I have seen a surprising amount of activity in the housing market in the Lower Keys with repairs, sales and promises of sales pending. Whether they are real sales or the mirage of bank sales, or repos I don't know.
The recent video of a private trader (a man who bets his own stash only) telling the BBC that economic collapse is imminent and thus presents a huge opportunity to any and all, followed by a prominent Hungarian banker saying the same thing, in greater detail, has set some public teeth on edge. Yet each one of us hopes that coming cataclysm will spare us, after all what have we done to deserve eternal poverty and deprivation? We are Americans and have always lived in privilege. I am as guilty as any. My hope is that somehow the storm will pass the Keys by, as these islands are a playground for the privileged. And by God they really do seem that way. People, who I would categorize as insane are building homes even as our economy continues to slide with unemployment rising, production numbers crushed and bail outs continuing apace.
On the edges of this island playground these benign waters accommodate all sorts of floating appliances as a way to get by on the fringe of it all. Be eccentric, add color to the myth of the alternative Keys lifestyle sail with an electric motor and a lawn chair. Life is good when bills are small.
Petroleum based energy is the true currency backing our paper money no matter how much they tell you a gold standard is what we need. We can't do without oil and gas and plastics and electricity and even on Utility Free No Name Key they burn propane. They burn diesel to make electricity and solar panels are just an afterthought. I lived with a solar panel on a boat for many years and it works but just barely. No air conditioning, no hot water unless heated by the sun refrigeration, modestly, by burning propane. It can be done.
As long as the propane company accepts dollars the wheel continues to turn. We seem to be caught in a spiral of diminishing returns from which there is no way out. No one wants to hear the truth that things need to change and suffering will be our portion. The difference between suffering and adventure is all in the attitude and looking around me I don't see middle class adaptability. When I lived off the grid I had no day job and washing clothes in a bucket and drying them in the sun was a day long activity. And they weren't business suits we were hand washing. Dig for Victory was a quaint World War Two phrase no longer appropriate in the age of the smart phone. Sacrifice is not noble they say, and working together is anathema in the land of individualism exasperated. The bears tell us the coming crisis will be an order of magnitude greater than that of 2008, the liars of the mainstream press tell us all will be well, soon. The politicians tell us that their plan will work, their opponent's plan has no hope and ne'er the twain shall meet.
No Name Key still has it's two "experimental" utility poles but the whole huge debate about shipping mainstream electricity to the island has faded for the summer, presumably until the noisemakers return in the winter. I've never really viewed the utility-free island as alternative living because they fuel generators to power the suburban creature comforts the rest of us enjoy thanks to Keys Energy.
And yet pedal power could be viable. But to accept that notion is to turn one's back on all one has known all one's life. Gasoline power rules! Anything else is less, is deprivation. But is it?
Trash is overwhelming us but recycling is a complexity that pushes our buttons. Damned hippies, making life complicated unnecessarily. It's unAmerican isn't it? The trouble is perhaps that recycling, reducing, re-using and conserving should be made most American. Perhaps we should lead the world in figuring out a better way to live, that is to say do with less to live as well. It would take a lot though, to force us to slow down, to change the pace of life. It's almost as though we have to go through wrenching change to force us where we have to go, because there is too much complexity to allow us to let go voluntarily.
A pet dog costs money and eats better than the lowest ranks of human beings on our overburdened planet and Cheyenne adds her own methane quotient to the gases of global warming. I am fond of saying I wouldn't have a dog if people didn't throw their pets away and burden the SPCA, but I am also fond of saying I prefer dogs to people.
I hope extend and pretend keeps going for a while and our crazy unsustainable way of life persists for a few years longer. I'd like to die without seeing another Great Depression in full force or another global war. I'd like to die fat and content in my bed in the same way as my neighbors, if they ever contemplated their own death, would like to go. However the chances of us pressing on without being forced to press the economic reset button seems to be getting slimmer and slimmer. My last hope is that we in the Keys will somehow have that cup of economic misery taken from our lips. I find it terribly ironic that the country that gave us so many of the precepts of Western Civilization may be the same catalyst that brings bus down. It feels as though Greece will only stand as long as her neighbors bail her out, and reports have it European banks have been hunting for spare cash anywhere they can including the pockets of US billionaires. When Greece falls expect more standards of living to decline with it's bankruptcy.
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We decided a while back to install some insulation underneath our home, and this was a very good idea. It probably would have stayed an embryonic idea had it not been for some firm pushing by our friends Lisa and Josh who want to do the same thing on their larger house. So our's was the guinea pig, as it were, the 700 square foot (65 square meter) home which because it was built in 1987 is lower to the ground than Josh and Lisa's newer 1,000 square foot stilt home. Ours may be only eight feet above flood plain but installing strips of fiber glass matting still requires holding one's head back and stretching out one's arms.
Eight hours of this crap yesterday with bits of prickly insulation spilling all over oneself can put quite a dent in the notion of how uplifting home improvement really is. We spent about a thousand dollars on strips of fiberglass in 6 and 3 inch depths, we spent some of that money on staple guns and staples, masks gloves and goggles and we hope this attempt to make our home "greener" will reduce our already modest electricity bills. We generally pay about two hundred dollars a month in summer with the air conditioning and less than fifty a month in winter so it will take a while to enjoy the benefits of reduced costs. The benefits of reduced heat and noise are immediate.
Plus there is the satisfaction in knowing we've done what we can to make our home more energy efficient and that offsets to some degree the absolute agony of my joints and my burning, aching feet.
We took wads of the cotton candy and stuffed them between the wooden joists overhead:
Then we took the thinner strips of insulation and tacked them up underneath the six inch deep insulation strips:
The last step will be completed by a pro who is supposed to show up at some point and tack weather -proof sheeting over the cotton candy to finish the job. It will be brilliant I am sure, and even I think we were all aching by the end of it...
...it was a worthwhile job well done. On another note the greening of our windows was much easier to deal with. Captain Jeffrey, the most talkative window tinter in the Keys, came by and with a splash of soapy water and a few quick slices of his box cutters stuck some really remarkable silver tint on the south and west facing windows and doors. From the outside the effect was astonishing, a pure mirror reflecting almost all of the sun's heat:
From the inside the effect of the silver coating is to give the view a polarized look which is actually quite pleasant:
Additionally Jeffrey added some very dark tint to the sliding doors and the window in the bedroom so now I have a very cool, dark, refreshing place to sleep during daylight hours. It was a nice job, swiftly and efficiently done for $600 by the smiling Captain:
I suggested to Lisa and Josh they might want to do the same to their windows because we all know energy costs are going to go back up and we all want to be ready for the summer heat this year. I can hardly wait to prance around sticking insulation under their house. The purity of self sufficiency has to be enjoyed to be understood.
What the handle came off I can't imagine, perhaps a shovel designed for an eight foot tall gardener. And meeting this dude every day outside my front door would get old in a hurry for me:
On the other hand this haven is entirely irresistible. It came as a surprise not find anyone actually enjoying it:
On the subject of the irresistibly bizarre I thought this was a piece of Adams Family style advertising. "Seats? We don't need no stinkin' seats!" Conch cruiser par excellence.
United Street is a main road leading out of the south end of Duval towards White Street. Its wide and straight and devoid of stop signs so vehicles tend to just whizz along it and I doubt they take the time to check out some of the stuff that lines the street. I was on foot in the baking sun so I had all the time in the world to check out these delightful old Florida storm shutters:
And there is the youth hostel as well, which I had heard was to be demolished. Perhaps the imploding economy saved the Seashell Motel:
I doubt rooms are still $18 a night but I'll bet its still an excellent deal. This place pulses with young people, hormones and bicycles in winter. I have heard that the imploding economy may have done no good for the Spottswood's grandiose plans for the Beachside Hotel (nee Holiday Inn). Rumor has it they can't afford it and Marriott is taking it over. And bang go their plans for a huge indoor convention center across the street from Beachside. I'm sure it's just a temporary setback, so opponents of development might want to keep their breaths bated.
Up the street there was a burst of greenery and someone knows how to keep a pristine yard, I was green with envy:
Trimmed clipped and neat and a flourishing coconut palm glorious in the sunlight, I mean its not like I don't get to see enough of these trees but this was quite a nice example of the breed:
Somebody spends altogether too much time trimming off the dead and half dead fronds off this one. Mine should be so lucky. Oh and this is apparently dentist's row because another tooth fondler has set up shop in the neighborhood. Brick buildings are relatively rare in Key West and when I see one, especially with wrought iron accents they put me in mind of classic Southern architecture.
Fair enough this is no court house or other substantial structure but the bricks, the iron and the shutters give it a certain ambiance in a town filled with wooden houses. This one below is more like it, a hot tin roof with a ridiculous cat walk on the top. One could hardly call this a widow's walk could one? No access, no view of the ocean if you could scale it. No captain's wife anxiously scanning the horizon for the return of the husband's ship.
Other homes in the area have their own, lesser embellishments:
Poetic license allows for the dreaded satellite receivers- two of them!- as embellishments. And let's not forget the charming order to stay out!
I don't know why people disfigure their homes with these signs. Its pretty obvious its a home and if somebody is intent on trespassing a five-and-dime sign isn't going to change their mind. Its just ugly in my view. 
I saw a parking instruction I had trouble understanding based on the fact that the parking area was gravel and had nothing painted on the ground:
I guess one gets to figure out one's own angles. As if we don't all the time anyway when we drive our lumbering cars. And not far away a rather more refined take on the same issue:
The Jeep had the angle thing all worked out without instructions, and wasn't poking into the street at all. The homeowners' association on the other hand took the time to threaten mayhem and towing in no uncertain terms.