In One Ear ...

More and more, I see guys wearing
their caps backwards, the bill hanging
down the back of the head.
What’s with that?
The bill of the hat is meant for sun protection.

I also see people running around in the
blazing sunshine with their sunglasses
perched on top of their heads.
Okay…
The next thing I'll see will be hearing
impaired people wearing their hearing
aids in their noses.

As our kids are growing up, we go out of our
way to protect our children.
I always cringed and comforted the kids
when they would get badly skinned knees.

I was waiting to be served at a bookstore café
once when a very nice looking young college
fella stepped up to the counter.
Wedged inside of both earlobes was a black
plug, the size of a wine cork.

I was envisioning the size of the needle
for that piercing. He told me it hurt a lot
at first. No kidding…!
Where did he get that done,
Big Bruno's Piercing Palace?

A pretty young gal was sporting two nose
rings, a lip and tongue piercing, and several
piercings along her outer ear.
Won't she feel dumb when she's 50...
Nose rings--big ouch, but a good place to
hang the car keys.

Paul has a snook swimming up his arm--
a small tattoo he got a few years ago, when
we moved here to Naples, ’snook land’.

Paul said there was some pain.
No way would I go out of my way to pay
someone to stick a needle in me.
Getting my ears pierced years ago
was pain enough.

Jen fell into the trap as well.
It seems to be a very sporty thing with
women to have a pierced navel.

Jen tried hiding the fact with longer t-shirts,
but being the wise mom detective that I am,
the little bulge gave away the ghost.
Busted!
She said I should get one too.
Yeah, when it snows in Florida!

Hook, Line and Sinker...

It’s Tom’s fault.
The fishing disease, that is.
It’s rampant like a virus in Jen and Paul’s lives.

When Paul was around 9 years of age,
Tom took him down to the SF Bay near
the San Mateo Bridge to fish.

Paul had never been, and it really didn’t take
long for Paul to get hooked.
It was like he’d been born with a fishing rod
in his hands.

We took several fishing trips to gorgeous, scenic fishing
holes in Northern Cal: The Russian River, Eel River,
the Trinity River; also lakes and streams in the Sierras,
and Mammoth Lakes, CA.

Needless to say, when Paul grabbed onto the sport,
Jen followed up.
She is as addicted to fishing as Paul.
Both are now avid fly fisherman as well.

Jen's abilities and bright personality has
offered her a few photo shoot opportunities with
advertisers and the Collier County Tourism Bureau.

Jen is in a fisherman’s paradise--Key West.
She and Paul play phone tag relating their fishing tales.
Yes, it’s all Tom’s fault--
and I’m glad the kids share this wonderful sport.

Boiling Points...

It’s been extremely hot and humid lately.

We’re in Stuart, Florida for Sunday-Monday.

It feels like we’ve been transported to Hell,

it’s so uncomfortable.

I wish I could shed my skin.

Paul ‘s fly fishing this Monday morning, at Bathtub Beach

on Hutchinson Island.

It’s 9a.m. and the temp is already 87 degrees.

Tom and I are watching the manatees swim by, while Paul’s

hooking up on snook and tarpon.

The bath house is under renovation, otherwise we’d be swimming.

After an hour or so of being deep-fried, we leave Paul

and we head to the historic downtown waterfront area

on the St. Lucie River.

Jen had told me about the cute shops and galleries.

The breeze is blowing, cooling our damp skin.

Tom is an outdoor, no shop kind of guy.

He wants to be in the High Sierras, smelling clean and cool

mountain air and swimming in June Lake.

Tom has Nordic-Germanic blood.

He would’ve been a great Mountain Man, like Jedediah Smith.

Tom and his dad used to swim in the cold, San Francisco Bay.

Florida is the polar opposite.

Water temps hover at 90+degrees in the summer.

By noon, the air temp has reached 95.

The heat index is 102.

We look like we’ve just come out of the drink, our clothes

are hanging in damp folds.

We dart in and out of the frigid stores.

Ahhhh…

The people in Stuart are sweet as punch and I sure

could use a rum punch or mojito about now, but alcohol

makes me feel warmer.

After another hour of hot-footing the town and eating lunch,

we’ve plunked ourselves in an air-conditioned library.

Tom reads Barron’s and I catch up on Dave Barry books.

We finally pick up a very hot and tired Paul, and begin
heading home.
We’re trying to find a gas station with cheap gas.
Sometimes I feel like we’re the Griswold’s on vacation.

We blunder into the first station, promising 4 cents

back with cash.

Ha-- only if you pay at the pump, which Tom doesn’t.

Just a block away we see gas 8 cents cheaper.
That makes Tom even hotter under the collar.

We’ve made headway onto the 95, until…

a multiple car pileup has stopped us.
Of course, the two left lanes of traffic are merging over

to our lane. We’re not going anywhere.

We’re traveling at worm speed…

After 20 minutes and several demolished cars
and suv's later, we’re driving non-stop.

Finally, we’re on Alligator Alley.

Naples is a good hour and forty minutes away.

Meanwhile I’m watching cruising alligators in the canals.
I've counted 12 already.

There’s something comforting when you finally make it home…

the driveway never looked so good.