about 3 p.m., they announce the casino is closing and everyone is to stop playing and proceed to the cashier with whatever remains of their money. There are indeed a few big winners, and they are announced over the PA system to provide the rest of us with a shred of hope that we may indeed be winners if we merely come back and give it another go.
We approach the bay, accompanied by dolphins, and dock promptly at 4:30 p.m. and deboard. I get my bike and start pedaling home. I am hungry, because all I've had for lunch is a hot dog. I come to a place called "Pincher's Crab Shack," which I noticed on my way here, because they advertised stone crabs, starting at $13.99 for a half pound. So I decide to stop there for my dinner. The base price is for a half pound of medium claws with no sides, so I opt for a dinner with a FULL pound of medium claws, and two sides for $24.99 (I choose slaw and garlic bread). Draft beers are also 2-for-1 during happy hour, so I get two 12-ounce "Shock Tops" for the price of one, which is $4.50 -- a relative bargain. The only challenge is to keep the one cold while I enjoy the other one; they won't split them up for you. But the chilled mugs help keep them cold.
The medium claws arrive, chilled (you can also get them warm, but that's not the recommended way to eat them), and they are delicious with drawn butter and lemon. I crack them with a sharp knife and a mallet, and savor every delicious sweet bite. It's a tough call, but I think I have to say that, all things taken into consideration, stone crab is my favorite treasure of the sea. Lobster certainly ranks up there, but the
characteristics of lobster can vary considerably, depending on the species, where it's from, when it's caught, and how well (or poorly) it's prepared. With stone crab, you almost can't miss (the major exception being if they're not fresh). Granted, it's a little more work than lobster (particularly if the lobster tail has been removed and already split) but the effort is definitely worth it.
I leave Pinchers will a full belly, and pedal the rest of the way back to the condo, arriving about 7 p.m. with plenty of daylight still left due to the recent time change. I've been gone almost 12 hours, and it's been a
lovely day.
Friday March 16
My biological alarm clock wakes me at the usual 7:15. I skip the morning java and bike immediately over to the Farmers market at Lakes Park for a breakfast pita at this Greek stand, and a cup of nice coffee at another bakery stand, and also a pint carton of fresh strawberries (yummy!). I again talk with my guitar buddy, Grant, who tells me about a book titled "Bars, Beaches, and B3s" that supposedly chronicles the golden era of Long Island sound where many of the rock musicians of our era ("our" meaning the 50-something crowd) got their start. I later research this on amazon and google, but am unable to find such a book, only a reference to the website of the "Long Island Music Hall of Fame," dedicated to the early days of doo-wop and rock 'n' roll. (As it turns out, an amazing number of musicians and bands of '50s music came out of Long Island.) But I write it down here for future reference. I also drop a couple of bucks into Grant's tip jar.
I am in the mood for a killer salad tonight, so I proceed to shop for really good salad fixin's, including a great looking head of Boston Bibb lettuce. I think in all, I end up spending about $10 between the lettuce, cucumber, fresh radishes, green pepper, and a beautiful vine ripened tomato.
I bike all that stuff back to the condo and refrigerate the lettuce after washing it. I taste it, and it is lettuce of the Gods, of the type that is usually not available to us mere mortals because it is typically sold to restaurants rather than to grocers. Much as I hate to admit it, organic really does make a difference sometimes!
I grab the two remaining protein bars from my farmers' market trip last
week, and head over by car to the Fleamasters Flea Market for a little recreation there. I make one last ditch attempt to find a first edition of "Sanibel Flats" from my book contact, Chris, but no luck. I give him my business card and tell him to call me if he gets a lead on one by next Wednesday (the author is doing a book signing next Thursday) but I don't hold up much hope.
I sell the "Leatherheads" back to the DVD lady for a buck, then proceed to wander the market, in search of nothing in particular. I do check out a booth that specializes in games, expecting to find a lot of Nintendo shit
and stuff like that, but it turns out to be a really cool store that deals in board games, domino and Mahjong sets, and so forth. And also, lots of magic tricks (do I need to explain this to anyone?). A lot of this stuff
they have is really hard to find kind of stuff, and I guess the store/booth has a reputation as the "go-to" place to find stuff that can't be found anywhere else. There, I find a REALLY COOL deluxe Scrabble set that I decide I am going to snag and bring home with me. I don't want to release any more details at this point and spoil the surprise, but I think the Scrabble players back home will find this very interesting.
I have my protein bars with a glass of milk from the only food vendor in the whole market who sells milk. On the way out, I snag some grapefruit from one of the vendors. I think it's nearing the end of the season for this, and it's too bad. I surely have enjoyed my morning grapefruit here.
Back at the condo, I suit up for a workout, and head over to Anytime Fitness. (Sister) Dawn has been on my mind all day today, because this is the day she is putting her sweet Harriet to sleep. I notice as the clock turns 6 p.m., as I know her appointment at the vet is 5 p.m. central time.
Dawn, if you are reading this, you know I have already said all that I think needs saying. I'll just note for the record on this blog that it is always a sad day when we have to say goodbye to one of our kitty friends, but we must rest easy in the knowledge that we are doing the right thing. Giving them a peaceful passing, and avoiding a few extra weeks or months watching them waste away, is the final and most kind of tribute we can pay them for all they have given us. Harriet, rest in peace, sweet kitty girl.
Back at the condo, I fire up the grill and cook a nice sirloin, medium rare, and have that with fried potatoes, and a salad of the gods, prepared with all the locally grown produced I have procured earlier in the day. It is all wonderful.
I then call Dawn, who fills me in on Harriet's final moments. We both choke up a little bit, but I think we end on a good note that she did the correct and noble thing.
Expenses: breakfast, $7.50; cruise, $10; casino losses, $50; snack on ship, $6; dinner at Pinchers, $35; produce $10. Total $118.50
Bruce
Wed. March 14 -- After the big day on Sanibel yesterday, I more or less take it easy today, reading Steve Jobs, and catching up on the blog and Internet surfing. I note on the one of the news pages that Michael
Hossack, original drummer for the Doobie Brothers, has passed away at age 65 of cancer. I check the news story and read that Hossack did the drumming on several of the Doobies' early classics, including "Listen to the Music" (which in my opinion is one of great classic rock tunes of all times and my "anthem" of the 1970s), and "China Grove." He played with original band from its inception in 1971 to 1973, then left the band to pursue other musical interests. He came back again in 1987 when a watered-down version of the band reunited and went on tour. He stayed with the group until 2010 until the cancer finally forced him to take a medical leave, and of course he never returned. It's yet another reminder to me that I am getting old, when the music-makers of my youth start passing away.
Thursday March 15
Today is the "Big M Casino Cruise" day, so I rise, take my morning meds, check the kitty bowls for food and fresh water, and head out on my trusty mount, the Murrary "Westport" cruiser. My plan is bike as far as "Marti's Family Restaurant," and have breakfast there. Then, bike the rest of the way to the dock over on Fort Myers Beach. I have my backpack stocked with my Netbook (there will be no Internet access, but I can write my blog on a word processor); a copy of "Assassin's Shadow," by Randy Wayne White
(writing under the pen name Randy Striker); sunscreen; and a few other assorted things. I leave the condo by 7:40 a.m. and arrive at Marti's at 8:10. I order the #1 breakfast special, which is two eggs to order, meat
(I choose sausage patties); choice of hash brown, Am Fries, or grits (hash browns); choice of toast or biscuit (whole wheat toast), all for the bargain price of $4.75. I add a coffee for an additional $1.75. All is delicious, and arrives from the kitchen lightening fast and hot.
I leave Marti's shortly before 9 a.m., and bike the rest of the way to the dock. I ride the bike partly over the San Carlos bridge, but have to "wimp out" part the way uphill. I arrive at the dock a little after 9:30,
lock up the bike, and buy my boarding pass, having made reservations a couple days ago. I have to pay "full fare," which is $10, because I must be the only person here without a half-off coupon, available in most any
coupon flyer spread around town. (It turns out there is a coupon flyer right right in the lobby of the Big M; why didn't the lady tell me?) Oh well, ten bucks for a half-day ocean cruise is still the best bargain in town,
if you're willing to put up with a little tobacco smoke and pass the time with a little gambling. (Actually is not a REQUIREMENT that you gamble aboard the ship. You could, theoretically, pass the entire time reading, playing cards, etc., if that's what you choose. But since I like to gamble, this is a fun part of the voyage, though I set my loss limit ahead of time at $50.)
I clear security (metal detector) and board the 168-foot ship, and immediately do a perimeter check of the 3 decks. The main deck (level one) is all gaming, with a variety of slot machines (mostly the older 3-reeler
varieties) and gaming tables, including black jack, craps, and roulette. (Also a couple of other card games, 3 card Poker and "Let it Ride," though I'm not interested in these; just blackjack.).
The second deck is the eating deck, where the buffet is set up. I have opted not to eat at the buffet, because I've heard that, while it's OK, it's not great. There are also a few slot machines on this deck as well. The third deck is an open deck, most of which is covered by a canvas roof from the sun, but there is also a small sun deck. Smoking is allowed here, as well as the casino level, so if one is sensitive to smoke, your only escape is the second level, and during peak dining times you would be limited to sitting at a small bar because they need all the tables for diners. There is also a small service bar on deck three that serves drinks (hard and soft), and a few ala carte snack items, such as hot dogs, chips, nachos, and a few other items void of any nutrition.
Before we get underway, the touristy "Pirate Cruise" passes by our ship, causing a momentary stir among the passengers, who gather at the side of the ship to have a gawk. There are waves and shouts of "Arghhh" as they pass, We get under way about 10:30 a.m. and leave San Carlos Bay. It is a beautiful sunny day with gentle breezes. The ship must sail for a little over an hour to reach international waters, so they can legally engage in taking our money. So they pass the time with a game of Bingo on the third deck. I do not partake, because I am never lucky at Bingo. The cruise is fun, and I pass the time by reading, writing the blog, and occasionally going out on the sun deck to watch the waves and the dolphins which almost at regular intervals surface alongside the ship and follow it for a while.
The announcement is made over the PA that the casino will open shortly, and passengers are urged to make their way to the casino deck and stake out their favorite slot machine or gaming table. When I get there, many people have already parked themselves at their favorite machine, so obviously there are a lot of "regulars" here. I find a $5 blackjack table, and the dealer is already making change in preparation of the game, so I lay out $60 and get twelve $5 chips in return. The dealer checks every bill with an ammonia
pen for counterfeits. I pocket two of the chips to set my loss limit at $50, no exceptions.
To my far right, at position #1 on the table, is a beautiful blond in her late 40s or early 50s, complete with tanning booth tan, and enough bright red lipstick to coat your average size canoe. But damn, she was striking, and turned just about every male head in the casino, and some female ones, too. She is weighted down with about $20K worth of gold jewelry, including what looks to be about a 2-carat solitaire engagement ring. To her left, at position #2, is her soon-to-be husband (she lets everybody know this), who is looking about 20 years her senior, with one foot in the grave, and is no doubt the source of all this bling, along with fashion white jeans, a tasteful low-cut blouse, open toed high heel sandals, and designer sunglasses, all of which I know did not come from K-Mart. She lays $1,000 on the table; hubby-to-be another $500, and they receive their chips.
A few moments later, on precise cue, the slot machines all boot up, and the dealers get the nod from the pit bosses, and we're off. We have a very pleasant table. I fear blondie and her soon-to-be-slabbed fiance, will be stuck up, but they are actually very pleasant folks, and are chatting up the dealer, and wishing people good luck on their aces, and all that. Everyone at the table knows basic strategy, so we pass a pleasant time playing blackjack.
I exhaust my budget in about 1.5 hours, and it's all fine because I know my $50 probably would have lasted five minutes at the slot machines. So I take my remaining $10 in chips, and leave the table, wishing everyone "good luck," and blondie replies, "Good luck, sweeties," so it's all good.
I pass the remaining time on the boat sitting on deck three. I buy a hot dog combo meal for $5, and a Coke refill for another buck. I read and write, and watch the ocean from the sundeck. At about 3 p.m., they announce the casino is closing and everyone is to stop playing and proceed to the cashier with whatever remains of their money. There are indeed a few big winners, and they are announced over the PA system to provide the rest of us with a shred of hope that we may indeed be winners if we merely come back and give it another go.
We approach the bay, accompanied by dolphins, and dock promptly at 4:30 p.m. and deboard. I get my bike and start pedaling home. I am hungry, because all I've had for lunch is a hot dog. I come to a place called "Pincher's Crab Shack," which I noticed on my way here, because they advertised stone crabs, starting at $13.99 for a half pound. So I decide to stop there for my dinner. The base price is for a half pound of medium claws with no sides, so I opt for a dinner with a FULL pound of medium claws, and two sides for $24.99 (I choose slaw and garlic bread). Draft beers are also 2-for-1 during happy hour, so I get two 12-ounce "Shock Tops" for the price of one, which is $4.50 -- a relative bargain. The only challenge is to keep the one cold while I enjoy the other one; they won't split them up for you. But the chilled mugs help keep them cold.
The medium claws arrive, chilled (you can also get them warm, but that's not the recommended way to eat them), and they are delicious with drawn butter and lemon. I crack them with a sharp knife and a mallet, and savor every delicious sweet bite. It's a tough call, but I think I have to say that, all things taken into consideration, stone crab is my favorite treasure of the sea. Lobster certainly ranks up there, but the
characteristics of lobster can vary considerably, depending on the species, where it's from, when it's caught, and how well (or poorly) it's prepared. With stone crab, you almost can't miss (the major exception being if they're not fresh). Granted, it's a little more work than lobster (particularly if the lobster tail has been removed and already split) but the effort is definitely worth it.
I leave Pinchers will a full belly, and pedal the rest of the way back to the condo, arriving about 7 p.m. with plenty of daylight still left due to the recent time change. I've been gone almost 12 hours, and it's been a
lovely day.
Friday March 16
My biological alarm clock wakes me at the usual 7:15. I skip the morning java and bike immediately over to the Farmers market at Lakes Park for a breakfast pita at this Greek stand, and a cup of nice coffee at another bakery stand, and also a pint carton of fresh strawberries (yummy!). I again talk with my guitar buddy, Grant, who tells me about a book titled "Bars, Beaches, and B3s" that supposedly chronicles the golden era of Long Island sound where many of the rock musicians of our era ("our" meaning the 50-something crowd) got their start. I later research this on amazon and google, but am unable to find such a book, only a reference to the website of the "Long Island Music Hall of Fame," dedicated to the early days of doo-wop and rock 'n' roll. (As it turns out, an amazing number of musicians and bands of '50s music came out of Long Island.) But I write it down here for future reference. I also drop a couple of bucks into Grant's tip jar.
I am in the mood for a killer salad tonight, so I proceed to shop for really good salad fixin's, including a great looking head of Boston Bibb lettuce. I think in all, I end up spending about $10 between the lettuce, cucumber, fresh radishes, green pepper, and a beautiful vine ripened tomato.
I bike all that stuff back to the condo and refrigerate the lettuce after washing it. I taste it, and it is lettuce of the Gods, of the type that is usually not available to us mere mortals because it is typically sold to restaurants rather than to grocers. Much as I hate to admit it, organic really does make a difference sometimes!
I grab the two remaining protein bars from my farmers' market trip last
week, and head over by car to the Fleamasters Flea Market for a little recreation there. I make one last ditch attempt to find a first edition of "Sanibel Flats" from my book contact, Chris, but no luck. I give him my business card and tell him to call me if he gets a lead on one by next Wednesday (the author is doing a book signing next Thursday) but I don't hold up much hope.
I sell the "Leatherheads" back to the DVD lady for a buck, then proceed to wander the market, in search of nothing in particular. I do check out a booth that specializes in games, expecting to find a lot of Nintendo shit
and stuff like that, but it turns out to be a really cool store that deals in board games, domino and Mahjong sets, and so forth. And also, lots of magic tricks (do I need to explain this to anyone?). A lot of this stuff
they have is really hard to find kind of stuff, and I guess the store/booth has a reputation as the "go-to" place to find stuff that can't be found anywhere else. There, I find a REALLY COOL deluxe Scrabble set that I decide I am going to snag and bring home with me. I don't want to release any more details at this point and spoil the surprise, but I think the Scrabble players back home will find this very interesting.
I have my protein bars with a glass of milk from the only food vendor in the whole market who sells milk. On the way out, I snag some grapefruit from one of the vendors. I think it's nearing the end of the season for this, and it's too bad. I surely have enjoyed my morning grapefruit here.
Back at the condo, I suit up for a workout, and head over to Anytime Fitness. (Sister) Dawn has been on my mind all day today, because this is the day she is putting her sweet Harriet to sleep. I notice as the clock turns 6 p.m., as I know her appointment at the vet is 5 p.m. central time.
Dawn, if you are reading this, you know I have already said all that I think needs saying. I'll just note for the record on this blog that it is always a sad day when we have to say goodbye to one of our kitty friends, but we must rest easy in the knowledge that we are doing the right thing. Giving them a peaceful passing, and avoiding a few extra weeks or months watching them waste away, is the final and most kind of tribute we can pay them for all they have given us. Harriet, rest in peace, sweet kitty girl.
Back at the condo, I fire up the grill and cook a nice sirloin, medium rare, and have that with fried potatoes, and a salad of the gods, prepared with all the locally grown produced I have procured earlier in the day. It is all wonderful.
I then call Dawn, who fills me in on Harriet's final moments. We both choke up a little bit, but I think we end on a good note that she did the correct and noble thing.
Expenses: breakfast, $7.50; cruise, $10; casino losses, $50; snack on ship, $6; dinner at Pinchers, $35; produce $10. Total $118.50
Bruce
Sunday, March 18, 2012
A New Beer
Tuesday March 13
I think of all the places and things to do in this area, Sanibel Island has charmed me the most, and I will miss this when I go home.
I start the day at a new breakfast placed called the Island Cow, and it is just about as perfect a breakfast place as you can get (by my standards anyway). Great food, great cup of coffee (Starbucks) and great service. The place has that "Ben and Jerry's hippie" kind of feel to it. I order the open-face fritata, and have that served with home fries and toast.
I also notice something on the menu called the "Juan-Bo Special," named in honor of a couple of the restaurant's employees. This is 2 eggs, 2 pancakes, and choice or 2 sausage or bacon. In any other restaurant, this would simply be called the "2/2/2 Special" or "Two for You" for something like this. But here, menu items are named in honor of employees in lieu of pay, in the spirit of the Ben & Jerry egalitarian philosophy. Makes the help feel good, and doesn't cost the restaurant anything.
Anyway, the fritata is excellent, and I also want to try their pancakes (the waitress promises they are light and fluffy, not brick-like), so I order a short stack. Breakfast ends up costing $20, but it's worth it, and this will last me all day.
After that, I had over to Dolce Tesero to use their Internet, read, and continue ingesting caffeine. The owner of play has by now remembered me, and says, "Here, have something with your coffee," and gives me a free homemade chocolate croissant, so I drop a buck in his tip jar. I read for a while and catch up on the blog.
Next, it's over to Billy's Rental, where I get a beach cruiser for four hours. Billy's is having a majorly busy day (I think all the Fort Myers school kids are off this week for spring break), and I have to settle for one of their older bikes, but it works out fine.
My first stop is at the Shell Musuem, which is one of the island's more familiar attractions, but which I haven't made the time to visit yet, so today's the day. I pay the $9 admission, and have a look around at the displays, and have to say it was quite interesting. I didn't know, for example, that shells are generally regarded as the world's first currency, used by the Chinese from the 16th to 8th century BC. There are also many other interesting displays, including shells used as architecture (both as support materials, kind of like mixed into a cement) and decorative. And a display on the Calusa Indians (native to this region of Florida) who used shells in every conceivable way (they are also referred to as "The Shell Indians").
They also have displays of every conceivable shell creature, from the fossilized shells of now extinct species to the most common day barnacle and snail. I think my favorite is the Nautilus, which is not only beautiful, but elegantly designed. With its multiple chambers inside, which the creature can fill and empty with water to achieve almost any level of buoyancy it chooses, it is nature's own submarine and was surely the inspiration behind American inventor Robert Fulton's name for the mechanical submarine when he invented it in 1800.
From there, I bike to the Darling Nature Preserve and bike through it. This is such a nice ride; my only complaint is that the roadway is in sore need of resurfacing.
On the way back to Billy's Rentals, I stop at “Doc Ford’s” for the first time to check it out and to have a cold beer at the bar. (Welcome relief from all the biking!). I pause for a couple of minutes at the reception area to look at all the Randy Wayne White merchandise, including all of his "Doc Ford" novels, which now number 18 with the release of his latest installment, "Chasing Midnight."
At the bar, I am going over the beer menu, and I ask the bartender about a beer I’d never heard of before ... Kahlik. I mispronounce it, saying "KAY lik," but said I would like to try one. Before you know it, the guy sitting to my left says to the bartender ... “Jim, put that gentleman’s beer on my tab.” I look at the guy, puzzled, trying to figure out if I know him or something, but then he says to me: “It’s pronounced kah LEEK, and it’s from the Bahamas. I represent the distributor of this beer for this district, and we would like your first Kahlik to be on us. If you like it, we hope you will tell your friends.”
So how about that for being at the right place at the right time, AND choosing the right beer?!?!? I seem to be having a knack for getting freebies today ... first the croissant, and now the beer. So it's a good day!
(The beer was delicious, by the way, sort of in that happy “middle ground” between a lager and a pilsner.)
I return the bike, and decide again to have a little dinner on the island because the traffic is horrendous. I again go to Island Pizza, and order their small antipasto salad for $6.75 and have that with an ice water. At about 6:30, I head back to the condo and have a nice long shower.
I call the Big M casino cruise, to book a spot on the 10:30 a.m. cruise for tomorrow (Wednesday) and am informed they are sold out, so I reserve Thursday instead.
I watch "Biggest Loser" on NBC. Fortunately, the tie-in with "Fashion Star" is brief, and I only have to endure a few minutes with Jessica Simpson. We lose another contestant tonight, Emily, who was one of my favorites.
All in all, a lovey day today.
Expenses: breakfast, $20; coffee, $2; dinner $8. Total: $30
Bruce
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Roller Coaster-Mania!
Monday March 12
I set the alarm for 6:45 a.m. because today is Busch Gardens day with my friend, Carol. I make a quick pot of coffee, scarf down an energy bar, and I head out the door a little after 7 a.m. toward Carol's house in North Fort Myers. We are on the road by 7:45 and make it into Busch Gardens about 10:00 a.m.
We park ($14) and ride the tram to the entrance. At one of the self-serve kiosks, Carol exchanges he e-ticket for a day pass ($80), and I buy my day pass along with an all-you-can-eat (AYCE) food pass for an additional $30. It's called the "All Day Dining Deal." With each pass through the food line, you can get one entree, one side item (or dessert) and one soft beverage (no beer, which is served as most food venues -- Anheuser-Busch products, of course!). You can go through the line as many times as you want, but each time you get 1/1/1 on the food items.
My Chase Visa card is rejected (more on this later), so I use my Union Bank and Trust debit card.
Once inside the park, our goal is to ride five roller coasters:
After Cheetah Hunt, we are both hungry, so we go the Colony Cafe, one of the eateries, for lunch. I decide to buy Carol an AYCE pass, also. I try to buy it with my Chase Visa, and again the purchase is declined, so I know something is up. I use my debit card again. They put our wrist bands on us, and we are all set. I get a BBQ pork sandwich with fries, cheesecake, and a diet Coke. Carol gets a chicken Caesar salad and a water. I go to the food line and get a coffee to go with my cheesecake, and it's not too bad coffee, much better than the Nescafe crap they serve at Disney.
Next, we hit the Montu, because it is very close to the Cheetah run. This is a very fun coaster where the floor drops out once you are seated on the ride, known in the parlance as a suspended roller coaster. This is so fun, we decide to ride it again.
Next up is SheiKra, but I notice no cars are moving on the coaster, and as we approach we learn the coaster is down and they are trying to fix it. So we shift gears and head over to the Kumba roller coaster (very fun) and we walk the grounds for a while, which are very beautiful.
I am hungry again, so we wander into the nearest cafeteria, which is the Desert Grill. I have a corn beef and Swiss on rye with a side of potato salad, a slice of chocolate mousse cake, and diet Coke, and Carol as a taco salad with chicken, and a water. When we are finished with our email, I ask Carol if she will pardon me for a little while so I can call up Chase bank and find out what's up my credit card.
She helps me read the 800-number on the back of the card (it's so small I can see it!). I finally get a hold of a human being, and find out the card has been revoked. REVOKED! I ask who revoked it, and the guy transfers me to another guy, and he tell me that Chase revoked the card because they "were informed" on March 6 that Gwen -- in whose name the account is -- has passed away.
Gee, that only took them 2-1/2 years to figure out!
So first the guy says he's sorry about Gwen and all that. Next, he tells me they must do the application for this credit card over again, using MY credit report information rather than Gwen's. I think I am screwed. But the guy says he will life the revoke on the card for the next 30 days while they make their credit decision so that I can continue to use the card while I am on vacation. So this should be interesting.
Next, Carol and I catch a show at the Desert Grill, called "Burn the Floor" which starts at 4:30. They have a dozen or so live dancers (6 male, 6 female) from all over the world doing a variety of dances, from the 1920s Charleston to Flamenco, and everything in between. There are 2 live drummers on stage, but the rest of the musical background is a recorded soundtrack. It is a great little show, very high energy, and the dancers come out in front of the stage afterward to shake hands and take pictures with people. They are so sweaty, they are toweling themselves off with paper towels. Carol is so damned excited by the show, that she requests (and is granted) hugs from all the male dancers. I just shake their hands. The dancers leave, and now Carol will not have her chocolate chip cookie she was going to have because she feels self-conscious after seeing all those slender female dancers.
We go outside, and view an attraction called the "Cheetah Run" in which they have a live Cheetah demonstrate his speed by running a course chasing after a rabbit (or some kind of stuffed animal) that is mounted on a moving mechanism, similar to what they do at greyhound races. I kind of feel sorry for the Cheetah, reduced to performing 3 times a day for food, but damn the animal is certainly beautiful as it runs the course. I snag a guy to take a photo of Carol and I by the attraction:
We see that SheiKra (pronounced SHEE-kra) is now finally open, so we head over there. And this turns out to be my favorite coaster. It's a suspended coaster, and they take you up 200 feet in the air, then drop you for 90 of those feet down a sheer 90 degree drop. If you would like to see a Youtube video of this ride, you can click here. I was such a rush that we rode it three times in a row!
We decided to pass on Scorpion (a minor roller coaster in comparison with the rest) and also Gwazi. Gwazi is cool, especially if you are into the old classic wooden roller coasters, but with the "old" technology, the ride has a lot of side-to-side jarring, and of course they can't do the inverted loops and rolls and so forth because of the limits of the old-fashioned tracks. So we decided our time would be better spent riding SheiKra multiple times.
By this time, it getting on 6:30, and the park closes at 7 p.m., so we start heading for the entrance. We make a quick stop at one of the gift shops, and I pick up a small gift for Dawn that I cannot resist. We drive the 2.5 hours back to Fort Myers. I drop Carol off, then head back to the condo. By this time, it is 10 p.m. There is a new episode of Pawn Stars on tonight, but I am too tired to watch. I take a nice hot shower to get the sweat and suncreen off me, and I head to bed.
A very enjoyable day all around, and the weather was gorgeous, too!
Expenses: park admission, food, parking, souvenir: $164
Bruce
I set the alarm for 6:45 a.m. because today is Busch Gardens day with my friend, Carol. I make a quick pot of coffee, scarf down an energy bar, and I head out the door a little after 7 a.m. toward Carol's house in North Fort Myers. We are on the road by 7:45 and make it into Busch Gardens about 10:00 a.m.
We park ($14) and ride the tram to the entrance. At one of the self-serve kiosks, Carol exchanges he e-ticket for a day pass ($80), and I buy my day pass along with an all-you-can-eat (AYCE) food pass for an additional $30. It's called the "All Day Dining Deal." With each pass through the food line, you can get one entree, one side item (or dessert) and one soft beverage (no beer, which is served as most food venues -- Anheuser-Busch products, of course!). You can go through the line as many times as you want, but each time you get 1/1/1 on the food items.
My Chase Visa card is rejected (more on this later), so I use my Union Bank and Trust debit card.
Once inside the park, our goal is to ride five roller coasters:
- Cheetah Hunt (the newest roller coaster at the park)
- Montu
- SheiKra
- Kumba
- Scorpion
- Gwazi (wood roller coaster)
After Cheetah Hunt, we are both hungry, so we go the Colony Cafe, one of the eateries, for lunch. I decide to buy Carol an AYCE pass, also. I try to buy it with my Chase Visa, and again the purchase is declined, so I know something is up. I use my debit card again. They put our wrist bands on us, and we are all set. I get a BBQ pork sandwich with fries, cheesecake, and a diet Coke. Carol gets a chicken Caesar salad and a water. I go to the food line and get a coffee to go with my cheesecake, and it's not too bad coffee, much better than the Nescafe crap they serve at Disney.
Next, we hit the Montu, because it is very close to the Cheetah run. This is a very fun coaster where the floor drops out once you are seated on the ride, known in the parlance as a suspended roller coaster. This is so fun, we decide to ride it again.
Next up is SheiKra, but I notice no cars are moving on the coaster, and as we approach we learn the coaster is down and they are trying to fix it. So we shift gears and head over to the Kumba roller coaster (very fun) and we walk the grounds for a while, which are very beautiful.
I am hungry again, so we wander into the nearest cafeteria, which is the Desert Grill. I have a corn beef and Swiss on rye with a side of potato salad, a slice of chocolate mousse cake, and diet Coke, and Carol as a taco salad with chicken, and a water. When we are finished with our email, I ask Carol if she will pardon me for a little while so I can call up Chase bank and find out what's up my credit card.
She helps me read the 800-number on the back of the card (it's so small I can see it!). I finally get a hold of a human being, and find out the card has been revoked. REVOKED! I ask who revoked it, and the guy transfers me to another guy, and he tell me that Chase revoked the card because they "were informed" on March 6 that Gwen -- in whose name the account is -- has passed away.
Gee, that only took them 2-1/2 years to figure out!
So first the guy says he's sorry about Gwen and all that. Next, he tells me they must do the application for this credit card over again, using MY credit report information rather than Gwen's. I think I am screwed. But the guy says he will life the revoke on the card for the next 30 days while they make their credit decision so that I can continue to use the card while I am on vacation. So this should be interesting.
Next, Carol and I catch a show at the Desert Grill, called "Burn the Floor" which starts at 4:30. They have a dozen or so live dancers (6 male, 6 female) from all over the world doing a variety of dances, from the 1920s Charleston to Flamenco, and everything in between. There are 2 live drummers on stage, but the rest of the musical background is a recorded soundtrack. It is a great little show, very high energy, and the dancers come out in front of the stage afterward to shake hands and take pictures with people. They are so sweaty, they are toweling themselves off with paper towels. Carol is so damned excited by the show, that she requests (and is granted) hugs from all the male dancers. I just shake their hands. The dancers leave, and now Carol will not have her chocolate chip cookie she was going to have because she feels self-conscious after seeing all those slender female dancers.
We go outside, and view an attraction called the "Cheetah Run" in which they have a live Cheetah demonstrate his speed by running a course chasing after a rabbit (or some kind of stuffed animal) that is mounted on a moving mechanism, similar to what they do at greyhound races. I kind of feel sorry for the Cheetah, reduced to performing 3 times a day for food, but damn the animal is certainly beautiful as it runs the course. I snag a guy to take a photo of Carol and I by the attraction:
We decided to pass on Scorpion (a minor roller coaster in comparison with the rest) and also Gwazi. Gwazi is cool, especially if you are into the old classic wooden roller coasters, but with the "old" technology, the ride has a lot of side-to-side jarring, and of course they can't do the inverted loops and rolls and so forth because of the limits of the old-fashioned tracks. So we decided our time would be better spent riding SheiKra multiple times.
By this time, it getting on 6:30, and the park closes at 7 p.m., so we start heading for the entrance. We make a quick stop at one of the gift shops, and I pick up a small gift for Dawn that I cannot resist. We drive the 2.5 hours back to Fort Myers. I drop Carol off, then head back to the condo. By this time, it is 10 p.m. There is a new episode of Pawn Stars on tonight, but I am too tired to watch. I take a nice hot shower to get the sweat and suncreen off me, and I head to bed.
A very enjoyable day all around, and the weather was gorgeous, too!
Expenses: park admission, food, parking, souvenir: $164
Bruce
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