Sunday, May 8, 2011
She repaid my laughter at her predicament by standing between me and the contents of my pocket lying on the ground nearby and rapidly shook off a gallon of muddy weedy canal water over everything in sight. Including my latest edition of Motorcyclist wherein I had yet to read Big Piner Joe Gresh's take on one more cruising motorcycle. I guess I deserved it but I have so far pulled Cheyenne out of the Blue Hole, a muddy mosquito canal she got stuck in, and my neighbor Phil, the one friendly guy on my street, has fished her out of the canal when she edged too far on the dock wondering where our boat had gone. I hope the fourth time is the charm but I'm not holding my breath. She smells great now after a comprehensive shower she submitted too more meekly than I have ever previously seen.
Mother's day, for all it is manufactured as a point of sale brought some good cheer to the office that day and for that I am grateful. I am also grateful to my own mother who brought me into the world 53 years ago and had the unfortunate fate of leaving me to cope alone when I was just 14 years of age.If you still have your mother be sure to thank her for all the effort it took to get you where you are.Without her none of it would be possible, as short and as troubled as it may be.
Duval Village? Never heard of it, I thought to myself as he moved on and the night moved on and the drunks came out to play. Nevertheless it bugs me when I don't know where something is and after almost seven years of sitting at the radio directing the night shift I am pretty sure I know all the locations and lanes. In fact about once a year some place new manages to pop up and make me ask myself where was that place?
And every time that happens I head out and take a look to make sure next time it's etched in my brain. I guess Duval Village isn't part of my consciousness thanks to my dis-inclination to shop, and these kinds of baubles I usually find with less hassle at the Walgreens Pharmacy on the boulevard, lots of parking and not a lot of dawdling tourists enjoying the day out there.
Who buys this stuff I ask myself, and how many souvenirs do they need to sell to make the rent and payroll? It seems mind boggling to me, a man never trained for commerce.
There it is: Duval Village in all it's glory complete with bar and alcohol as is only proper in Key West.And as for the question who buys this stuff, right across the street I found my answer on the back of a scooter. That's who.
I got home close to seven Saturday morning but I was groveling around with my gorilla pod http://joby.com/store/gorillapod?gclid=CJ7H38_D1qgCFYwH2godwA4gIg and I ended up under the bridge because I liked the look of the pilings in the half light. These are more conventional views from the highway: This is my only road so it shows up from time to time in these pages. http://conchscooter.blogspot.com/2009/12/winter-like-summer.html