Adventure.

Went on a walk through the Woodley Park area today.

Free-flow: Florida Edition.

Went to Florida last weekend. To St. Pete to see my grandmother and my aunts. Did the usual St. Pete things, I mean, we're from there, so being a tourist isn't really an option. Helped with a crossword in her kitchen, had a glass of coke in one of the old Muppets glasses we used to fight over when we were kids. Opened the refrigerated pantry just to open it. She still makes her own peanut butter. Although the house has been redecorated a bit and the carpet's semi-new, it's still Grandma's house, still my Dad's house. Could even say it's still my house, since it's the only thing that's stayed the same my entire life. I think her grapefruit tree is dying-- but the pineapples are coming in fine; bananas, too. Helped get a branch off the roof. She needs a new tree for the front yard to keep the sun out of the house.

Spent time after time out on Pass-a-Grille. Taking that left turn on Gulf Boulevard and driving under the Don Cesar just like always. The Gulf was blue for me for the first time-- I'd never visited in the spring before. Didn't go near the water, are you kidding? It's April. The Gulf's not for swimming until at least July when it's as warm as bath water and the porpoises are out; you can see their fins crest the water just past the sandbar. I miss catching sand-dollars, live ones, and letting them tickle my palms; watching the coquinas dance in my hand; playing with dead jellyfish that have washed onto shore; stomping on the sand while walking in the water, warning the stingrays that you're coming; bobbing up and down with the waves as the tide rolls in; finding the catch of all catches: horseshoe crabs with their prehistoric armor and finicky legs.

Took a last minute right instead of going straight back to St. Pete one day. Headed out to Fort DeSoto. I think it was the first beach I'd ever been to, or at least that's where the pictures are from. We'd picnic there; less tourists. The current's so strong you can't swim, but the beach is quiet. I parked the car and walked over the dunes on the trail, straight out to the water and stuck my toes in. Freezing. Seagulls were flirting and playing in the surf; I always thought seagulls in Florida really do live the life. I got a sunburn over my left arm and chest on the way home. The sun can be brutal, especially when you're least expecting it.

When not at the beach this trip, visited our usual digs: Harvey's on 4th Street, John's Pass and Hubbard's out on Madeira, Rio's for Cuban sandwiches although he's changed the bread and they aren't as good anymore. I've never been to Florida without going to John's Pass for dinner. Times have changed though, instead of fishing cruises, folks are more interested in casino boats and Jetskis, parasailing and speedboats; dolphin-sightseeing with free beer after 5pm. At least the pelicans still zoom in thinking there's a fishing boat or two bringing in their catch. My family is from Old Florida, before Disneyworld and tacky souvenirs touting girls in bikinis and prideful debauchery. Is the Sponge Market still out at Tarpon Springs? Is the diving still good there? Dad showed me they put Rosewood back on the map after all these years. Cedar Key used to be his favorite place. He used to ride his bike down 30th Avenue and go fishing at Coffeepot Bayou. This is our Florida.

Went up to Ocala for a day to see my other grandmother, my aunt and my new cousins. It's kind of strange having babies in the family again. Nice to see my grandmother's paintings; touching things I used to play with when I was little. Photos of us as kids, of my Mom and her sisters as kids. The couch, the chair, seashells I used to look at as a child, but could now hold and touch as an adult. She had the tea set I gave her for Christmas set up in the kitchen; said she wanted to paint her bedroom in its blues and greens. Mimi always makes me think of the ocean. She grew up on Key West, her family's spent generation after generation there. Maybe the ocean makes people paint beautifully. My watercolours will never be like hers. Mom has one of her paintings of mangrove trees. Going to Mimi's makes me want the ocean. And I can't even swim.

Leaving Florida is always bittersweet. No matter how often you return, it's changed; it's changing. I just hope that I can remember all the stories my Dad's told me. So that I can remember, too.

There will always be more questions.

BBC News | Americas | Washington diary: Virginia Shootings

All this happened, more or less.

Kurt Vonnegut.

Vent.

I don't believe it's a personality flaw to not want to go to graduate school.



That's one of the problems with going through an 'arts'-focused program; sometimes one doesn't need a degree to prove themselves, well, good.



I should just go back and get my biochem degree like I had decided in the first place.


Besides, lab goggles are schexy.

Make it this.

"Take your intellectual life and make it this; immerse yourself, focus. And see what happens."

And so I am. I met with one of my mentors the other day-- I needed help and a push in the right direction; make myself a timeline and write and write. Read, too. Baby-stepping through case studies and nonfiction, old newspapers and interviews; wishing I was wearing galoshes as I wade knee-deep in history; filling up pages in my composition book slowly yet steadily-- reminding myself that the tortoise was the winner in that age-old tale.

Now I have the swimming pool wall from which to push off. Do I know how to swim? No. But I can tread water for as long as I can; maybe I'll even make it to the other side, towards the deep end.

Opening Day.

There are 2,430 games in the regular season every year. Holy cow.

Let's play ball.

Mud.

It's good for you.

April showers are coming.

First grade: Rescued by a neighbor because I got stuck in the mud in a construction site. Lost my shoes.
Second grade: Woods and creek behind our townhouse = fun laundry days for Mom.
Third grade: Mud-fight with all the neighborhood kids.
Fourth grade: Getting my younger brother to drink a "chocolate milk" and playing in the new school's construction site; did you know you can sled on mud?
Fifth grade: Soccer. Rain. Mud.


Earthworms, frogs, stained clothes, footprints through the house: Spring is here.