Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Florida Bay Christmas

The bay runs out to the blurring of sea and sky
ignoring our hunger for the breeze that will not come


Aground on a nameless bar we had lunch
and kedged against tide and breeze
How often does a man get to use an anchor
to set himself free?


Flying low, twenty or more flamingos
passed close at sunset
for a moment
We heard nothing but their wings


Starshine through the companionway
wavelets lapping at the hull
A halyard lazily slapping the mast
the boat, the sky, the sea and I
drift off from the day and into the night


Steel grey dawn slips in
Damp and cool and calm
Flamingos tiptoe through the flats
Snacking on morsels in the mangroves
I cock my head at a sound in the air
The aggregated droning of the cars, boats, and Harleys
Coursing down US 1
invisible at the horizon
The locomotive rumbling of the unstoppable
Idiot Express


There's pleasure in talking
but comfort in silence
The cabin is warm in the glow of the lamp
Christmas night on the boat
No tree or tinsel required




OK, so I'm no Pablo Neruda, but I had to give it a shot. Dad and I spent four days and three nights sailing, drifting, and putt-putting across Florida Bay in Reprieve, and neither of us brought a camera to capture the scene. The breeze, which was pretty strong when we set out, gradually diminished that day and the next, and when we got up on the second morning it was absolutely dead calm. Not a molecule of air stirring, and not a ripple on the surface of the water, either. It looked like somebody had replaced the sea with a mirror while we were sleeping. We made coffee (diner style, perked in a pot on the stove and damn good) and sat in the cockpit taking in the scene and trying to wake up. I bitched about not having a camera, and asked Zeke how we'd ever be able to describe the scene to anyone. How can I describe the mast and rigging silhouetted black against the bright night sky, or the dinghy faithfully bobbing along behind us on her painter? He said that would be a poet's job, which is of course absolutely right on target. Hopefully he'll be able to do a better job than I have so far.

There are so many other things to describe, also, that I don't know where to begin. The weather ranged from flat calm to good 'n gusty, from bright sun to thick fog to rainshowers. We had good food and cold beer (but not quite enough of it). We ran aground and got to kedge ourselves off by ferrying the anchor out in the dinghy and pulling the boat toward it. We sailed back into the anchorage in a squall, missed the mooring bouy a few times, and fouled the anchor lines on the keel. We saw pink flamingos in the wild, and ospreys, cranes, gulls and egrets. A squadron of flamingos flew so close past the boat we could hear the sound of their wings pushing through the air. We had spam steaks, ravioli, and oreos. We executed flawlessly synchronized gybes and got the anchor set the first time every time. We had an encounter with Nervous Ned the Water Patrolman. We nearly swamped the dinghy, twice. We saw the Milky Way and Venus and the Dog star. And we sailed! Glorious reaches that went for miles, close-hauled tacks with the rail kissing the bay, and calm runs in the failing breeze. My powers of description are useless to describe the feeling of ghosting along under a gentle breeze for miles in water four feet deep, watching the shadow of the boat skate across the sand.

I took Zeke back to the airport in Miami yesterday, and he caught up with Judy in B'ham on her way back to the farm from California. I had really hoped that she could have been here, too, for this trip, but they'll both be back in February. I took another day of vacation time today and spent the morning talking to the folks up at Manatee Bay Marina about getting an appointment to have Reprieve hauled out for a fresh coat of paint on the bottom and hull and a few other little projects. She's a great boat, but she's also nearly forty years old, and there are lots of things that I want to fix, maintain, and update. They're booked until mid February, so the timing will be great. After getting that done, I spent the rest of the day on the boat at anchor in Pirate's Cove, just enjoying the day and puttering around. There is no more calming and satisfying experience for me than spending a bright, sunny day soaking up the warm December breezes lounging on the cockpit cusions with a good book and a cold beer.

That whole idea of calming down is one that has presented itself to me in various ways recently. The Christmas sailing experience was one way. When the wind disappeared we had to accept that we coudn't be in a hurry, and getting anxious about "getting somewhere" was pointless. I had a similar experience at Publix last week when the lady in line in front of me announced, just as she put the last of the thousand items from her cart onto the belt, that she had forgotten something and was just going to have to go get it. She wandered off without giving any hint that she was going to try to make it quick. I wasn't in a particular hurry, but dadgummit if I didn't start getting antsy. After a few minutes of this the cashier, still only about a quarter of the way into scanning the lady's groceries, said to "calm yo ass down white boy, ain't gonna make that old woman come back no faster if you act the fool or not, and besides that if she ain't back time I get done scannin' and baggin' all these groceries I'll close her out take care of you". Well. 'Nuff said there, huh?

So calm yo ass down, white boy. I thought of that tonight when I got the first pangs of not panic really but certainly anxiety about getting back to work and getting into whatever crises or melodramas played themselves out while I was gone the last week.
Whatever it is it won't be the end of the world, and sooner or later I'll have enough loot stashed away to take a mental health break, go sailing for a few months, and figure out what's next.

In the meantime, the memories of this Florida Bay Christmas are something I can reach back to whenever I need help calming my ass down when things get tense.

Merry co-opted pagan winter solstice celebration, everybody.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

Dog Dreams

I had a dream last night about archvillians, superpowers, dogs, and the toolshed in the garage at my Grandmother's house. I got out of bed, turned on the computer, and started writing this so I could capture the details, but already I'm having trouble remembering....

There was a monster chasing me, and I was terrified that it was gonna get me. I don't recall seeing it full on, just a blur beside me when it hit me out of the damp, stale darkness of the toolshed in my Grandmother's garage. Somehow I managed to shake loose from that first collision, and run out into the yard and across the street. As I crossed the street the scene changed and I was on the lawn of a pristine white mansion on the shore of a calm lake. The sun was shining, like it had been hidden behind rain clouds that cleared suddenly and was excited to be back in action, and there was a party going on, a family reunion or wedding reception or something like that. I was walking over to one of the tables loaded with goodies when again, blur out of the corner of my eye and something coming fast towards me and I know if it hits me its gonna hurt something awful and I flinch down and just catch a little bit of it on my shoulder. Next thing I know I'm running like a freaking gazelle blazing past trees and houses so fast that they just start to be a blur and then I'm leaning forward so far that my feet aren't touching the ground at all and now towns and forests and mountains are streaking by and disappearing behind me. Aiming low, I skim inches above the treetops and forgetting the mortal terror from a few moments before I start singing at the top of my lungs.

I was so enthralled that I was flying I didn't see it coming at me again until it was too late to veer away from it and not hit the trees below. The blow hit me square on the back, drove me down into the trees and onto the ground. I was pinned by a heavy weight and it was dark again, overpowering cold and blinding dark. I couldn't see it but I could hear it breathing and whispering something sinister but unintelligible into my ear. It picked me up, whirled me around, and slammed me into the ground again. It picked me up again but this time I twisted out of its grip and shot back into the air, flying like superman straight up into the sky.

I don't know how many times I had to dodge the damn thing again, but after a while I realized that if I thought about dogs I would become invisible to it, and could take off in a new direction without it following me. I ended up in an apartment building on a farm where the family kept goats and chickens and dogs in the apartments and had cows penned in pastures fenced with lifejackets. The farmer gave me a rake, and pointed silently toward a hilltop where a single pine tree stood. I walked up the slope to the tree, and as I walked I was joined by dogs and lots of them. By the time we got to the tree there were hundreds of them, and we all turned round three times and lay down.

And that's when I woke up.

Good morning, everybody.


Sunday, December 11, 2005

road trip notes....

I'm not gonna even try right now to go into all the details, but what a great freakin' road trip. From Key Largo up US 1 to Krome, left on 41, and then putterin' along down the two lane across the everglades, through the pineywoods, between the hammocks and on up into old St. Pete. Along the way I took in the sights, met a new friend, did a little mechanicking on the bus, and snapped a few photos. And once I got there it was all fun, food, friends, and foolishness. What more could a man ask out of a weekend? OK, the right six numbers would have been nice, but that probably would have been more than I could have handled.

Right before I left, I hung a little plastic happy meal giveaway elf that bro Jim kicked down to me up in Elkin while we were together at Thanksgiving. There will be more on this subject to come later, and it may well just be a case of my imagination gone wild, but I have a strong suspicion that the simple action of suspending little elf no name may have helped set in motion a great spiraling series of events that will finally, happily, thankfully bring an end to the GAPD of '05. Let's all keep our fingers crossed, OK?




I am feeling a bit more solid about work right now, too. The company party was well done, and it was great to catch up with some folks I haven't seen in years. And to make a couple of new acquaintances. For all of the bitchin' I do about work, I really don't have it that bad. It would be great to feel like I was doing something more, uhmmm....how should I put this..... "worthwhile", maybe? That's a close enough description, I guess. I just don't know what that would be right now, and for right now what I'm doing is OK.


Gotta run now...need to get some sleep tonight 'cause I sho nuf didn't get any last night, and this will be another action-packed fun-filled week at work.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Why lord?

Idiots and Assholes. Nitwits and knuckleheads. Dimwitted ornery nasty mean mofos. Why, lord, must every day bring with it a plague of these pestilent sombitches to my jobsite? It's bad enough that it seems nobody can read a level or turn a true 90, but why can't they at least be pleasant while they're screwing things up? Heck, if you've got a talent, even if it's for being incompetent, you oughta enjoy some satisfaction from it.

Jesus Christ! is the answer if the question is "did you see how they put the caulking in at the windows?"

OK, so I feel a little better to have vented that out. What a couple of days at the old sawdust factory. Client meeting with lots of high anxiety and drama on Wednesday, and an extra helping of squabbling and pouting today. It's truly amazing to me that we ever get anything productive done around here. I just hope I don't have to bust out the old Wooo'Sahhh on their sorry asses.....

Luckily, the company Christmas party is this weekend up in Tampa. I'm gonna cruise up in the bus, take my time on the back roads, hook up with some old friends, get my mind off of the melodrama for a few days.

Serenity now, serenity now.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

Shotgunning...

Just got home from shuffling papers at the jobsite. Not enough time in the day or days in the week to get everything done, much less get it all done the way it all should be. Pay apps, change order requests from subs, field reports from the architect, incident reports, budget adjustments, cost reports, etc etc etc.....I am really frustrated with the way things are going...overall the job's in good shape, but there are so many loose ends to get and keep tied up to make sure things continue to go the right way. I spent 4 hours today just reading through e-mails, letters and faxes that have accumulated since I took a few days off for Thanksgiving, and another hour just trying to figure out what I need to get done next week. Mostly assigning tasks to the rest of the staff and getting ready for the BIG MEETING on Wednesday (the boss is coming in for only about the 3rd time in the 1-1/2 years the job's been going) to go over some sticky issues with the client. Normally I can go into these kinds of meetings knowing I've got 'em all outnumbered and surrounded, by god, no matter how much or how little time I have to prepare. But not this time, for some reason. I've had the feeling I've been running in quicksand for a couple of months, and I have really been questioning whether or not this is really what I want to be doing with my time and energy - my life. All jobs suck, I'm sure, and I've had these spates of discontentment before, so maybe this is just a passing thing and tomorrow, next week, or next month I'll suddenly wake up and realize that I am absolutely head over heels in love with my job and can't bear the thought of having to go home at the end of the day. Right now I need to figure out a way to get over this don't give a rat's ass feeling about it all.

I did get to drive Ruby to work today, so the day wasn't a total waste. I went the long way around using Card Sound Road instead of going up the Stretch, and damn what a beautiful drive. The weather is absolutely sparkling here this time of year, and today was the best of the best. Sunny, with literally not a cloud in the sky until after noon, gentle breeze, no humidity and virtually infinite visiblity. It took every bit of willpower I had to stop at work and not just continue putt-putting along enjoying the day.


Every time I drive Card Sound I think of "Native Tongue" by Carl Hiassen, and look out for flying mice.

So speaking of that kind of thing, I wonder how much my current funk could be related to reading Hiassen and John D. MacDonald? I've read several of their books in the last few months, and I think I may be identifying myself with their villians more so than the heroes. They both weave a strong contempt into their stories for the folks pillaging Florida's natural beauty with bulldozers, and their heroes always seem to careen across the state knee deep in lusty adventures while thwarting the environmental rapists. My job, however, is broke out with bulldozers, dumptrucks, cranes, concrete mixers and such. I haven't thwarted anybody or anything in decades. Don't even get me started on lusty adventures, either. Goddam drought as far as that goes. Do me good to get a dadgum blue tongued mango vole come flyin' through the window for a change. What are the odds....?

I'll work on that tomorrow - right now I've got to go check on the ham I threw in the oven when I got home and get the cornbread started.

Oh yeah, before I go - anybody who's looking for more fine editorial commentary on this most recent and definitely most glorious Iron Bowl should take Joe Bob's advice and check this out.

Eat a peach for peace.....

Saturday, December 03, 2005

Thanksgiving Weekend


Spending time with the Family last weekend in North Carolina was really cool. Especially for a thin-blooded water rat like me. Living an hour south of Miami for the last year and a half has made me a bonfide wuss for cold weather, and as usual I came home from Elkin with my customary cold or flu. Whatever it is, my snot muscle's been working overtime the last few days. Which has given me some time to finish a Travis McGee book and start up on "Sick Puppy". If I could find a way to generate some income from sitting on my ass reading adventure novels like these I'd quit my day job in a minute. Yeah right.

Anyway, when I was in Elkin I got a few good snaps of some of the crew. Young master Roan took this one of me at Elkin Falls. The kid's got an artistic eye at 4 years old. I got a few good ones of everyone but Debbie, dagnabbit. She seemed to be just a little quicker about getting out of the line of fire that I expected. Claire, of course, was extremely eager to get her picture taken, and she is such a happy little imp.

Anyway...more to come later. I've gotta go refill my nyquil drip.

Friday, December 02, 2005

Preface

I saw a girl at the diner tonight wearing a green "not all who wander are lost" tee shirt, perfectly three sizes too small and stretched like a cotton drumskin over her my eyes are up here. She was cute, and she was alone. For a minute. She was on a bench at one of the tables by the window, right behind where I was parked on my customary stool at the end of the counter. She smiled at me when I turned around and I totally lost focus on my, uhm, ahhh, what was I talking about? Oh yeah - the girl. Or more accurately, the shirt. What was written on it, really. Not all who wander are lost. I told her I liked the message, and using a line I picked up from my grandfather when I was a little kid, I asked if she was lost or just wandering. She was about to answer when what must have been her boyfriend slid onto the bench next to her, gave me the old whattahelldayouwant glare, and said "they" were neither. 'Nuf said. With my curiosity thus satisfied, I turned around and went back to working on my cheeseburger.

After I finished eating and walked out of Mrs. Mac's the "not all who wander..." saying was running back and forth in my head like a snippet from "Grandma Got Runover By A Reindeer". I have a ballcap with that saying on it. It's a saying that's popped up in odd places for me recently, and every time I see or hear it I get a vague sort of deja vu feeling. Okay, so I get that same sort of feeling whenever I see a cute girl with a too small tee shirt on, but that's a topic for another day, right?

A couple of years ago I started adding quotes from my favorite authors, politicians, movie quotes, poems, etc. below the signature line on my e-mails. Occasionally I'd put down something that was an original thought, or at least something that sounded cool that I didn't remember for sure that I had heard or seen somewhere else before. Who knows. Anyway, one night several months ago I wrote an e-mail to my dad, and I tagged "not all who are lost wander" below my signature. It felt right. That was a few weeks after my 25th high school reunion, and I think that the experience of spending an evening with a bunch of good people, most of whom I hadn't seen in a quarter century, had cultivated some fertile subconscious thought plot. We had a fairly small graduating class, and I would consider everyone at the reunion to be, or have been at the time we graduated, a friend. I've done a lousy job of keeping in touch. I had wandered off, you see. It was great to reconnect with the folks there. It was sad to learn about the ones who had passed. It was uplifting to see the success that most everyone had enjoyed. Not necessarily financial success, either, although I guess there was some of that on display. It was more success in the sense that most folks were happy and seemed to be living lives that were filled with interesting and worthwhile occupations, healthy kids, loving pets. What struck me as odd, though, was that several of the Class of '80 go-getters that I would have predicted would end up professoring at Harvard, fortune-making on Wall Street, or rockin' in the free world had ended up staying in Auburn. Not that it's a bad place to crib, but, you know, it just didn't seem right to me for some reason. At the time.

Not all who wander are lost.

Not all who are lost wander.

Shuffle the words just a bit and you get two entirely different meanings. Shift the focus from wandering to being lost for a minute, and then step back and see what comes into view.

I have definitely been wandering, geographically speaking. 12 cities in 25 years, plus a couple of years roaming in a 22' motorhome in search of a medical miracle for my sweetie. But looking at other things than geography, I may have been more static than dynamic, so to speak.

Reunions, whether of the graduating class, family, or cell block variety, are notorious for setting off introspective episodes for some of the attendees. I, as I know you are becoming wearily aware, have been engaged off an on in just such an exercise, and that is the reason for creating this blog. I've kept a journal of sorts off and on for 20 years or so, but it's always been very private and heavily guarded. Doing this, getting these ramblings out in the public domain, however small the audience may be, is a step toward wandering in a new direction.

Comments, feedback, accusations, contributions are welcome.