In Which I Head Further South

In the previous post, I shared the wonders of Pedro's South of the Border. After a total of 15 hours, we finally arrived in the greater Tampa area. There was a lot of water. Apparently, Tampa is on the ocean. Who knew?

The weather was warm and sunny, and it was a perfect evening to jump in the pool. Apparently everyone in Florida has a pool. Like in the North, everyone has a snowplow. I had many adventures in Tampa. Including a close personal encounter with a crocodile. Ok, it was in the aquarium, but it was still pretty close. The aquarium had a bunch of odd birds running loose inside. They were fascinating to watch.

The real highlight was the manta ray pool, where patrons could pet them! The rays seemed to really enjoy it, swimming right up to the edges of the tank. they feel like squishy, wet, sleek foam.

We also ventured into the wild and wacky world of Salvador Dali. He was nuttier than fruitcake. But his art is rather entertaining and the museum is unique. I think I found his photographs to be the most amusing. There was a car in the lobby that rained on the inside. the car, not the lobby. There was also a hedge maze outdoors, and a bench with the melty clocks.

The day after my arrival, it started raining. And raining. And thundering. So I did not get to the ocean or outdoors for more than a few minutes the entire trip, until the morning we left. Then the summer sun of Florida came out from the clouds, blazing in a sunny burst of happiness. So I finally got to the ocean. It was very warm. I expected it to be cold. Guess I'm more used to the Great Lakes, which never warm up.

In Which I Go South of the Border

Greetings! I am back from beautiful, rainy Tampa. While on a 15-hour car ride, it is important to stop frequently to stretch. The best place to stop on I-95, if passing through South Carolina, is Pedro's South of the Border. It is the most garish, gaudiest, most tourist-trap mini-city I have ever seen. It looks like it must have been the coolest thing ever in 1958, but now it has withered away to "just passing through" status. The stores are tawdry and cheap. The diners look scary. The famous hat shop has fewer hats than your local toy store. On the other hand, it is definitely worth seeing. I couldn't believe my eyes. To make it even better, there are billboards advertising it for a hundred miles in each direction. the website, thesouthoftheborder.com,  has a collection of them to read. It makes driving more interesting, I'll tell you that.

In Which I Live in a Watermelon

The bathroom we had when I was a kid was pink and brown. It had Pepto-Bismol pink floor tiles, sink, and tub, and the walls were tiled in brown. My mother vowed she would never have another pink bathroom. I was certain I would never want to see pink in my living quarters ever again.

A colleague of mine gave me some leftover paint last week. I had been talking about painting my apartment because I am tired of all the white. So I sanded, washed, and painted. Now my bathroom is a very pale cherry-blossom pink. My towels are green. it looks like I have a watermelon room. My brother suggested painting black send on the walls. If I can find a watermelon-patterned shower curtain, I just might do that. It's a little odd, I admit, but it adds some color. It doesn't show up too well in the pictures, due to lack of natural light, but here goes:

Before:

After:

                                                                                      
                                                                                                                                

  



In Which I Camp with Uncle Ted

I spent a week in Chicago recently, visiting a college friend and her family. She has three little boys. We spent a lot of time running and playing trucks. One extremely hot day (over 100 degrees), we stayed indoors and set up the tent to "camp". The boys insisted that Uncle Ted camp with us, even though he takes up half the tent. Uncle Ted is also pretty much useless, though the boys love him immensely. He's also very pudgy.


I'm glad we didn't really go camping because Ted would be very annoying to keep around. He's very sedentary. The boys ran in and out of the tent all afternoon, sang songs, squished as many toy trucks into the test as possible, and Ted just sat there. I will admit that he was a good sport when the boys wanted to play doctor. He let them poke and prod and bandage and give pretend shots. All in all, I guess Uncle Ted's not a bad guy.

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Uncle Ted is a 5-foot-tall squishy stuffed bear.

In Which I Climb Like a Billy Goat

I hiked the famous (infamous) Billy Goat trail this Saturday. It was fun. I clambered over rocks. I climbed a 20-foot rock face.

I saw waterfalls.

I saw crazy Marines running the trail. It's amazing to me they didn't fall and break their necks. It's a very popular trail. Lots of families were out on it, which is a little scary. there's nothing like watching two pre-teen boys wrestling each other for supremacy at the edge of a 50-foot cliff.

I also saw a sign that makes me a little worried about the kinds of dogs people are bringing with them on the trail. I saw a full-size poodle, and a couple lap dogs, and a retriever. But I am concerned that people are not adequately training their dogs to walk out in the woods. Or maybe they are over-training their hunting dogs?

In Which I am 35

I am officially 35 now. I suppose as a woman over 30, I am not supposed to advertise my age. Whoops. Oh well. Feel free to count the wrinkles and gray hairs next time you see me.

After burning my wrist on while cooking my birthday breakfast of bacon and eggs, an adventure was undertaken to Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park. It was beautiful, and also about 10 degrees cooler. it was HOT this weekend. I love going into the mountains. On the way, there is a town called Front Royal. I don't know where the name came from, I'm a bit curious. Was it a fort? What was it a front to? It's a cute little town with a strange mix of family-run furniture stores, antique shops, and wine sellers.

In Which Easter Cometh

I'm a little late, but here's a couple pictures from Easter. I headed back up to the North, drawn, like my Polish ancestors, to fresh Polish sausage and pierogi at the Broadway Market in Buffalo. Yum.........

There were painted Polish and Russian wooden eggs, pastries, and, of course, pussy willows in abundance in preparation for Dyngus Day.