Hey, Hey We're the Monkeys

Took the last train to Clarksville and look who met me at the station. Guess that'll teach me to be a daydream believer. I should have known. Good day Saturday, signing books at the Altamonte Mall to raise money for Adult Literacy. Thanks to all who stopped by! Great fun. Great cause!

The good stuff:

Steak and bourbon mushrooms

Florida resident discounts

Pumpkin Pie Blizzards

New projects

Islands of Adventure

Stalagmites and stalactites

Putting faces to names

Colombia -- St. Augustine

Blown glass jellyfish

Trying out catch phrases

Drum line

I love, love, love roadside tourist traps. They're just chockful of these ticky-tacky tchotchke gems. Somebody actually set up a production line where they said: Okay, what we need it to glue these cowrie shells together, give them straw hats and stogies ... and, oh yeah, a drum. I found this drum line at the Florida Citrus Center in St. Augustine: "Home of the 13' Alligator!" I loves me some Stuckey's Pecan Log, and growing up, I remember a place, in Nebraska, or thereabouts, called Horne's Corners, that had a beehive behind a glass wall. Without these places, I wouldn't know about Sea Monkeys, Magic Rocks, Mexican Jumping Beans and Saltwater Taffy.

The good stuff:

Pecan Logs

Jawbreakers

Mexican Jumping Beans

Sea Monkeys

Magic Rocks

Saltwater Taffy

Horne's Corners

Truck stop pancakes

Novelty trucker caps

Bobbleheads

Russians Love American Music

Blue
From Three Houses Copyright 2008, Brad Kuhn & Darlyn Finch

There's a shade of blue
I call "Wild Blue"
that makes me think of France
or Kansas
depending on how pretentious I'm feeling
or how much I've been thinking about wine
"Cornflower" they'd call it
in men's shirt catalogs
"Cerulean" to poets and
fashion-forward writers of couture copy
I guess because it's hard to get people
to break off an extra $20 for "Yonder."
It's free in November
Sky

There's a shade of blue
I call "Sweet-Jesus"
that makes me think of dancing in biker bars
hands cupped on the denim-clad curves
of a big-boned gal
hanging on for dear life
eye to eye, knee to thigh
grinding her gears
She sucks breath through clenched teeth
as my fingers find and linger on
the thin spot
that makes her think of past mistakes
and ones she'd like to make again
Indigo

There's a shade of blue
I call "Lucille"
that makes me think of Kansas City,
New Orleans, Memphis, St. Louis, or Chicago
Digging glassy-eyed Buddhas with their mad, mad mudras
using horns and crying guitars
to rip the hearts out of suckers like me
who pay for the privilege
of having the surgery performed by professionals
instead of the dull knives of the back-alley butchers
back home
Cobalt.


Blues, jazz and tag art (the russian sax man was painted on a construction fence in Key West)--a few of my favorite things. Here are a few more . . .

The good stuff:

Folk songs sung at the top of our lungs, with a Bob Dylan accent.
Playing guitar till it twangs out of tune.
Swapping family stories and laughing until our faces hurt.
Loud, clumsy, wonderful sibling reunion.
Being reached via Facebook, because my phone is on silent.
Watching my daughter leave for school, driving herself for the first time.
Getting a phone call from my daughter (unsolicited) and hearing she arrived safely.
One day off
With four bottles, you get a wine bag, free!
St. Augustine

Kokomo

In the Florida Keys, there's a place called Kokomo. At least that's what the Beach Boys say. They made that up. But if there were such a place, I figure it would look like this row of Key West cottages. My Key West photos look great by themselves, but, as with yesterday's bagpipe busker, I'm finding that water color seems to capture the vibe of the place --- reality in a blender, served with a slice of lime. I was half-tempted to photoshop a red bike into the picture, just because.

The good stuff:

Rain on a tin roof

Coconuts - unless you've parked beneath a palm tree

Banana daquiris

Mango groves

Key lime pie for breakfast, lunch and dinner

Family reunions

Rites of passage

A well-stocked library

Ceiling fans

Big fluffy bathrobes

Mallory Square

"Jumping the Shark" is an entertainment term inspired by a later episode of the 70s sitcom Happy Days, when writers, desperate to hang onto a falling audience share, had Henry Winkler's character Arthur Fonzarelli, jump over a shark tank on a motorcycle -- for reasons that have been lost to time. Today the term is broadly applied to any form of entertainment that tries too hard. Of course, if jumping the shark were an actual form of entertainment, you'd probably find it at sunset at Mallory Square in Key West, and the guy or girl jumping the shark, would also be juggling fire. I don't know whether fire juggling is required to get a busking permit in The Conch Republic, but everyone does it. A guy on a unicycle limbos under a stick, juggling fire. A few feet away, a guy on stilts juggles fire. And across the square, a magician does card tricks and, . . . you guessed it. A troupe of trained six-toed cats . . . no, THAT really would be jumping the shark -- besides, cats don't have thumbs. The guy I feel sorry for is this fella, who trained his whole life to be a Key West fire juggler, only to discover, upon arrival, that he had to learn to play the bagpipes if he wanted to stand out. Personally, I'd have been more impressed if he'd juggled flaming bagpipes. That would  have been entertaining -- and noble.

The good stuff:

Circus supply stores

Afternoon naps

Dessert first

The way sportscasters' heads explode during the week that professional baseball, football and basketball seasons overlap.

Calliope tuners (who juggle fire)

Dueling dulcimers

Rain, out of season

Charity that begins at home, but spills over into the community

Flannel pajamas

Flan

 

Eventually zebra came to regret the condo

The good stuff:

wrens

juxtaposition

song parodies

candy corn pumpkins

sitting side by side because across the table is just too far

planning a family visit

dreaming of Tuscany

exercising the right, and privilege, to vote

dancing through life

the first honk of geese

the last honk of geese

Feliz Dias de los Muertos!

A detail from one of the Day of the Dead dioramas Darlyn bought me on Olvero Street in Los Angeles.

Day of the Dead celebrations in Mexico can be traced back to the indigenous cultures. Rituals celebrating the deaths of ancestors have been observed by these civilizations perhaps for as long as 2,500–3,000 years.[1] In the pre-Hispanic era, it was common to keep skulls as trophies and display them during the rituals to symbolize death and rebirth. more

The good stuff:
 
Trick or treating by pedicab.
Only 24 more hours of political ads
Renewing acquaintances
Family reunions
A buck by the lake at dawn
Sandhill crane couples
Morning fog
Wrestling a goal to reality
Fondue forks
fondant icing