Crocs for NothingZ

Warning: This essay is not about my dog or my motorcycle, it is about my sandals.

You wouldn't know it from these pictures but it has been an exceptionally wet winter, and so far I have slipped down the front stairs of my house-on-stilts not once but twice. My wife blames my falls (neither with any consequences) to the worn out state of my footwear. I took myself off to find new sandals.The Summerland Sandal shop is two miles from home and one cannot shop more locally than that. Plus she keeps a Morris Minor Traveller parked in front of her store. A standard Morris Minor was the first car I ever drove, around a bumpy English field with my twelve year old buddy the proud owner of the car and son of the proud owner of the field. Nostalgia notwithstanding the nice lady told me that Crocs doesn't make pink sandals in my size (large, wide plates-of-beef). Bugger. Wandering Key West in a daze of barely suppressed misery I saw these fine sandals mocking me from the window of a fishing(?) store. I trudged on by, dragged by my dog who was indifferent to my footwear follies. I did however remember that my wife bought me my pink crocs at the Big Pine Flea market, a place owned and operated by an odious Reverend who, on the one occasion I actually met him, gave me the vivid sensation that my hand would rot and fall off if I didn't rush home and wash it immediately after shaking his. My auto mechanics work across from the flea market and their stories about the so-called Reverend are legion. I am amazed they allow children to go to school at his organization, I find it hard to imagine they could possibly grow up to be model citizens. Nevertheless I needed pink sandals. Happily my wife also told me the stall at the flea market is operated by a shop in Key West: Neat Stuff (And Tropical Thrills) sells dust catchers and it's located on Flagler Avenue about opposite the Bank of America, that's the bank that's so big it's actually too big to fail, they say.Loreena reassured me immediately that she sold pink crocs in manly sizes and I went to try some on. These are in fact the trademarked Crocs, not the NothingZ brand that they sell at the flea market.$32 they cost me including sales tax (which Florida rather urgently needs these days), and they fit like a pair of gloves.These sandals are rather brighter than my old NothingZ and I was advised that they are actually known as "fuchsia" not "pink," said the design school graduate. I pointed out that I had very little idea what color chartreuse might be so she advised me to drink some, then I'd know. Which seemed like an eminently suitable suggestion. Meanwhile I am now going to be clad in fuchsia. Tres suave, sez I. I did however manage to resist laying into the other stuff for sale in the store:

I was surprised there wasn't a line of eager shoppers for pink crocs, a line that should have stretched out onto Flagler Avenue.

And there's a whole bunch of other stuff too, for to entice people in. It's amazing what you can pack into a small store front.

Yes, but...I am one of those who find it hard to throw away old clothes. I am by no means a pack rat, but clothes mold themselves to you, fit your life, are there when you need them and walk through the rain uncomplaining or shade you from the sun endlessly, and then when it's time it's time to say good bye. Out with the old and in with the new. I quite liked the nothingZ with their solid metal rivets for the strap:Crocs have a cute little logo at ankle height but the rivets are made of plastic: Rubber sandals like these are something I had to learn to like and it came from boating. Crocs are ideal around salt water especially in the Keys where shorelines are usually covered by pebbles and rocks and walking up the beach involves some amount of pain for the barefoot boater. More traditional sandals made of fabrics do not stand up to the rigors of sun and salt water like these things. I like wearing them when I walk the dog too because if I come across mud or "impassable" water fords in the middle of the track I can just keep on walking. And around here one is so close to sea level that a high tide or a heavy rain can put water just about everywhere. So my crocs sit by the front door ready for me to slip on at a moments notice.It happened that we had bought a pair of rubber shoes at a boat show years ago and my wife wanted to get me a new pair to replace my old blue things. "What color shall I get?" she asked and I replied (incautiously it turned out): " I don't care. Whatever you want." I was busy with more important things on my mind. She returned with the pink nothingZ and asked me sweetly if I'd like her to go back and get something more suitable. "Hell no," I said rashly because I don't give a fig for fashion. I promptly forgot I was wearing pink sandals but it was soon brought to my notice by acquaintances and people who have nothing better to do than read my on line diary. So now I am backed into a corner. And that's the true story of how I came to be wearing pink crocs. (fuchsia).I will miss my nothingZ but who knows perhaps my wife will snag me a spare pair for the day I tire of "fuchsia."

Winter Barbecue

There are times in a man's life when being a manly man is important. Moving a table round the garden for an outdoor party is one of them. It was heavy but we manly men managed it for the party last night.Jan keeps a busy winter garden. This winter has been wet enough his garden has gone underwater repeatedly and his plants struggle to grow in the wettest winter in memory. Jan's raised mango bushes are flowering, a source of pride for our host:Jan owns more than one lot and he has a fabulous jungle out back. Cheyenne was happy. Her host Satchmo was pretty easy going, sitting in the grass and chowing down on...oyster shells. This is his party trick every time Jan and Lucy have an oyster party. Life in the Florida Keys can sometimes be reduced to oysters and beer and a rocking chair in the back yard. Jan has one other attribute, a 1980s BMW R100RT airhead. I sometimes cross paths with Jan when I'm riding into work as he comes home from the Navy base where he has a civilian job. He bought the bike in New England in perfect running condition with the as-new bike cover. Full fairing original saddle bags and only a dead battery to deal with and it runs like a top these days. He loves to tinker.

Jan has satellite TV and the story of the day was the Chilean earthquake causing a possible "killer tsunami" in Hawaii. I haven't seen live TV since we had dinner at Jack Flats a couple of weeks ago.The weather people spent the afternoon with a hard on telling TV viewers how dangerous everything was and how huge waves could curl round and wipe out the city of Hilo and blah blah blah. I don't miss the hype. Looking out the window we had weather of our own. The cold front arrived:The rain passed and 15 minutes later the cool air was moving in. Hawaii was still in crisis because the weather morons were still trying to convince somebody "tragedy" was still possible. Chile is really in tragic shape after an 8.8 earthquake: TV renders everything weird. Here we were talking and drinking and waiting for the birthday girl while on television, in the background, millions were displaced and facing a crumbled future. As Chuck said, before instant communications we just never knew about this stuff. Carol made salad-on-a-stick, mozzarella, basil and cherry tomatoes. Instead of standing around outside we ate them indoors to avoid the (relatively) foul weather.

Cheyenne was perfectly behaved as always.

Chocolate birthday cake with cream and banana filling. I ended up stealing a piece of my wife's slice. I'm not proud of my sweet tooth.

Cheyenne's traveling dinner plate was in the trunk of her kennel.

It was a bit of scene at the house.

This is the kind of place where kids play in the street. Very old fashioned I'm sure, tossing a baseball.

Jan fired up the barbecue with sausages, sweet and regular potatoes and hamburgers. We stood around and criticized, as one does. "That one looks over done..Is that one ready yet?" Zack looks hungry.

Chuck used to work in an oyster bar in Atlanta. Steve was helping.

Darkness falls suddenly in the sub-tropics. Jan had some seafood chowder going at this point. The sausages were crisp and superb. I love sausages and mustard.

I treated this as a meat and potatoes kind of night. Barbara was keeping her distance from my tonsillitis, not the food.

Cheyenne abandoned me and hung out downstairs waiting for scraps to fall from the barbecue or the oyster shucking. Imagine. People Up North are shoveling snow from their driveways. We aren't.

The rain had blown away, the sky was clear, the temperature was dropping to around 60 American/15 Canadian, the moon was full.

I needed to go home, too much excitement for a man running a low grade fever and eating far too much. To her credit Cheyenne came when called; at home we turned up the heat as we are wussies. "I would never elect to live in cold climate" my wife mumbled as she wrapped herself in a second blanket and composed herself for sleep.

Sugarloaf Food Company

They call it the Sugarloaf Food Company because that's where it used to be, the owner told me, though now it is on the north side of the Overseas Highway on Summerland Key. It's easy enough to spot:I am compulsive enough that I would change the name and use the original incorporation papers modified with a "doing business as Summerland..." but that is more a mark of my personality defects than of any problem with their food. Besides, I think people enjoy the quirky absence of corporate conformity and having to ask why Sugarloaf on Summerland gets people talking. Most people (not me) like tot alk when they go out to buy food.Many food outlets in the Lower Keys like to take Monday off so the fact these people are open six days a week is worth noting.
I would have to return without my wife to be able to advise what these things taste like but they were just one item in a whole display case.The staff are uniformly cheerful and efficient, and while they may be friendly they don't seem to forget that sandwiches are food for people on the go. "Organized chaos" one employee laughed. Organized organization I think, masquerading as cheerful chaos.It's not a startling menu but they use quality ingredients and though I have yet to work my way through the menu board I am pretty sure I won't regret going out on a limb.A modern business cannot it seems get by without dust catchers for sale...Perhaps it is a remnant of the boom economy when we could blow twenty bucks on a whim; probably snowbirds still can. We took our sandwiches and coffee outside and sat on the deck in back under an aquamarine umbrella that lent the day a peculiar submarine shade.

A wrap and a quiche and some very good coffee, none of that battery acid extra burnt stuff here. I am a lone yuppie in a world that doesn't seem to appreciate mild sweet coffee anymore. I rate a cup well made if I don't have to tone it down with milk. I took mine black at the irritatingly named Sugarloaf Food Company at Mile Marker 25, on Summerland Key. Everyone wants a water view in the Keys. we got a water glimpse out back:

I wondered how they were going to make it when they opened a few years ago which goes to show how little I know. They do a land sale business every time I drive by and with good reason because the stuff tastes good. If I were driving to Key West I might well stop here for a break before the Big City swept me up.