Thursday, May 31, 2018

Overcast And Grumpy

I find to my great discomfort I am weather dependent and I don't like gray skies and rain. I have known this for decades and in California when I complained of cold wet muddy winters my neighbors looked at me with disdain and remarked I had never spent a winter in Detroit. True enough.Then I had to survive summers in Northern coastal California, days of overcast skies and sunrise and sunset masked by marine inversion that blotted out the sky for hours every day. I craved Florida. I got Florida. 
It is absurd to allow gray skies and rain to dictate one's mood but I am old enough to know that is who I am. And right now the rain has been endless around here. Wind, gray skies, rain and on and on/ I am sick of it. I am a baby. It's not actually cold butthe grayness inspired me to play with the filter settings on my phone camera. Vivid dramatic I think, at the Waterfront Brewery where I enjoyed their wrought iron art.
Apparently the artist Ryan Stimers does more manageable stuff as well for people who don't need a giant sculpture for their business. Click on his name for the link. I wandered morosely along the waterfront looking for inspiration and i saw two young people loading drinks into a car which struck me as odd as there isn't a supermarket here. No point in over thinking it as they may have been crew on a boat getting stores for a cruise or something but their enthusiasm and good cheer reminded me that not everyone thinks flat seas and overcast are reason to be in the dumps. They were off on an adventure and I was silently grateful to them for reminding me that preparing even for a paid cruise can and should be fun.
I'm not sure if it was a crow on the post but I hoped it was, wished it was, looking out over our lives ready to clean up any carrion that might be found lying on the boardwalk. My wife remarked we haven't been swimming yet this year. The canal has been a post Irma mess for months and now that it seems to be returning to clarity -apologies to the sea life probably wrecked also by our garbage - the weather is not cooperating. In ten days my wife leaves for a month in Italy and she is grumpy at the thought of no swim before her landlocked holiday learning Italian.
And there was another lesson for me, two people enjoying the California-like day in Paradise. They didn't care their expensive vacation was nothing like the brochures; or if they did care they masked their frustration like troopers.
After exercise class I had arranged to meet Nick at Sinz a burrito shop on Duval at Truman. Friends neighbors and stranger shave raved about this place so I sat waiting for Nick who had to park a car, and I took this picture. The tall spindly palm reminded me of California palms that survive the relatively cool harsh climate there. I transported myself to a Southern California strip mall in one photo. 
I suck and do-it-yourself. I never go to Subway because I get anxious trying to figure what to put in the sandwich and the problem here is the  same and worse. Do you want a  burrito a taco or a bowl? Meat veg cheese salad bar salsa choices in rapid succession. Nick cheated and followed my example. We ate out of stainless bowls that most closely resemble Rusty's  food bowl. The place soon enough was packed. 
We had no sauces at the table but they put out soap. I pride myself on being able to cope with the unconventional but that had me floored. Do I put it on the food or my hands? Is it mandatory? Then the staff brought out the artillery and shooed off the invasive pigeons with bright plastic water cannon. Th barbacoa was shredded meat with no sauce. We talked a fair bit and got through the food which was a good deal less inspired than the conversation.
I walked back to my scooter where I found the Simonton Center security guard was hovering angrily over my scooter parked for 75 minutes in a  customer only scooter area. He should have been scowling at the moldy yellow twenty year old Honda Helix next to my silver rocket. These days a ratty old scooter lowers the tone of Millionaire Row formerly known as Key Weird. Boy I was grumpy.
We had dinner with friends twice this past weekend, once out at my favorite Italian Bella Luna on Cudjoe and once at home with the wife's cooking. Last year she took cooking classes in Orvieto and every now and again these amazing pastry balls appear on the table filled with sausage and tomato and spices bursting with flavor. What a concept. I should have stayed home.