Sunday bull session

Billy the Kid
via wikipedia

It's a lovely day here on Alligator Creek, breezy and hot, about 90° on the screen porch. I have the fan on. I'm drenched but I don't care. I guess I'm acclimated. Across the street, Sonny Boy is holding forth on his screen porch in that booming, gravely voice of his. I catch snippets.

"You gotta have heart. That's what I put on the internet too. You gotta have heart."

"......my daughter, her own cousin says, what a beautiful Italian woman."

He's talking to his dad, who occasionally injects a nearly inaudible but definitely gravely grunt or comment of his own. I can't see them. Palm fronds block the view, as does their screen and the perpetual shadow, as their porch faces north. But I can hear bits of what he's saying over the whir of my fan, the wind in the palms, little seaplanes buzzing up and down the coast, cars whooshing on the nearby road that skirts the ICW... bits and pieces....

"I read the whole biography of Billy the Kid the other day... Died on July 14th, 1881. 21 years-old. Blue-eyed. Weighed 120 lbs... The first time he went to jail he escaped... Went to Arizona on a horse, alone.... Went to New York on a horse, alone.... Mexico, on a horse.... alone.... before he was 21.... He was in the desert by himself.... He had to go to to the Indians.

He has (Yes. He said "has") some brains.... Five hundred miles of desert.... You know his mother was an immigrant... Came over on a boat from Ireland... His mother died when he was 15.... 15... so he started runnin around... got in trouble, whatever... his step-father didn't want nothin to do with him so he went out west... He looked at Florida and said "what the hell?"

Later he switched to personal reflections.

Kewpie doll
via wikipedia

"They had a kwepie doll, know what I mean?... I lost everything I had....bowls, furniture, my gun, everything.... Left me in a little bit of shit.... But anyways, I was packing up to leave, the house was full of crabs and fleas. I had no vehicle, no money, my social security check was cut off..."

Then Mom returned from the ravioli run.

"What the hell is this? Who wrecked this chair? What the hell happened here?"

 Sonny Boy,

 "I put tape over it."

 And thus ended the Sunday bull session.

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And, besides doing this post and going to the beach for while today, I redesigned my poetry site, annasadhorse, and added a new piece titled Music Theory.

Doing lunch with the big birds

Florida. Gotta love it.

Can I has a take out please?

Well, helloooo there!

Mmmmm, what have we here?

Yes, I can has fried 'tatoes.

Nom nom nom

Morning quiz

Morning and it's already raining. This could get interesting. The highest elevation in Florida is 345 feet. That's up in the panhandle. Around here it's about an inch. Well, I exaggerate but not by much. We went on a bike ride yesterday. The labyrinth of canals, creeks, ponds and ditches that hem in the human habitat here is full to the brim.

Which brings us to the morning quiz. "Why did the ICW cross the road?"

Ok. Here's question two. Where the hell is Sonny Boy?

I'll answer that one. He's inside watching TV or something.

Question three. So why is his ancient Dad out sweeping up the rain?

Beach walk

Gulf sunset

There's a ray of light when the setting sun hits a certain declination on the horizon. It only lasts a moment. Some say there's a green flash. I've never seen it. But just now, light from the sun setting out over the Gulf suddenly, for a moment, flared orange through the tops of the trees along Alligator Creek casting the world and the screen porch under its spell.

We took the South Venice ferry to Manasota Key this afternoon. It's a short ride across the Intracoastal Waterway but the only direct access to Sunset beach. Otherwise, its a long walk on the shore to get there so it's a pretty quiet spot. The ferry pass comes with the house we're renting. It's a cool little boat. We took it a lot when we were here a couple of summers ago but today was only our second trip this time, even though we've already been here a month. It has been unseasonably rainy, torrential and unpredictable, so we've been driving to other beaches. However, today we thought we could beat the rain. We figured wrong.

Sea turtle nests and blooming century plants

From the ferry landing, a wooden walkway goes through the mangrove and palm forest to the Gulf side of the Key, From there we walked north and were so engrossed looking for shark's teeth (both of us) and heart rocks (me), being amazed at all the sea turtle nests staked and marked by the Turtle Patrol, what storm surges have done to the shore, commenting on birds, admiring the giant pelican drying her wings in the wind in the top of a tree, admiring the jungle of native foliage and trying to not stare at the gay men in teeny thongs who make this otherwise deserted stretch their rendezvous that we failed to notice the giant, black storm clouds gathering behind us. When we did, we were a couple of miles away from the ferry.

We started back and the wind came up, and with it stinging sand, so we bent our heads down and pushed into it, pulling our hats further and then further over our eyes. Next came the rain, in tropical torrents. By the time we got back to Sunset beach it was deserted. We made for the walkway and hurried across the Key back to the ferry landing. No boat, no phone, nowhere to go, so we sat on the walkway in the rain.

This may all sound very bad but actually it wasn't. I went back to the Gulf to see once more the beach shrouded by the squall. For this moment, this storm, there was nothing and no one (well, except me) in the gray and rain marring the solitude. Empty. And baby turtles gestating in their eggs deep within the sand by the sea. The way it always was. The beach and I were wild again. I stood watching sheets of rain whipping westward over the Gulf, blown by offshore winds, then I went back up the stairs and across the Key to the east, to wait with M. Lee for the ferry, which did come back for us after all.

Senor Raindrop

Some little fellow whose love song sounds like the drip of crazy giant-size raindrops on an amplified tin can has been wandering around the mangroves singing his heart out tonight. It's kind of sad but fits right into the night chorus of buzzing, trilling and croaking that goes on here at the end of the road.

As usual, I'm sitting on the screen porch in the dark. When I'm home, I practically live out here. I love it. I have my corner, table, chair and laptop. Dd the squirrel sometimes drops by in the afternoon for a visit. The screen's between us, but probably best that way. I hate going indoors. Basically, I only go in to bathe and sleep. Well, I go in for our nightly mango party, my favorite. And we do eat a meal together now and then, that's indoors. Mostly we eat over our keyboards. We're feral.

Earlier in the evening, Senor Raindrop (it's late. whatdayawant?) held his song to a monotonous drip ...drip ...drip tempo but, finally, after about three hours of that, he changed it up. He added a rapid dripdripdripdripdrip followed by a slow ........drip ........drip ........drip ........ followed by silence ........ (I assume he's listening) ........ then he begins again with the original mid-tempo and repeats. He's also moving around a lot and, as the night deepens, getting further and further away. Right now he's quiet. It's a big, lonely world out there.

Mango Party!

Alligator Creek in pending rain at sunset

After stocking up on mangoes last Saturday, we had high hopes for the week but things got off to a rough start. Maggots. Our little plan to "follow the mango" sounds great, is great, but like everything else, you can't walk the walk without paying some dues. You want to go to the tree and gather in your own hands it's sweet, ripe fruit? Then you're going to pay some dues.

Mango Party!

Every night we have a mango party here on Alligator Creek. M. Lee halves two mangoes and it's a go. We start by gnawing the pits clean then move on to the custardy goodness of the mango itself. Only last Tuesday, one of the mangoes had a soft spot. Still, being newbies in the world of mangoes, we ignored it until M. Lee noticed that there were little squiggly things in the lovely orange flesh of the half mango cupped in his hands. Maaaaaaaggots! Okay. It was traumatic! Horrifying! Stupefying! Revolting! And for a brief moment, I feared that the dark shadow of trauma would taint my love of mangoes forever but come on! You can't let a few maggots get you down. They're going to win anyway. You know. In the end. It's not the mango's fault. It was a hard moment though. Our faith in Jack wavered, but only briefly. I'm sure he had a maggot or two in a mango now and then by the time he reached his feisty old age. Here's the deal. We've gotten lots of mangoes from the Mango Factory and they are, hands down, the sweetest, tastiest, most delicious mangoes around. So this one was overripe. No big deal. And besides, I wouldn't want a mango that a maggot wouldn't eat. I just want to get to it first.

Nightly no frills mango party

So, as the week rolled on, we got back into the spirit of things, slowly at first but we're back to full steam, though I do look now, something I never did in the past. I'm sure Jack looked too. It comes with the territory.

Tulips

"Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river....."
(excerpt from "Tulips" by Sylvia Plath)

This via Buzzfeed via Brain Pickings. Sylvia Plath reading her poem "Tulips".


I did not realize she was also an artist.

Insect conversation

Insect slow call and answer in monotone rhythm across the brackish swamp tonight. It is soothing, this conversation, in spite of the hollow whoosh of traffic. I wish the humans would just sit down and shut up.

As July deepens

We went to The Mango Factory out on Pine Island again today, Jack's mangoes. When it comes to growing mangoes, Jack made it an art. Back in '64 he planted his seedlings 33 ft. apart so that, full grown, each tree would enjoy full light. Today they're the best on the island. Hell. I'll say it. Best in the world, though we are dedicated to putting that idea to the test. So, with that in mind, we came home with a couple of bags of big, right off the tree, mangoes. Should last the week. Thanks, Jack.

Mango Jack.
What's not to love about this guy?
(picture on the wall at the Mango Factory)

Floridians are funny. Seems a lot of them don't much care for mangoes. Must be those shady backyard homegrowns. Anyway, there was a  good old boy and his wife also at the Mango Factory today. She was walking around the bins, basket on her hip, obviously excited to be at the source while he followed behind, arms folded across his chest, chin tucked down. She'd hold up a mango for his approval and he'd mutter, "I dunno", "You decide", or "I'm not gonna eat 'em". But there was also a fellow there from the Caribbean. He had the Eye. Lucky we got there when we did. Like us, he was stocking up.

Finally a couple of Ibises came by.
They like to graze the grass after a good rain.

As far as life on Alligator Creek is going, DD (Diego's Daughter) the squirrel and I have a nice little thing going but it's very low key. As you may recall, last time we were here, my everyday, all day peanut party turned tragic when the hawk noticed it so this time I'm doing things differently. DD has breakfast, a few peanuts, and that's it until late afternoon. At that point, if I'm on the screen porch, she comes up, looks me in the eye, quietly chitters a bit then goes back down, I follow, put a few peanuts around the Pineapple Palm, refresh the seed for the doves, and that's that. Simple. One other squirrel occasionally drops by which turns immediately into a skirmish but otherwise we have a quiet little scene going. Much as I'd like to be all things to all squirrels, I can't.

Tonight I'm sitting out on the screen porch as usual, the monitor brightness turned to the lowest setting. The frogs are chatting in the dark and the little guy who buzzes like a warehouse buzzer is buzzing back and forth with his friends and Sonny Boy just got back from wherever. He wasn't gone long. He took his mom's car which she didn't seem to be completely down with. He's 51 but you know how niggly parents can be. Usually when he does these little runs it's around midnight, I assume after they go to bed. Also, thunder continues to rumble in the distance and, between flash torrents of rain, guys along the creek are setting off their remaining fireworks. The last ones were directly across from where I'm sitting and just past the mangroves. I'm not wearing my glasses so they were especially sparkly and starry. If that was the last of it, it made for a grande finale. The mangroves are also occasionally back-lit by lightning which is nice and, after a week of really heavy rain, five times the average, Alligator Creek is beginning to smell rather heady, like a swamp.

Road's Eye View

Amid the thunder, rumble, pops, crackles, rips, hisses, thuds, cracks, bangs, shots and blasts exploding all around Alligator Creek tonight for fucking hours now, the cacophony of Fourth of July firework celebrations complete with fragments of a late night drunken domestic argument drifting across the creek, there are creatures in yard, I don't know what ... frogs? ... insects? ... I can't tell, telegraphing each other through the now dark ... extended, one note buzzes and someone, a bird perhaps adding a tuneless, usually descending one note, whistle. Are they assuring each other that it will be, they will be, okay? I'm here. I'm here. We're okay. I don't know but it seems like it.

Pausing to remember

Franz Kafka

Franz Kafka. It's nearly midnight now but still July 3 and therefore the 130th anniversary of his birth. I feel a kinship with him. And the cockroach. So today is also a good time remember my friends Delicata, Nugget and Ha'penny.

Delicata, Ha'penny, Nugget
L. to R.

That is all.

The nothing moments we call our lives

It's been raining for a couple of days now and projections for more run out to the end Weatherunderground's 10 day forecast, well really till the end of summer I suppose. It is the rainy season after all. M. Lee and I got caught in it during a Sunday bike ride, which was fine. It only lasted long enough to get us half soaked so we were dry before we got back to our little cracker shack. Since then the intensity has ramped up. There's a big weather front sitting out over the coast and that's that. Rain. Tropical variety. And since Florida is basically paved over wetlands to begin with, no surprise that the house is standing in water and the creeks and intra-coastal waterways are brimming. Haven't seen any alligators swim by yet but I wouldn't be surprised.

So, of course, as part of my ongoing series of real life videos about nothing, I did a video of Saturday's rain from the screen porch. When we are home, M. Lee prefers to remain inside with the air on but Swami, Minerva and I spend most of our time out on the porch. It's really quite lovely there.

A day gone by

Coffee with friends in the morning, then the gym, home, lunch, errands then the beach, Casey Key north. The shore there is buried in crushed shells. Hard walking but we went a few miles up then back. Storm surge is eating the beach, undercutting banks and trees, piling sand on stairs protected by red "Private - Keep Out" signs. Incoming tide this afternoon. It was a bit rough and seaweedy but warm and I stayed in for a long time standing up to my neck, facing the Gulf's western edge, rising and sinking in waves that mirrored the sky...mercurial blue, white, silver waves reflecting the blue and billowy white cloud sky above the horizon which disappeared every time a surge fused them, sea and sky, making the world suddenly austere and slightly threatening.

Future histories tonight and as the century wears on

If you haven't read Jeff Goodell's article in Rolling Stone do. Goodbye, Miami is a must read. And it's not just about Miami or coastal cities. In the overall, it's a peek at the future history of human life on earth.

As for what's going on tonight here on Alligator Creek, lots of ambient sound though traffic on the nearby through street is beginning to settle down at last as is the white noise whoosh of the Tamiami Trail and, just as different sections of an orchestra rise then give way others, the occasional sound of an AC unit snapping on in this, or one of the other two inhabited houses on our dead end street, punctuates the air or the sound of voices or a dog barking in the distance drifts across the water and the squawks and chirps and rhythmic buzzing in the mangroves rise and fall and night settles down around the Gulf and turtles begin crawling up out of the sea to dig their nests and lay their eggs, I notice the sound of palm fronds stirring in the breeze. Eventually I'll hear the gurgles, slaps and splashes of the creek talking to itself and aquatic beings moving through its water.

Morning after the storm before

A frog is happily chirping under one of the palm trees this morning. Doves are cooing in the trees and all across Alligator Creek birds are twittering in the mangroves. I even hear traffic coming from where giant green lightning flashed last night and yes, I'm here listening to it all from the screen porch which I'm currently sharing with some nasty little no-see-ums who must have squeezed in last night to get out of the storm and also survived to see another day. That is all.

Supermoon (and Pluto) report

Last night when I saw photos of the supermoon people in London were already posting it was just too much. Clouds be damned! I grabbed my camera and we took off for the jetty. We got there about a half hour before sunset.

Fisherman on the jetty

The minus tide and soon-to-rise full and super moon made fishing good for everyone but the fish. Pelicans, egrets, dolphins and humans were all working one angle or another with a fair amount of success.


I positioned myself at a prime location on the rocks but out on the jetty there's an unspoken agreement that fisherman outrank photographers so, when a mouthy Jersey guy grandpa (that's him on the left in next photo) started maneuvering his flock toward where I obviously was waiting for the moon, I had to move.

Supermoon conjunct Pluto rising.
There are astrological implications.

Lucky for me. Checking my trusty Google Sky Map app, I saw that the moon (surprise surprise) conjunct Pluto was already above the horizon which meant that, clouds or not, the moon was behind those trees to the far right. Damn! While I stand photographing my phone.

YIKES!

We scrambled eastward. Of course the supermoon was mostly hidden by the clouds but we got a good bench with a view and sat. It was a beautiful night, though a bit on the chilly side, 90 degrees, but it felt like 80. I guess we've adapted. Anyway, we sat on the bench and took in the evening and what there was of the moon as people on the next bench over chatted away....


...while a group of people across the channel sang their moonstruck hearts out in the dark.

Full supermoon on Alligator Creek

OK. That's it. I'm sitting on the screen porch. It's midnight. There's a huge thunder storm going on. Rain is pummeling the tin roof. Thunder is shaking the floor and making the wall tremble. It's like bombs going off. Giant lightning bolts are touching down all around cracking like horrible whips. I shudder and cringe like a poor dog. In case this is the last thing I ever do I better post this now.

No moon but a big moon

It's cloudy here this evening so there's really no point going to the beach in hopes of seeing tonight's Supermoon. And, if it's anything like last night, the minus tide will also be a bust. But last night there sure were a lot of those tiny burrowing clams writhing in the sand, in a good way of course. Anyway, happy moon watching if you're lucky enough to have clear skies tonight and, it was Friday, but happy summer solstice.

Colbert Report...Rep. Steve King wants Chickens to suck it up.

Conservatives, gotta love 'em or not. Rep. Steve King claims he has a better way for chickens to live and Steve Colbert is all over it.

Minus tides

We were out at the beach today at the beginning of a minus tide. That's what you want if you're looking for shells and shark's teeth. The Gulf of Mexico is full of teeth, millions of years of teeth. But it's always luck o' the wave. Today I came home with only one decent tooth but seven excellent small conch shells, the kind hermit crabs inhabit, and a spiral. Taking them away from the sea, the birth water, taking them "home", inside, washing the sand off of them later felt bad. When Thea and Leo come I will scatter them back on the beach for them to find.

Poca Piña

She has her father's tail but she lives in her mother's house, the giant pineapple palm in the front yard. It was Frida's sole domain when she was alive. At that time it was pruned but has since gone wild. It's not as "lovely" but safer which is a good thing because the hawk is about. From where I sit I used to be able to see palm trees in the background, making for some damn lovely photos. Now Frida's palm is a jungle galaxy all its own, both dead and alive, stretching it's gargantuan radius in all directions. It is on a feeding frenzy like the humungous cannibal galaxy NGC 1132 was before it devoured all of its neighbors. I even fear for our little cracker palace.

Poca Piña

Anyway, Poca Piña lives there, which makes me very happy.

Frida's daughter and the old man and birds by the sea

Morning on Alligator Creek
another in my scintillating series of real life non-action vids
Life is good again on Alligator Creek. Sonny Boy was back on the screen porch this morning putting the record straight. I was beginning to worry when he didn't come home Friday night. It just wouldn't be the same without him. And the peanuts did disappear the same day I put them out. We saw her this morning up in Frida's pineapple palm, one little squirrel, surely Frida's daughter.

And we finally got out to the Gulf today and the old guy that the Great Blue Heron found so fascinating when we were here a couple of years ago was there today, sitting in his chair reading as always. The Heron wasn't around but I am going to assume he will show at eventually. The frigatebirds, known to stay aloft for over a week at a time, were there floating on the currents, the magnificent pelicans soared by and the water was 86°.

The Cheap

I've been meaning to write about this for awhile then, after Alligator Creek Update, Don from In A Perfect World asked about finding cheap getaways in real neighborhoods with real people, i.e. places to write. Always the question, isn't it?

This place showed up on craigslist and it's a GREAT deal, half off because it's the low season. Traveling off season is one of the key elements for us to be able to do what we do, plus renting via P2P sites like AirBnB and VRBO. Lucky for us all, it's worldwide. We get cheap places with kitchens and mostly cook variations of the Caribbean diet...rice, beans, veggies, sometimes a little fish or cheese, oatmeal for breakfast, sack lunches, leftovers for dinner. That kind of thing. We drove to Florida but otherwise we use public transportation and walk ...all easy on the pocketbook. Also we avoid "nice" restaurants, coffee shops and fetching little sidewalk cafés plus neither of us drink or drug which keeps expenses down. Mostly we live like the rest of the neighborhood except that I go to open mic poetry events but they're free and, of course, internet is essential. Okay, a lot of this is lifestyle but, for us, P2P rental is essential. Did I mention we don't skydive, zip line, shop, ride elephants etc. etc. You know. Cheap.

Alligator Creek update

Florida.

I started this in the morning while sitting here on the screen porch drinking coffee but now it's night and I'm back and at it again, this time listening to an exotic cacophony of birds. And, though it's nearly full on night, billowy white clouds are still visible in the sky. As there are no city lights to speak of, I wonder if it's light reflecting off the Gulf? Anyway, we are back staying in the little shack on Alligator Creek. We got in about 3 AM this morning but I'm still on Pacific time so I'm not that tired plus it's really hot. It will take a few days to adjust.

As for South Venice, not a lot has changed. Seems Sonny Boy is still living across the street with his decrepit parents. At least this morning they were all out on their screen porch running it down to each other in very loud, very raspy voices. It was quite the lively discussion. Then a smoking car pulled up and he left and he's not back yet, or at least he hasn't assumed his usual post on the screen porch. Ah well. It's Friday night but I hope he still lives with them. I like hearing the drift of his phone conversations at night and seeing the glow of his laptop through the porch screens. Tonight, it's just me out here on this dead end street sitting in computer glow in the dark that has settled over Alligator Creek. But who knows what's going to happen next? Currently there's a hand-scrawled "4 SALE" sign stuck at a crooked angle by their mailbox. And no matter what, his mom and dad, though miracles of modern medicine, won't be around much longer anyway.

And so far I haven't seen one squirrel. It's only been a day but I have seen two hawks or one twice. When I was here last time this place was a frolicking squirrel playground then Frida was killed by a hawk. I'm afraid I upset the balance by putting all those peanuts out. Will I put peanuts out this time? Yeah. I suppose. Does that bother me? Yes, but I know I'll do it anyway. It's a conundrum. I know it's self-serving but I need/want to have wildlife around.

Other than that, Barky the dog and his family are gone. According to Zillow that house was foreclosed. It's really dark now and I don't see the clouds anymore nor are any birds singing.

Florida again

Florida

Tampa Bay bridge aka Sunshine Skyway Bridge at 2 AM. Hey Florida! We're baaaack.

Swami and Minerva
crossing the Tampa Bay bridge.

Heart home

Thea and Leo at Farmer's Market

Once again, our time in Portland has come to an end. Tomorrow we head back to Florida for the summer. It's been a great visit, but not without some trouble. Last week, Thea came down with a terrible cold but it's on the wane. She even managed to dance in her ballet recital yesterday. Luckily the other two grandkids. Frank and Leo, have stayed healthy. I've been far too busy with the kids to keep up here. Later. Right now, I'm beat. Must sleep.

Another thing I love about Portland

Snapshot lost in time

This will have to be short. I'm in Portland and it's a whirlwind. Today we took Leo and Thea to the Children's Museum. It was a blast. Yesterday we walked to opening day of the neighborhood Farmer's Market on Woodstock Ave. Great people watching, true Portlandia, complementary doggie water bowls in the garden, a pair of overweight Labs at one, drowsy Goldens at another and  charming mutts lounging at a third.

Running recap, take 3.

I recently downloaded the Blogger app for my android. At first I was elated by the prospect of writing and publishing as the freeway miles unroll behind us but now, after a couple of posts have been devoured by the void, things don't look so rosy. Of course, it's probably my fault or at least the machines are very good at making it look that way. I told myself to jump right back in and rewrite them while the words still hung in the air but I was too damn frustrated.

Sunday morning in New York
with family.

Anyway, just to say by way of recap, the wedding event was simple and sweet. They were married in December so this was the blessing presided over by my, almost a priest once, brother-in-law. That's him, top photo (r). Great guy.

My sister, aka mother of the groom

Tonight we're in Georgia. We spent the afternoon walking around Savannah. The old town center is perfectly beautiful, historic and a shallow tourist trap but it works for me. We had a great lunch at the Sentient Bean, a local veggie cafe/coffee shop. They were even hosting an open mic tonight. I considered reading. I'd love to have added Savannah to my world tour list but we have a really long day tomorrow. We drive to Venice, unload the car, drive to Tampa, spend the night then get up at 4 am and catch a flight to Portland. Got to see the grandkids don't you know.

"Life is worth living"

Those four words are posted at the entrance to New York's Verrazano bridge. I hope they have successfully persuaded would-be jumpers to reconsider. Life is worth living. Even so-called "dead ends" generally turn into new beginnings if you give them time enough.

NYC from the Verranzo bridge

Swami & Minerva crossing the Verranzo bridge

Bye-bye Brooklandia

Leaving Brooklyn. Most perfect weather we've had here... blue blue blue sunny skies after two weeks of mostly rain, wind and cold. But of course I don't complain. Just report.

The wedding was a great success... beautiful, sweet, tender, sad and, well, cold which will make for a warmer memory. Pictures to follow, probably.

So...next stop Wilson, North Carolina and a "tasty" dinner tonight at the Golden Corral because we can piece together a cheap vegetarian meal there. If you don't know what that is consider yourself fortunate.

The Wedding Party

Ok. D-day. In one half hour we're off to the wedding party. It's really the reason behind this whole trip to DC and NYC. To celebrate our nephew's recent wedding. We are wearing grown-up clothes. My stomach is full of butterflies. Why? Sad isn't it? M. Lee just googled how to tie a half-Windsor knot. I'm wearing heels, well they kind of look like motorcycle boot sandals but they have an elevated heel heel like ladies wear. Ok. Gotta go.

Ps. The half-Windsor looks good.