This is a list, one of my quirks, that Miss Chris had on her blog and I thought it would be fun to show-off a little as well. So here are six quirky things about me.
I am fascinated by numbers and I love to count
I don’t know when it began, but I have played with numbers for at least two decades now. I use them to make large tasks smaller, like baby steps. I count down, and sometimes up, as little bits and pieces of things get done. I also use it for pleasure when I am driving, drawing, even writing. I learned to count up to 100 about the time I was 3 and I started reading then as well, with my mother’s help. I recall my first apartment in college, a small one-bedroom that only had 3 spaces and I still counted to keep it tidy. Now it is a habit. For instance, my latest thing is numbers that are squared (I have doubled from 1 to 1024, tested how many primes I could recall and even played with sublevels of primes like happy numbers and sexy numbers) and I will make coffee and feed the cats for a 100 count. Then to the livingroom to clean up the coffee table and replace candles for a count of 81. Then make the bed for 64. Someone once said I could be autistic, but I think I just like to multitask.
I am an artist that thrives on routine
I always believed that to be an artist you needed to be flighty and a lot of creative types I knew followed this stereotype. This I found to be untrue when I met some successful artists - those who actually live off their work - and found that, though quirky, they are not always flying by the seat of their pants. I realized there are several successful writers, painters, sculptors and such who also loved a clean workbench, time on the calendar and a justifiable means to an ends. Chaos and drama don’t necessarily breed art, just a cluster fuck. Though I am still learning all this, it is nice to know that this quirky bit isn’t so quirky just for art’s sake.
I get bored very easily
Things generally grab my attention, I spend time on them, loving them like a new romance and then I am off leaving them all to their lonesome. I hate leaving things unfinished. I appreciate the feeling of accomplishment and the little treats I get when I have done something well, even if I hated doing it some of the time. But sometimes boredom rules. For instance, I had a neighbor who was the most boring person I had met. When he invited me over for coffee, and sometimes dinner, I had to politely refuse to save myself from death by boredom. Friends and mentors have shown me that working through the struggles isn’t just noble, but Zen. Like putting down a book that is dull and lifeless, I had to accept that some things were just not to be experienced by me and I had no need for closure. On the other hand, when I started knitting I made scarves. Not very useful here in Florida, but they were easy to do. Then I got bored. The passion that racked me had left and now I wanted to be free of the yarn ties that bound. My friend Mich then gave me a challenge. “Make me a purse for my birthday.” As my old boss, she knew that I loved challenges and also making gifts so I set about on my task and completed it with a few bumps of giving up in the road. I knew if I quit she wouldn’t care, no skin off her nose and no disdain for me. But I loved the feeling of completion and what I could do with this new skill. This lesson has taught me to work through my boredom and notice how things turn out when I don’t give up. At least most of the time.
I love lists
I used to proudly state that my zodiac sign predestined me to like lists. Since I don’t really believe in that kind of stuff now, I figure it is like the numbers thing, I just like order and lists give me that order. My lists include accomplishments I want to achieve by a certain day or in a certain timeframe. They hold the secrets to baby-steps I will take. And keep me on track when I am out running errands. Small lists like picking up a few things from the grocery store are usually only mental, but lately I need to write these things down. Along with counting, I make lists when I am bored at work, on the drive home or waiting in line. These are all mental too. They help work my mind and keep me from getting bored. I love books of lists and David Letterman’s list and all the list shows on TV like the top 15 Political Sex Scandals or the Top 100 Movies or Metal Bands. I think it also has to do with routine and how things are neatly placed to make a statement.
I have a plethora of books and only have read about 10%
I used to collect books. Now I am learning to part with many of them. I have a whole room in my house with bookshelf-lined walls filled to the brim and I have only read about 10% of these poems and prose, essays and rants, fiction and nonfiction wonders. I joined a Web site called Bookmooch.com where you give and receive books from other members through the mail. So far I have sent away Ernest Hemingway – not a big fan and if I get the urge to be pretentious I can go to the library; the Lemony Snickets collection; and a few books on gemstones and jewelry. I have replaced these with a cookbook by Julia Child and The Artist’s Way. I like having my own library, but most of the books are only good for a quick reference once in a decade. For instance, the other night I was talking to Ronn about Sid Vicious and his girlfriend Nancy. I showed him the book that Nancy’s mom wrote about her daughter and Rock N Roll Babylon with pictures of them both alive and dead. Both of these books have been sitting on the shelves for years and only now were they brought out. I don’t need all the dust.
Social introvert
Lastly, according to the Meyers/Briggs Personality Test, I am an introvert and not just a little, I am on the furthest part of the scale. Yet I have a lot of friends, I like to go out, I find it easy to smile and speak to people I don’t know and am well liked. But I need my time away and will be with others usually on my terms. As an introvert, I find that I relish my time alone, really alone without any other human contact. For instance, yesterday I spent the whole day by myself. Ronn, being very understanding and Renee as well, left me to my own devices as I relished my time. This is when I restore my energy, get things done and think in silence. I need it since this week I am on with family over for Thanksgiving and revving up to all the parties I have scheduled to attend this holiday season. And when I am alone I mean alone. This is one reason I don’t have children to take care of or a plethora of on-line virtual realities (which I find a tad farcical.) When I choose to be social it is face-to-face and real. I am too entrenched in the real world.
So what are your quirks???
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
40 Things I Love About St. Pete - It's A Torturous Town
This was going to be one entry, but it has turned into two since I think both need some exposure. The first being that St. Petersburg is not “God’s waiting room” as I have heard so often. Even a couple years ago when I was returning from Italy through JFK, the customs guy said, “Aren’t you too young to live there?” “It has changed, a lot,” I replied and grabbed my crap from his hands.
No. St Pete is really becoming a great place for people of all ages, and that includes all types of people. There are flashy condos downtown for the upwardly mobile; faux fancy restaurants for the young hipsters wanting to be seen; posh bars with a plethora of fab music; street fairs and markets for artists and foodies; dive bars for the losers like me who just want a drink; and music and tastes of all sorts and all kinds. This brings me to Friday night and the Genitorturers concert. I have been following the band for only about 7 years and was drawn to them when I saw one of their adult shows at The Castle, a goth club in Ybor City.
Full of debauchery and salacious perversion, the band encompasses not only hard rock-and-roll, but a performance that draws me every time. Their adult shows include forms of sadomasochistic torture, with willing volunteers and enough nudity to keep the strip clubs closed for an evening. And that is both the audience and the crowd. Gen, the lead singer is a strutting siren belting out the likes of AC/DC and Divinyls covers, as well as their own original slapped-jawed raw rock.
To be honest, the music is only a minute part of the draw, it is the costuming and performance art that keeps me coming back for more. Friday night they played our renowned outdoor venue, Janus Landing for an all-ages show (meaning no real bondage and discipline, just acting out – right.) No old folks were there, I promise. The crowd included people like me, old punksters dressed all in black, but comfortable and Ronn who had the perfect opportunity to wear his Family Guy tee advertising the size of the Peter on the shirt. But then there were the party queens, goth models in leather, latex and electrical tape prancing through the crowd to latch on to their mohawked boyfriends’ arms. It was lovely. Once I wanted to be them and at the last show I did deck out in the vinyl corset, mini and fishnets, but it was just too cold to try that again.
Ronn loved the eye candy and I can’t blame him. On stage Gen drove those lost men to their deaths with her mistress motif and brash condemnations. Her backup dancers, if you want to call them dancers just to give them a title, relished the cool air clad only in electrical tape over their nipples and barely there thongs. Nothing was really left to the imagination as Gen molested and sodomized them on stage with the freakiest dildo I ever saw. I loved it. It was like a sex show in Amsterdam, but of course way tamer and it left me wanting more.
Sparks flew as one of the girls used a sander on her metal g-string and her moans of orgasmic bliss rocked down upon us. I couldn’t help but sing along to “I Touch Myself” and drive Ronn into even a further frenzy, and I liked it. I used to be all into the goth and D/s scene, but then along came a real job, a few more pounds and the lack of will to work that hard.
One man I used to date was a whip maker, leather and such, and had created whips and other art pieces for the band. He referred to himself as a sensual sadist, but I am not sure where sensual came in. Needless to say, but I will say it anyway, that didn’t last long, though I did get a mini flogger out of the deal. I know the band follows this alternative credo, but I am not sure how much of the audience were imbedded into that way of thinking and playing. I have a feeling that a few just had extra cash to shop at the easily accessible Hot Topic (we didn’t have it so easy when I was 20, but I won’t go into a Michael rant.)
So there you have it, not all retirees. There are young punks, submissive sluts, matronly mistresses, perverse gentlemen, excited exhibitionists and very satisfied voyeurs in St. Pete, you just have to look for them, if you are really interested.
As a side note, that same night there were two other events going on, allowing for different aspects of our town to wander. Ribfest hosted STYX (ugh) and the Dome was housing the Home Show. It takes all kinds to make a cool town like this.
No. St Pete is really becoming a great place for people of all ages, and that includes all types of people. There are flashy condos downtown for the upwardly mobile; faux fancy restaurants for the young hipsters wanting to be seen; posh bars with a plethora of fab music; street fairs and markets for artists and foodies; dive bars for the losers like me who just want a drink; and music and tastes of all sorts and all kinds. This brings me to Friday night and the Genitorturers concert. I have been following the band for only about 7 years and was drawn to them when I saw one of their adult shows at The Castle, a goth club in Ybor City.
Full of debauchery and salacious perversion, the band encompasses not only hard rock-and-roll, but a performance that draws me every time. Their adult shows include forms of sadomasochistic torture, with willing volunteers and enough nudity to keep the strip clubs closed for an evening. And that is both the audience and the crowd. Gen, the lead singer is a strutting siren belting out the likes of AC/DC and Divinyls covers, as well as their own original slapped-jawed raw rock.
To be honest, the music is only a minute part of the draw, it is the costuming and performance art that keeps me coming back for more. Friday night they played our renowned outdoor venue, Janus Landing for an all-ages show (meaning no real bondage and discipline, just acting out – right.) No old folks were there, I promise. The crowd included people like me, old punksters dressed all in black, but comfortable and Ronn who had the perfect opportunity to wear his Family Guy tee advertising the size of the Peter on the shirt. But then there were the party queens, goth models in leather, latex and electrical tape prancing through the crowd to latch on to their mohawked boyfriends’ arms. It was lovely. Once I wanted to be them and at the last show I did deck out in the vinyl corset, mini and fishnets, but it was just too cold to try that again.
Ronn loved the eye candy and I can’t blame him. On stage Gen drove those lost men to their deaths with her mistress motif and brash condemnations. Her backup dancers, if you want to call them dancers just to give them a title, relished the cool air clad only in electrical tape over their nipples and barely there thongs. Nothing was really left to the imagination as Gen molested and sodomized them on stage with the freakiest dildo I ever saw. I loved it. It was like a sex show in Amsterdam, but of course way tamer and it left me wanting more.
Sparks flew as one of the girls used a sander on her metal g-string and her moans of orgasmic bliss rocked down upon us. I couldn’t help but sing along to “I Touch Myself” and drive Ronn into even a further frenzy, and I liked it. I used to be all into the goth and D/s scene, but then along came a real job, a few more pounds and the lack of will to work that hard.
One man I used to date was a whip maker, leather and such, and had created whips and other art pieces for the band. He referred to himself as a sensual sadist, but I am not sure where sensual came in. Needless to say, but I will say it anyway, that didn’t last long, though I did get a mini flogger out of the deal. I know the band follows this alternative credo, but I am not sure how much of the audience were imbedded into that way of thinking and playing. I have a feeling that a few just had extra cash to shop at the easily accessible Hot Topic (we didn’t have it so easy when I was 20, but I won’t go into a Michael rant.)
So there you have it, not all retirees. There are young punks, submissive sluts, matronly mistresses, perverse gentlemen, excited exhibitionists and very satisfied voyeurs in St. Pete, you just have to look for them, if you are really interested.
As a side note, that same night there were two other events going on, allowing for different aspects of our town to wander. Ribfest hosted STYX (ugh) and the Dome was housing the Home Show. It takes all kinds to make a cool town like this.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Things I Love About St. Pete – nombre 3 Melitta Mama
Today I braved the whackiest warehouse sale I have ever experienced. I have been to some crazy shopping places; Century 21 in lower Manhattan the day after Thanksgiving; Target in Brooklyn on the same day; the Albertson’s Liquor Store closeout; the tents sales at Home Shopping; the San Lorenzo market in Florence. Those had all prepared me for this new adventure.
A couple miles from work is the Melitta Coffee Warehouse. Melitta is a very well-known brand in the states and is featured at many restaurants around the country. I love my cup of java at least every morning and during the day it is more than just a pick-me-up, but a warm reminder that I get to go home soon. Guy spurred me on with the tempting phrase, “Patrick went one year when he was down and said it was great.” Therefore it was spoken and I must follow in Patrick’s shoes.
Patrick is one of my friends who I look up to. He’s an adventurer and a foodie and a blast to hang out with. He knows his coffee and he knows deals. I just had to do it and I trusted in his taste. Of course he didn’t steer me wrong, but what I wasn’t ready for was the masses of people on their lunch break, restauranteers and retires that filled the aisles grabbing for whatever wasn’t nailed down.
Hesitating at first arrival, I scanned the building and got my bearings about where things were located. A plethora of coffee makers over here, a cornucopia of coffees over there, it all flowed like the line snaking through the aisles with people patiently waiting to check out. Well some were patiently waiting, but we’ll get to that later.
I went through the coffeemakers and was tempted by the One/One. With individual pouches of interestingly named flavors, I thought about how convenient this would be. But then again, I would have to get everything now (didn’t have the funds for that kind of dish-out) since out in the stores those little pouches cost almost as much as Starbucks and that defeated the convenience purpose.
Next to them I spied the individual manual coffeemakers, which really is a coffee mug with a colorful filter basket on top. Only $.99, I just couldn’t resist since the coffee at work is either too pricey or just plain sucks.
Then came the coffees in ground, whole bean, cases and little one-pot packets. I was grabbing one after the other in Crème Brulee, Pecan Pie, Raspberry Truffle, Hazelnut, Sugar Cookie and other desserty kinds of treats. Then rational set in: I really don’t like all those kinds of things. Hazelnut I like, but all the others were just calling to me and I responded like a crack addict. This apparently is in my genes since I recall my father buying cases of Chek Cola and Thriftymade cookies when I was young not because I liked them, but because they were on sale. He was a definitive discount shopper, but lacked the taste to buy only the good stuff on special. I put back most of the sugary beans replacing them with Ronn’s favorites and put myself in line to check out before another moment of anxiety kicked in.
I was a lucky on, about 100th in line, I figured it wasn’t so bad, hell I had my iPod just in case. Thankfully I was in front of a nice older couple who chit chatted and fed my need for optimism as she complained briefly about having to stand for so long, and he just pointed out interesting observations in the crowd. I followed his lead and kept a smile on my face only losing it when I wondered how much I had actually filled my bag with. It took about 45 minutes and I escaped only denting my wallet for $25 and getting a bunch of fun flavors for both Ronn and I.
Now that I have had a taste of this warehouse-frenzied brew, I can prepare for next year and craft a list of treats for the holidays, a year’s supply for myself and maybe a new coffeemaker to toy with. Oh Joy!
A couple miles from work is the Melitta Coffee Warehouse. Melitta is a very well-known brand in the states and is featured at many restaurants around the country. I love my cup of java at least every morning and during the day it is more than just a pick-me-up, but a warm reminder that I get to go home soon. Guy spurred me on with the tempting phrase, “Patrick went one year when he was down and said it was great.” Therefore it was spoken and I must follow in Patrick’s shoes.
Patrick is one of my friends who I look up to. He’s an adventurer and a foodie and a blast to hang out with. He knows his coffee and he knows deals. I just had to do it and I trusted in his taste. Of course he didn’t steer me wrong, but what I wasn’t ready for was the masses of people on their lunch break, restauranteers and retires that filled the aisles grabbing for whatever wasn’t nailed down.
Hesitating at first arrival, I scanned the building and got my bearings about where things were located. A plethora of coffee makers over here, a cornucopia of coffees over there, it all flowed like the line snaking through the aisles with people patiently waiting to check out. Well some were patiently waiting, but we’ll get to that later.
I went through the coffeemakers and was tempted by the One/One. With individual pouches of interestingly named flavors, I thought about how convenient this would be. But then again, I would have to get everything now (didn’t have the funds for that kind of dish-out) since out in the stores those little pouches cost almost as much as Starbucks and that defeated the convenience purpose.
Next to them I spied the individual manual coffeemakers, which really is a coffee mug with a colorful filter basket on top. Only $.99, I just couldn’t resist since the coffee at work is either too pricey or just plain sucks.
Then came the coffees in ground, whole bean, cases and little one-pot packets. I was grabbing one after the other in Crème Brulee, Pecan Pie, Raspberry Truffle, Hazelnut, Sugar Cookie and other desserty kinds of treats. Then rational set in: I really don’t like all those kinds of things. Hazelnut I like, but all the others were just calling to me and I responded like a crack addict. This apparently is in my genes since I recall my father buying cases of Chek Cola and Thriftymade cookies when I was young not because I liked them, but because they were on sale. He was a definitive discount shopper, but lacked the taste to buy only the good stuff on special. I put back most of the sugary beans replacing them with Ronn’s favorites and put myself in line to check out before another moment of anxiety kicked in.
I was a lucky on, about 100th in line, I figured it wasn’t so bad, hell I had my iPod just in case. Thankfully I was in front of a nice older couple who chit chatted and fed my need for optimism as she complained briefly about having to stand for so long, and he just pointed out interesting observations in the crowd. I followed his lead and kept a smile on my face only losing it when I wondered how much I had actually filled my bag with. It took about 45 minutes and I escaped only denting my wallet for $25 and getting a bunch of fun flavors for both Ronn and I.
Now that I have had a taste of this warehouse-frenzied brew, I can prepare for next year and craft a list of treats for the holidays, a year’s supply for myself and maybe a new coffeemaker to toy with. Oh Joy!
Friday, November 14, 2008
40 Things I Love About St. Pete - 2. Out of Africa
Though this is not about St. Pete exactly it is about the surrounding area, Tampa to be exact. I know it stretches the title and supposed meaning of this list, but it's my list and I will run it the way I want to. Enjoy!
I live in the land of the amusement park. Florida is considered the happiest place on earth for not only senior citizens and retirees, but those under the age of 12 who adore anything with mouse ears. I am not against the Disney conglomerate, I too like the spinning teacups, the princess paraphernalia and the “Hi Ho Hi Ho” of those seven vertically challenged gentlemen that all live in the same cabin in the woods. For many years I stayed away from the whoopla of not only Disney, but the more available Busch Gardens which is only about 40 minutes from my house (though I can’t see it from my home.)
Friends had talked about meeting up there randomly to drink beer and ride rollercoasters, but I figured there wasn’t much in it for me but aching feet, a lighter wallet and heat stroke. That all changed about a month ago. The McGoverns had planned a day trip to Africa and I tagged along figuring it was for my friends, not for myself that I was going. After being encouraged to get the year pass for just $30 bucks more, though not taking the bait for a ride on Kumba, I went on my fantastical journey.
It had been years since I went to Busch Gardens. It was back in the 80s when the Python rollercoaster was the end-all-be-all. I used to go with my father, who being a single dad through no fault of his own, had limited creativity on how to entertain a preteen child. He was a trooper drinking his free Busch beer and riding with me as a daredevil. It was odd back then for both him and me since we had nothing in common and only seemed to play at this daddy/daughter thing. Back then I wasn’t so interested in the animals or the slow “old-people” rides like the train and the Skyride, but it was a trade off with the old man.
Now that I am one of those “old people” I get more of a kick out of watching the monkeys groom one another, the giraffes prance and the sloths move at less than lightning speed to look back at my inquisitive face. Going with the McGoverns meant that the day would be filled with beer drinking, making snide remarks about each other, catching up on tales about our jobs and significant others, and them telling tales about growing up together.
For those of you who don’t know Busch Gardens and the though of rollercoasters, beer and animals seems a bit random for a theme park, let me give you some less than private history. Busch Gardens Tampa opened in 1959 and was themed as 19th-century Africa, including the wonders of colonialism (not very Joseph Conrad). Eventually they added rides, which surrounded the centerpiece, the Brewery, after all it is Busch as in Busch beer. Divided into quaint renditions of Nairobi, Congo, Stanleyville, Morocco, Egypt and the Serengeti Plain, the park now features four world-class rollercoasters, including the Scorpion which was designed by renown engineer and rollercoaster expert Anton Schwarzkopf.
Though I followed the girls and patiently waited, with my free cup of Shock Top, as they rode the rides, my main focus was to check out the animals. We took the Skyride over the Serengeti Plain which has “free-roaming” Grevy’s zebra, reticulated giraffe, bongo, addax, addra gazelle, eland, impala, ostrich, marabou stork, East African crowned crane and sacred ibis. Housed in Nairobi is the nursery with all the cute and cuddly newborns, as well as the nocturnal caves which have my favorites; the bats.
This is when I knew I had made a wise investment for the year. I would be coming back just to hang-out with the swimming hippos and the Bengal tigers. Pictures to be taken popped into my head and I just couldn’t believe how much I loved the day.
There is even a play land for children and from what I heard, some great food as well. The beer house had been changed into a huge sultan’s chamber and the oompa band had been replaced with Middle Eastern tunes when the Brewery was closed and the park went more to being for child amusement.
Though still not a big fan of the Magic Kingdom (how can a place that has a thousand screaming kids and no alcohol be magical?) I can appreciate the draw that tourists and die-hards have found in these wonderlands. But Busch Gardens has more than the norm and you can do as much or as little as you want to do. In fact just a couple weeks later, Patty and I went back, an unplanned trip, and found a great afternoon in just watching the animals all day. 
And don’t fret, Busch Gardens is known for how it treats its animals. It is a lot better than most zoos and prides itself on its reputation as a conservation organization. I figured my $100 was well spent if it can keep these animals safe, healthy and happy. Or I may just be living in my own Fantasy Land.
Friends had talked about meeting up there randomly to drink beer and ride rollercoasters, but I figured there wasn’t much in it for me but aching feet, a lighter wallet and heat stroke. That all changed about a month ago. The McGoverns had planned a day trip to Africa and I tagged along figuring it was for my friends, not for myself that I was going. After being encouraged to get the year pass for just $30 bucks more, though not taking the bait for a ride on Kumba, I went on my fantastical journey.It had been years since I went to Busch Gardens. It was back in the 80s when the Python rollercoaster was the end-all-be-all. I used to go with my father, who being a single dad through no fault of his own, had limited creativity on how to entertain a preteen child. He was a trooper drinking his free Busch beer and riding with me as a daredevil. It was odd back then for both him and me since we had nothing in common and only seemed to play at this daddy/daughter thing. Back then I wasn’t so interested in the animals or the slow “old-people” rides like the train and the Skyride, but it was a trade off with the old man.Now that I am one of those “old people” I get more of a kick out of watching the monkeys groom one another, the giraffes prance and the sloths move at less than lightning speed to look back at my inquisitive face. Going with the McGoverns meant that the day would be filled with beer drinking, making snide remarks about each other, catching up on tales about our jobs and significant others, and them telling tales about growing up together.
For those of you who don’t know Busch Gardens and the though of rollercoasters, beer and animals seems a bit random for a theme park, let me give you some less than private history. Busch Gardens Tampa opened in 1959 and was themed as 19th-century Africa, including the wonders of colonialism (not very Joseph Conrad). Eventually they added rides, which surrounded the centerpiece, the Brewery, after all it is Busch as in Busch beer. Divided into quaint renditions of Nairobi, Congo, Stanleyville, Morocco, Egypt and the Serengeti Plain, the park now features four world-class rollercoasters, including the Scorpion which was designed by renown engineer and rollercoaster expert Anton Schwarzkopf.Though I followed the girls and patiently waited, with my free cup of Shock Top, as they rode the rides, my main focus was to check out the animals. We took the Skyride over the Serengeti Plain which has “free-roaming” Grevy’s zebra, reticulated giraffe, bongo, addax, addra gazelle, eland, impala, ostrich, marabou stork, East African crowned crane and sacred ibis. Housed in Nairobi is the nursery with all the cute and cuddly newborns, as well as the nocturnal caves which have my favorites; the bats.This is when I knew I had made a wise investment for the year. I would be coming back just to hang-out with the swimming hippos and the Bengal tigers. Pictures to be taken popped into my head and I just couldn’t believe how much I loved the day.There is even a play land for children and from what I heard, some great food as well. The beer house had been changed into a huge sultan’s chamber and the oompa band had been replaced with Middle Eastern tunes when the Brewery was closed and the park went more to being for child amusement.
Though still not a big fan of the Magic Kingdom (how can a place that has a thousand screaming kids and no alcohol be magical?) I can appreciate the draw that tourists and die-hards have found in these wonderlands. But Busch Gardens has more than the norm and you can do as much or as little as you want to do. In fact just a couple weeks later, Patty and I went back, an unplanned trip, and found a great afternoon in just watching the animals all day. And don’t fret, Busch Gardens is known for how it treats its animals. It is a lot better than most zoos and prides itself on its reputation as a conservation organization. I figured my $100 was well spent if it can keep these animals safe, healthy and happy. Or I may just be living in my own Fantasy Land. Thursday, November 13, 2008
40 Things I Love About St. Petersburg - Going Global
This blog is the beginning of a new list: 40 Things I Love About St. Petersburg. It is sort of like a gratitude piece, but I really do appreciate my town. I will also include things from surrounding areas like Tampa, Clearwater, Dunedin, etc. For those of you not from here, this may open your eyes to some wonderful things and entice you to visit, especially as the snows begin to fall.For years I wanted to get the hell out of Florida. I dreamt of a world in NYC or London or someplace cool and exciting. But alas fear, doubt and lack of creative potential left me in my own backyard and I decided to make the best of it. Then Voila! Life in St. Pete (and the whole Tampa Bay Area) got cool. Forget the Condo Barons and the chain mistakes and you have a great little town with class, culture and a lot of heart (though it can be awfully stone-cold at times.) St. Pete in particular is a great village to be a part of from sunny surf (cliché, but think about it when you are shuffling through sleet up north), music, art, theatre and literature downtown, a few right steps into a sense of culinary equity, fun places to just hang and an open-minded spirit.
One place downtown that I always appreciate is the Globe Coffee Lounge http://www.globecoffeelounge.com/ . It’s like a coffeehouse, but with more of a loungie atmosphere and now beer and wine. Strategically located at 5th St and 1st Ave N, the Globe is a hotspot for politics, art and the competitive sport of board game playing. In fact, wanna-be afficiandos can try their hand at anything from Connect Four to Scrabble, Monopoly and backgammon. It is also a great place to meet up with friends, hold encouraging soirees (like the St. Pete Creative Group’s monthly meeting) or book clubs.
Opened a decade ago by resident WMNF DJ and all-round hip chick JoEllen http://www.globecoffeelounge.com/staff/joellen , the Globe filled a hole in a town that looked like it was on its way out. We struggled to keep the cool intact, but real estate sent the hippies packing and Dog Street had to close-up shop. It was a time when people went downtown to go somewhere, not just anywhere like now.
It’s common for people of all ages to keep it cheap and wander through the Avenues in search of a place to sit, eat, smoke a cigar, have a martini or just watch the crowds. The Globe provides a bit of shelter, plus something to warm your insides as you let things pass. They now have a full menu, but it is really the atmosphere that suits me. I wish I was a regular and could claim a touch of cool for it, but I have left it mostly to the young hipsters that are finding their way to make St. Pete more saintly. 
I stumbled in a couple weeks ago for the Creative Group meeting and found that on that night I wasn’t the oldest person in the place, nor was I a standout in my own geeky way. I was introduced to the group by the Mac doctor at work and crashed the meeting with a few designers in tow. We were there to network and try to get our symbolic artistry off the ground. I met a few people; one woman who had published her own works and was in the process of her second novel, how inspiring; and a girl who couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11 rocking us out with original verse on her guitar. Very cool indeed.
Comfy and cozy for body, mind and soul, the Globe is a winner for anyone who misses the old-style family room or basement and would like to take an hour or so to refresh their game skills, discuss the events of the day and to celebrate life with like-minded folks. Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Life in A Day
On Saturday, Guy and I took a whirlwind tour that took us from the country to Hollywood, Sweden, Spain and finally San Francisco. Well sort of.
We started out our day visiting my sister. It’s been a while since I have seen her, and it was on the way to our next stop, so I thought it would be nice to get together. We caught up about her kids and grandkids and perused the little shops of downtown Plant City. I used to live here when I was very wee (about 3) and spent many summers with her and my other sister in a place that was the country compared to the suburbs I lived in. In fact, at one point I was supposed to live with her and her kids when I was a teenager, but my dad nixed that and now we only see each other once in a while. She took us to a quaint restaurant called The Whistle Stop. It is so named for two reasons I suppose – its proximity to the railroad tracks and what could have once been the train station and for the book by Fannie Flagg. I didn’t see fried green tomatoes on the menu, but I did spot right off something called a Cherry Slammer (or something like that). It is soda water with a large dollop of cherry syrup to make for a brightly hued, summery-flavored concoction that I adored.
We wandered after lunch to let it settle and ambled through rows and rows of delicate antiques in the little shops that lined the streets. Guy shared tales of shooting some commercial or such there and my sister spilled the dirt about some of the locals, you know things like who is cheating on whom and who has a drinking problem and other small-town gossip. I loved it. She also took us to the fabulous organic food store The Corner Store. It is owned by a young couple and has a homey feel that makes you want to get a cup of peppermint tea and a ginger cookie and relax in the kids’ play area. Maybe once my house is paid off I can go to work in a place like that, making a couple hundred a week, eating only the best foods and meeting cool people. It’s a thought.
Next stop was at the end of our mad dash to Orlando and the Orlando Film Festival. One of Guy’s buddies directed a short film called This Man’s Life. The lead actor, Michael Rooker was amazing and he was there along with the director, Todd Thompson. Sometimes it’s funny when you recognize something from somewhere and it plays with your head all day. That is how it was when I saw Rooker. I remembered him from a film I saw 20 years ago called Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. It haunted me all day wondering if he was the same guy and by God he was (after a short look-up on imdb.com). It’s odd I didn’t recognize him when they were shooting the movie (Ronn, Guy and I went to the set last year), but now it rang a bell like a loud din.
We only stayed for that one film since IKEA was calling us – or in reality, we were calling IKEA (to the tune of the Simpson’s song, “I-Key-Ya do do do dododododododododod) I am never prepared going into this Disney Land for home décor addicts. We strolled through the entire store, ate a dinner of Swedish meatballs and potatoes and finally made our purchases. Guy wondered how we were going to kill the afternoon before our next stop of this tragical history tour, but 3-1/2 hours later we were dragging our tired asses to the car with a squiggly mirror, candles in all shapes and fragrances, a few kitchen tchotchkes and a lint brush in tow. My next visit, will hopefully be to get all the stuff I need for my bathroom and kitchen since I am giving them a budgeted makeover now, because the big makeover will have to wait another 5 years. But a little new tile, new sink and new towels and such will really make the room shine.
At 6:15 we climbed into the car for what was supposed to be our last stop of the evening. Guy’s old neighbor (meaning she used to be his neighbor, not a chronological reference) is an opera singer. She lives in New York and usually performs in the city, but she took some time off from her normal gig and agreed to be in the Barber of Seville at the Polk Theatre in Lakeland. She had worked with the conductor and liked to get back to her old digs once in a while. Anne is one of the most beautiful people I know. I had seen her in only one performance before, La Traviatta and that had been about 5 years ago. The last time I saw her, she paid a visit to Guy’s house one summer evening in 2006. The reason I remember it so clearly is because it was when Guy and I were addicted to Channel Four’s Celebrity Big Brother 4 with Pete Burns, Jodie Marsh, Dennis Rodman and Chantelle. We got hooked on it while flying to Anchorage and only doled out a few episodes at a time to keep the buzz running. On that evening we had taken extra long to watch an episode since we had to chat about each act. Anne came over and drew us back to reality. God I loved that show!!!!
On Saturday, we were dressed in shorts and tees and had to find a place to change for the upscale performance. Guy pulled into a closed furniture store parking lot and we proceeded to disrobe and then get dressed again, all in a matter of minutes. It was a touch scary since we were exposing ourselves in public and it was a touch suspicious at the closed store. I am sure there is some interesting camera footage floating around that place. Guy kept it light though with his usual sense of humor. “Whatever you do, if the cops show up just tell them we were having sex,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “If we tell them we’re married to other people and just having sex they will think nothing of it. Just don’t say we are changing clothes to go to the opera.” I got it. Polk County is not known for its diverse thinking, but they are known for hate crimes and redneck teens beating each other up while on tape. Now you see the point in the lie.
The opera was great and I only slept through about 20 minutes of the second half (it was a long day and I was cold.) We paid our respects to Anne and got a couple pictures of the cast and off to home. Of course we had to make a pit stop on the way since we were so close to Georgie’s and we had both gone all day without a drink. Georgie’s was fabulous and packed with Madonna and Kylie streaming across the air. We each had a Maker’s Mark Manhattan and relived the wonders of the day.
It has been a while since Guy and I hung out, mainly because we both have men in our lives and we prefer to spend time making these romances grow (or at least fake like we are doing that.) I missed his companionship a lot.
We started out our day visiting my sister. It’s been a while since I have seen her, and it was on the way to our next stop, so I thought it would be nice to get together. We caught up about her kids and grandkids and perused the little shops of downtown Plant City. I used to live here when I was very wee (about 3) and spent many summers with her and my other sister in a place that was the country compared to the suburbs I lived in. In fact, at one point I was supposed to live with her and her kids when I was a teenager, but my dad nixed that and now we only see each other once in a while. She took us to a quaint restaurant called The Whistle Stop. It is so named for two reasons I suppose – its proximity to the railroad tracks and what could have once been the train station and for the book by Fannie Flagg. I didn’t see fried green tomatoes on the menu, but I did spot right off something called a Cherry Slammer (or something like that). It is soda water with a large dollop of cherry syrup to make for a brightly hued, summery-flavored concoction that I adored.
We wandered after lunch to let it settle and ambled through rows and rows of delicate antiques in the little shops that lined the streets. Guy shared tales of shooting some commercial or such there and my sister spilled the dirt about some of the locals, you know things like who is cheating on whom and who has a drinking problem and other small-town gossip. I loved it. She also took us to the fabulous organic food store The Corner Store. It is owned by a young couple and has a homey feel that makes you want to get a cup of peppermint tea and a ginger cookie and relax in the kids’ play area. Maybe once my house is paid off I can go to work in a place like that, making a couple hundred a week, eating only the best foods and meeting cool people. It’s a thought.
Next stop was at the end of our mad dash to Orlando and the Orlando Film Festival. One of Guy’s buddies directed a short film called This Man’s Life. The lead actor, Michael Rooker was amazing and he was there along with the director, Todd Thompson. Sometimes it’s funny when you recognize something from somewhere and it plays with your head all day. That is how it was when I saw Rooker. I remembered him from a film I saw 20 years ago called Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer. It haunted me all day wondering if he was the same guy and by God he was (after a short look-up on imdb.com). It’s odd I didn’t recognize him when they were shooting the movie (Ronn, Guy and I went to the set last year), but now it rang a bell like a loud din.
We only stayed for that one film since IKEA was calling us – or in reality, we were calling IKEA (to the tune of the Simpson’s song, “I-Key-Ya do do do dododododododododod) I am never prepared going into this Disney Land for home décor addicts. We strolled through the entire store, ate a dinner of Swedish meatballs and potatoes and finally made our purchases. Guy wondered how we were going to kill the afternoon before our next stop of this tragical history tour, but 3-1/2 hours later we were dragging our tired asses to the car with a squiggly mirror, candles in all shapes and fragrances, a few kitchen tchotchkes and a lint brush in tow. My next visit, will hopefully be to get all the stuff I need for my bathroom and kitchen since I am giving them a budgeted makeover now, because the big makeover will have to wait another 5 years. But a little new tile, new sink and new towels and such will really make the room shine.
At 6:15 we climbed into the car for what was supposed to be our last stop of the evening. Guy’s old neighbor (meaning she used to be his neighbor, not a chronological reference) is an opera singer. She lives in New York and usually performs in the city, but she took some time off from her normal gig and agreed to be in the Barber of Seville at the Polk Theatre in Lakeland. She had worked with the conductor and liked to get back to her old digs once in a while. Anne is one of the most beautiful people I know. I had seen her in only one performance before, La Traviatta and that had been about 5 years ago. The last time I saw her, she paid a visit to Guy’s house one summer evening in 2006. The reason I remember it so clearly is because it was when Guy and I were addicted to Channel Four’s Celebrity Big Brother 4 with Pete Burns, Jodie Marsh, Dennis Rodman and Chantelle. We got hooked on it while flying to Anchorage and only doled out a few episodes at a time to keep the buzz running. On that evening we had taken extra long to watch an episode since we had to chat about each act. Anne came over and drew us back to reality. God I loved that show!!!!
On Saturday, we were dressed in shorts and tees and had to find a place to change for the upscale performance. Guy pulled into a closed furniture store parking lot and we proceeded to disrobe and then get dressed again, all in a matter of minutes. It was a touch scary since we were exposing ourselves in public and it was a touch suspicious at the closed store. I am sure there is some interesting camera footage floating around that place. Guy kept it light though with his usual sense of humor. “Whatever you do, if the cops show up just tell them we were having sex,” he said. “Why?” I asked. “If we tell them we’re married to other people and just having sex they will think nothing of it. Just don’t say we are changing clothes to go to the opera.” I got it. Polk County is not known for its diverse thinking, but they are known for hate crimes and redneck teens beating each other up while on tape. Now you see the point in the lie.
The opera was great and I only slept through about 20 minutes of the second half (it was a long day and I was cold.) We paid our respects to Anne and got a couple pictures of the cast and off to home. Of course we had to make a pit stop on the way since we were so close to Georgie’s and we had both gone all day without a drink. Georgie’s was fabulous and packed with Madonna and Kylie streaming across the air. We each had a Maker’s Mark Manhattan and relived the wonders of the day.
It has been a while since Guy and I hung out, mainly because we both have men in our lives and we prefer to spend time making these romances grow (or at least fake like we are doing that.) I missed his companionship a lot.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Oh What To Eat
It was only about twelve or thirteen years ago that I became a foodie. I have always loved food and have battled with weight since I hit puberty. When I found the Food Network my interest really took off and I fell in love. It wasn’t like an instant romance, I only teetered on the edge of devotion making a few things here and there and trying my hand at foods that were mostly diet kinds of things like cauliflower soup and turkey meatloaf.
Food started becoming a way I could show love to my friends and to myself. I balanced my creations with comfort foods like Braised Beef and Buttered Noodles on one side and Fennel and Orange Salad on the other – all in one meal. I noticed the Zen moments I found in chopping and stirring and just playing around with all the utensils when I was living with Guy for a few weeks. After listening to many people complain that coming home to cook was a chore, I regretted telling Guy I would cook dinner each night to pay him back for his hospitality. What I didn’t know until I tried it was how much I loved coming home around 6 p.m. and cooking a lovely meal. I would get all the prep done and start the cooking before I mixed my martini (so as not to forget what I was doing) and found this routine to be sublime.
We dined well on Roasted Chicken with Lemon and Herbs, Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Almonds, Roast Pork with a Mustard and Grape Sauce, Tilapia with Peach Jalapeno Salsa and Grilled Kabob Salad. This honeymoon was short lived, but I made sure to keep the faith. Even while I was in massage school I would cook my own meals, though that was at a time when semi-homemade meant homemade to me (like frozen pasta dishes that I added a couple touches to or Chicken Tonight chicken Marsala.) It struck me then that my love of food was not in the norm. The other students were in awe that I would cook such things especially, “just for me.” See, I had a boyfriend at the time that wouldn’t eat my cooking, not that my cooking was bad, he was just too picky. He liked about five things and preferred to eat out daily. The only time I got to cook was for me. The “just me” attitude floored me. If I wouldn’t cook well for “just me” why would I ever cook for anyone else? To my Oprah-sensibilities I was important and didn’t miss the accusation, instead I ran with it finding more exciting things to cook.
Now it is a way of life, though I am leaning towards a nutritious, healthy side rather than traditional comfort foods. My first step is adding more vegetables to my diet. I am a veggie fiend, but when Dr. Weil recommends eating 5-6 servings a day, even I was stunned about how few I actually ate. Compared to regular America, I eat a lot of fruits and veg, but not enough to be healthy. So now I have crafted some recipes to put more health into my diet while not skimping on taste.
(Note: When it comes to recipes, I usually scan ones I find on TV, Web or magazines, and then see what I can come up with just from memory – both a test to keep my mind agile and a way to let the food muses get their share of playtime.)
Carrot Salad (Two Versions)
(I usually eat this for breakfast since it has a sweet taste and also I just can’t do any bread first thing in the morning.)
Both versions contain:
Matchstick carrots (about 1-1/2 to 2 cups)
Choice of:
Sliced or diced apples
Raisins and/or dried cranberries
Nuts (I prefer walnuts)
Diced hot pepper or scallions (for a punch)
Orange or tangerine sections
Celery
Then to bring it all together I have two dressings.
Vanilla yogurt (I use fat-free Stonyfield organic). This makes a coleslaw kind of salad, but packed with nutrients, a sweet taste and very satisfying texture.
Walnut oil/balsamic vinaigrette. 1 part vinegar to 3 parts oil with a teaspoon or two of mustard ( I like grainy mustards for this) and ground pepper. I toss it over the salad and it lends a rich warm flavor that is also nice for breakfast, but of course you can eat this anytime.
Coconut Curry with Couscous
(This was inspired by one of Rachel Ray’s dishes, but I added my own spin)
Curry:
Any chopped veggies you have – I like broccoli, carrots, celery, green beans, cabbage, onions, zucchini and summer squash (but you can use anything you have. This is sort of like my end-of-week meal since I use up any veggies I still have to make room for new on Sunday.)
Turkey loin, chicken, tofu, shrimp or only veggies if you want
Olive oil
Minced garlic and ginger and lemongrass (if you have it)
Finely diced hot pepper (or two) or you can use ground
1 cup coconut milk
2 teaspoons (or more if you like) red curry paste
I heat the oil, cook the meat if I am using it to where it’s almost cooked through, but not quite. Then I throw in the veggies and stir fry with the garlic, ginger, lemongrass and hot peppers until they are almost done. Add the curry paste and mix it in then the coconut milk to bring it all together. Salt and pepper to taste and some chopped cilantro on the top.
Couscous:
1 part couscous to 1 part liquid (I use veggie broth)
Broth with the juice of one lime and the zest of that lime as well.
Ginger and lemongrass add a nice touch too (in small amounts)
When the liquid comes to a boil, take the pot off the heat and add couscous, cover for 5 minutes. Toss with a fork and there you go.
Crunchy Fish Filets
(I had some leftover coconut milk and not sure what I would use it for, I came up with this recipe)
Fish filets (I have used Mahi Mahi and Salmon)
Coconut milk
1 egg
Mustard (I used a dill Dijon, because it was what I had)
Flour
Panko breadcrumbs
Salt, pepper, cayenne
It’s a three plate process before it gets to the baking sheet. I seasoned the fish on both sides, dredged in the flour, shook it to get the excess off. The into dunk plate number two which is a mixture of the beaten egg, coconut milk (about ¼ to a 1/3 cup) and the mustard. Then lastly into the seasoned breadcrumbs (I add salt, pepper and cayenne) and onto the pan.
I cooked these for about 8-10 minutes at 350 and then a shot under the broiler to add some color to the top.
For the mahi, I made a peach salsa with a peach, tomato, onion, garlic and Thai chile and lime juice.
For the salmon, I made a creamy sauce with yogurt, lemon zest and juice, finely diced red onions and cucumbers, and a healthy dose of dill (I just love it.)
There were a few failures, and other lessons learned, but I thought I would share the successes, enjoy!!
Food started becoming a way I could show love to my friends and to myself. I balanced my creations with comfort foods like Braised Beef and Buttered Noodles on one side and Fennel and Orange Salad on the other – all in one meal. I noticed the Zen moments I found in chopping and stirring and just playing around with all the utensils when I was living with Guy for a few weeks. After listening to many people complain that coming home to cook was a chore, I regretted telling Guy I would cook dinner each night to pay him back for his hospitality. What I didn’t know until I tried it was how much I loved coming home around 6 p.m. and cooking a lovely meal. I would get all the prep done and start the cooking before I mixed my martini (so as not to forget what I was doing) and found this routine to be sublime.
We dined well on Roasted Chicken with Lemon and Herbs, Spinach Salad with Strawberries and Almonds, Roast Pork with a Mustard and Grape Sauce, Tilapia with Peach Jalapeno Salsa and Grilled Kabob Salad. This honeymoon was short lived, but I made sure to keep the faith. Even while I was in massage school I would cook my own meals, though that was at a time when semi-homemade meant homemade to me (like frozen pasta dishes that I added a couple touches to or Chicken Tonight chicken Marsala.) It struck me then that my love of food was not in the norm. The other students were in awe that I would cook such things especially, “just for me.” See, I had a boyfriend at the time that wouldn’t eat my cooking, not that my cooking was bad, he was just too picky. He liked about five things and preferred to eat out daily. The only time I got to cook was for me. The “just me” attitude floored me. If I wouldn’t cook well for “just me” why would I ever cook for anyone else? To my Oprah-sensibilities I was important and didn’t miss the accusation, instead I ran with it finding more exciting things to cook.
Now it is a way of life, though I am leaning towards a nutritious, healthy side rather than traditional comfort foods. My first step is adding more vegetables to my diet. I am a veggie fiend, but when Dr. Weil recommends eating 5-6 servings a day, even I was stunned about how few I actually ate. Compared to regular America, I eat a lot of fruits and veg, but not enough to be healthy. So now I have crafted some recipes to put more health into my diet while not skimping on taste.
(Note: When it comes to recipes, I usually scan ones I find on TV, Web or magazines, and then see what I can come up with just from memory – both a test to keep my mind agile and a way to let the food muses get their share of playtime.)
Carrot Salad (Two Versions)
(I usually eat this for breakfast since it has a sweet taste and also I just can’t do any bread first thing in the morning.)
Both versions contain:
Matchstick carrots (about 1-1/2 to 2 cups)
Choice of:
Sliced or diced apples
Raisins and/or dried cranberries
Nuts (I prefer walnuts)
Diced hot pepper or scallions (for a punch)
Orange or tangerine sections
Celery
Then to bring it all together I have two dressings.
Vanilla yogurt (I use fat-free Stonyfield organic). This makes a coleslaw kind of salad, but packed with nutrients, a sweet taste and very satisfying texture.
Walnut oil/balsamic vinaigrette. 1 part vinegar to 3 parts oil with a teaspoon or two of mustard ( I like grainy mustards for this) and ground pepper. I toss it over the salad and it lends a rich warm flavor that is also nice for breakfast, but of course you can eat this anytime.
Coconut Curry with Couscous
(This was inspired by one of Rachel Ray’s dishes, but I added my own spin)
Curry:
Any chopped veggies you have – I like broccoli, carrots, celery, green beans, cabbage, onions, zucchini and summer squash (but you can use anything you have. This is sort of like my end-of-week meal since I use up any veggies I still have to make room for new on Sunday.)
Turkey loin, chicken, tofu, shrimp or only veggies if you want
Olive oil
Minced garlic and ginger and lemongrass (if you have it)
Finely diced hot pepper (or two) or you can use ground
1 cup coconut milk
2 teaspoons (or more if you like) red curry paste
I heat the oil, cook the meat if I am using it to where it’s almost cooked through, but not quite. Then I throw in the veggies and stir fry with the garlic, ginger, lemongrass and hot peppers until they are almost done. Add the curry paste and mix it in then the coconut milk to bring it all together. Salt and pepper to taste and some chopped cilantro on the top.
Couscous:
1 part couscous to 1 part liquid (I use veggie broth)
Broth with the juice of one lime and the zest of that lime as well.
Ginger and lemongrass add a nice touch too (in small amounts)
When the liquid comes to a boil, take the pot off the heat and add couscous, cover for 5 minutes. Toss with a fork and there you go.
Crunchy Fish Filets
(I had some leftover coconut milk and not sure what I would use it for, I came up with this recipe)
Fish filets (I have used Mahi Mahi and Salmon)
Coconut milk
1 egg
Mustard (I used a dill Dijon, because it was what I had)
Flour
Panko breadcrumbs
Salt, pepper, cayenne
It’s a three plate process before it gets to the baking sheet. I seasoned the fish on both sides, dredged in the flour, shook it to get the excess off. The into dunk plate number two which is a mixture of the beaten egg, coconut milk (about ¼ to a 1/3 cup) and the mustard. Then lastly into the seasoned breadcrumbs (I add salt, pepper and cayenne) and onto the pan.
I cooked these for about 8-10 minutes at 350 and then a shot under the broiler to add some color to the top.
For the mahi, I made a peach salsa with a peach, tomato, onion, garlic and Thai chile and lime juice.
For the salmon, I made a creamy sauce with yogurt, lemon zest and juice, finely diced red onions and cucumbers, and a healthy dose of dill (I just love it.)
There were a few failures, and other lessons learned, but I thought I would share the successes, enjoy!!
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Hi Ho Hi Ho, It's Off to Vote We Go
I have never been so excited about voting. Twice I checked out early voting and both times Ronn talked me out of it since the lines stretched around the corner and then some. Part of me wanted to stay in line so I could talk to the people and let the effect of the moment arouse my patriotism. But the heat of the day and the standing for hours waylaid that frivolity and instead I waited until the day of. I couldn’t sleep on Monday night.
Before bed I had gone out with friends to dinner and to a Rock the Vote concert event they were doing downtown. We got there around 7 p.m. and it was dead. There were three stages set up; the central Jannus Landing stage, the outdoor side stage and the indoor stage of the Tamiami. During the hour we spent there, we witnessed a band that looked and sounded very new agie meets Jethro Tull rock, but without the flute. You could tell half the band had been rockin’ for a few decades and even though one guy had the most beautiful feathered hair (I would have killed for that back in middle school), it just lacked the emotion I sought in a rock show. Plus this local wonder, called Dream-something, was on the side stage and that brought back bad memories of a birthday concert I attended a couple years back with Flock of Fleabags – a major disappointment.
On the main stage was a band called, Trace of Day, and they seemed young and hip and energetic, but I really wanted to get home to see the SNL show. Tuttie agreed and we left, not really emboldened by the event, but in no way dissuaded by voting the next day.
I went to bed early missing most of SNL, after I had set out my clothes for the previous day and making sure the alarm was set. I tossed and turned and kept wondering if I should just get up and get ready so I could be at the polls when they opened. Finally, at around 5 a.m. I said the hell with it and got up chomping at the bit like a kid waiting for Disney World.
There were about 100 people in front of me at the polls, but the whole experience only took about 45 minutes. I didn’t care. I was psyched. I listened to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” on my iPod and kept my patience with ease. Then off to work.
Election night I went to Ronn’s and plugged myself into NBC news to catch the results. Even then I wasn’t able to relax. I couldn’t do anything more and it was all in the hands of America and I just hoped it would turn out for the better this time. By 10 p.m. I felt more confident and completely exhausted from my short-lived experience of not eating or sleeping. I went to bed, but could not sleep like I should. I was woken up by the phone blaring and Renee screaming in ecstasy that we had won. I went back to my light sleep and still could not grasp the thought that it had really happened. The next morning at 5 a.m. again, my best wishes had truly come true. Oh happy day!
Before bed I had gone out with friends to dinner and to a Rock the Vote concert event they were doing downtown. We got there around 7 p.m. and it was dead. There were three stages set up; the central Jannus Landing stage, the outdoor side stage and the indoor stage of the Tamiami. During the hour we spent there, we witnessed a band that looked and sounded very new agie meets Jethro Tull rock, but without the flute. You could tell half the band had been rockin’ for a few decades and even though one guy had the most beautiful feathered hair (I would have killed for that back in middle school), it just lacked the emotion I sought in a rock show. Plus this local wonder, called Dream-something, was on the side stage and that brought back bad memories of a birthday concert I attended a couple years back with Flock of Fleabags – a major disappointment.
On the main stage was a band called, Trace of Day, and they seemed young and hip and energetic, but I really wanted to get home to see the SNL show. Tuttie agreed and we left, not really emboldened by the event, but in no way dissuaded by voting the next day.
I went to bed early missing most of SNL, after I had set out my clothes for the previous day and making sure the alarm was set. I tossed and turned and kept wondering if I should just get up and get ready so I could be at the polls when they opened. Finally, at around 5 a.m. I said the hell with it and got up chomping at the bit like a kid waiting for Disney World.
There were about 100 people in front of me at the polls, but the whole experience only took about 45 minutes. I didn’t care. I was psyched. I listened to “Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me” on my iPod and kept my patience with ease. Then off to work.
Election night I went to Ronn’s and plugged myself into NBC news to catch the results. Even then I wasn’t able to relax. I couldn’t do anything more and it was all in the hands of America and I just hoped it would turn out for the better this time. By 10 p.m. I felt more confident and completely exhausted from my short-lived experience of not eating or sleeping. I went to bed, but could not sleep like I should. I was woken up by the phone blaring and Renee screaming in ecstasy that we had won. I went back to my light sleep and still could not grasp the thought that it had really happened. The next morning at 5 a.m. again, my best wishes had truly come true. Oh happy day!
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