Adirondack chair towel tickle

It tickles me that I have a beach towel with an Adirondack chair design on it and an Adirondack chair on which to put it.  Just one of those coincidences that sometimes gets thrust upon us.  I wrestled with a haiku about the subject but was totally defeated by the word Adirondack.

Collecting Shakespeare

One of the things that didn’t make the cut when I moved to Florida last year was my complete set of Shakespeare’s plays (plus the sonnets).  I bought this set some time in the mid-1960’s and, over the years; I just took it for granted that I would always have these little volumes as a reference whenever anything Shakespearean came up.  My rationalization for not packing them is that they were old, faded and dog eared and I knew this here InterWeb thing has everything I would ever need, and then some, regarding any friggin’ thing, Shakespearean or not.

Recently I had cause to look up some niggling little reference to Twelfth Night and I, as is now everybody’s wont, checked out the FAQ on-line.  Although the information was readily available it didn’t satisfy the desire I somehow have to make the knowledge mean something more than just knowing those facts.  I suddenly had the need to read Twelfth Night and maybe, even, vocalize some of the familiar lines and maybe, even, multiple times, the words rolling trippingly off my tongue, enunciating every nuance and rhythm of the text and crossing every “t” which, I learned long ago, made it all sound oh, so British.  Sitting in front of the computer didn’t cut it.

Since I was in front of said computer anyway I slid sideways onto Amazon and confronted the hundreds of choices available, both new and used.  I finally settled on the old reliable Oxford edition of Shakespeare’s complete works, totally annotated of course (I’m good at understanding the text by not that good), and the volume is on its way to my darkling door.

I hope the neighbors will think it’s my television turned up too loud.  Does anybody pontificate whilst standing in one’s residential rotunda anymore?  Et tu?

Girl of My Dreams

Wanting to keep up my last vestige of jockdom after I moved to Florida, I almost immediately joined a Tuesday night bowling league at Manor Lanes here in Ft. Lauderdale.  Suddenly it is 34 weeks later and we closed up shop last Tuesday.  Time sure does fly by when you’re having fun.  Having a weekly event gave my life a bit of stability and oriented me toward knowing what day it was in relation to Tuesdays.  I’m sure other retired folks know what I mean.  My team, named Gorilla My Dreams, ended up in 2nd place (out of 20); missing first by an excruciating three points.  But, hey, it’s still all good.  But, hey, what day is it?

Sunrise in Pensacola

This photograph is entitled “Sunrise in Pensacola 1.” It has been enlarged to 18”x30” and transferred to an artist’s canvas with “wrap-around” edges.  It now hangs on the wall in my office (okay then, really my second bedroom) and, despite my San Francisco-trained reluctance to hang anything over a bed; it takes pride of position thereon.  The photographer is 36-year-old Ft. Lauderdale resident Carlos Lopez and, although he thrives in a (more mainstream) chosen field, his photography is much more than a hobby and is a pleasure upon which to feast one’s eyes:  http://carloslopez.smugmug.com/

Mangos from heaven

This is the mango tree across the street from my apartment.  It’s huge and, although hard to perceive in this photo, there are hundreds of mangos ripening rapidly on its branches.  It’s pretty spectacular as far as fruit trees go and no doubt a boon for the raccoon population in my neighborhood.  At least the raccoons who like mangos, which I suppose they must.  I wish I liked them better.  Mangos I mean.  I like raccoons okay.  They are cute when they are kittens (could that be right?) and probably edible but they are pretty ferocious when they are sitting atop the recycle bin, frustrated they can’t get inside and mad at me for noticing.

Update 5/18/2014:  About 3:30 this afternoon the neighborhood was aroar with chain saws and woodchippers.  So much for anticipating a free mango smoothie in the near future.  The raccoons, squirrels, lizards and untold insect species are probably as disappointed as I am.

Don't text while serving

Becoming a spokesperson for any kind of good works is problematic.  I was reminded of this when I noticed my waiter at California Pizza Kitchen had one of his thumbnails painted bright red.  Upon inquiry he told me it was to draw attention to a campaign to discourage texting while driving.  I Goggled it when I got home and, sure enough, it is a real thing.  It’s called #Red Thumb Reminder (yes, it’s a hashtag) and the next time I went to the drugstore I even took the first step in participating by looking at the nail polish displayed at my local CVS.  Right then and there I decided I would beg off because there are too many choices.

I’m sure it’s a good thing but is it worth it to set one’s self up for the question it engenders?  Ken, my waiter, must have thought so.  It certainly worked on me, meaning it made me aware of the movement but I text so rarely anyway and never while driving.  I certainly don’t need the distraction of having my red-painted thumb flashing before my eyes.  I actually think there should be some sort of signal to remind a person that he or she should never text, drive or wait on a table in a restaurant.

Flip Flops Ahoy!

I don’t usually shop at Old Navy stores but when I need flip flops they are my go-to source.  Even in NYC I would make the trip into Manhattan when my array of flip flops began to show signs of wear.  By “array” I mean two pairs since that is about the number I wear out over a one year (or more) period.  Now that I live in Florida I am finding I’m splitting my toes with flip flops almost every day and as a consequence they are fading faster than I’m used to.  So I drove over to the Old Navy Store here in Ft. Lauderdale and bought three pairs and although they were cheap at the normal retail price they were a highly satisfactory bargain with the storewide sale on that particular Thursday (the flip flops were 30% off).  I don’t think flip flops need to be fancy.  They are the most basic of utilitarian footwear and they don’t need sequins or any other decorative additives to schlepp around the house in or even out and about.  The choice of colors is pretty phenomenal and the display wall is a sight to behold.  Kudos to the display person.  And kudos to Old Navy for appealing to even old army codgers.

Judy Blue Eyes

Judy Collin’s voice has been called “ethereal” so many times in her career that I hesitate to use it here.  But there’s no help for it because sometimes her voice really does seem to come from the ether, to spine-tingling effect.  When I saw her at the Parker Playhouse in Ft. Lauderdale in a one-night-only concert I didn’t know the event was part of a tour to try out her new cabaret act which has now come to fruition at the Café Carlyle in New York City.

It was thrilling to see her again even if her concert proceeded in fits and starts as she fiddled around with dialogue while tuning her guitar and putting up with the comings and goings of what seems to me a disease that pervades theater here in Florida.  People who attend theater here have zero idea what constitutes theatrical etiquette.  They bring food.  They eat it.  They come and go (presumably to the bathroom) as if they were in their living rooms.  They check their cellphones.  They talk back to the performers.  This behavior has pretty much convinced me that it’s not worth attending shows here but I couldn’t resist when Judy Collins came to town.  It was worth it and she seemed to not mind all the crap going on in the audience even though I did.  She was in great voice; strong and vibrant.  She deserves the Café Carlyle and the sophisticated audiences provided there and she has the chops to get great reviews in the New York papers.  Come back to Florida, Judy…I’ll be waiting.