'tis the season for flip flops

From Tony Carrillo's F Minus

Well, Zeke, they ain't got nuttin' on Pid's beer bottle opener flip flops!

Spanks, Pid, for supplying the snap upon request!

Happily Unchaste, and Dreams

From Hugh MacLeod's gapingvoid.com

Today's What Is Sexy bits (W.I.S.B.s):

Words are, yet again, sexy.

Today's first sexy words came to me by way of my A.W.A.D. missive's thought for the day:

"There are no chaste minds. Minds copulate wherever they meet."
-Eric Hoffer, philosopher and author (1902-1983)

Just may have to pick up Hoffer's The True Believer: Thoughts on the Nature of Mass Movements. Reading Malcolm Gladwell's The Tipping Point has me all a'twitter about societal cause/effect schtuff. If you haven't read The Tipping Point, RUN!, don't walk, and get a copy today. It's an unsuck read.

But, back to my unchasteyness. I may not have (yet) met Hugh MacLeod's mind in person, but his words have caused much copulation in my mind. Mental masturbation? I digress . . .

Hugh's post yesterday included this copulative nugget:

"It's good to be young and full of dreams. Dreams of one day doing something "insanely great". Dreams of love, beauty, achievement and contribution. But understand they have a life of their own, and they're not very good at following instructions. Love them, revere them, nurture them, respect them, but don't ever become a slave to them. Otherwise you'll kill them off prematurely, before they get the chance to come true."

Rock on, Hugh! Here's to not becoming a slave to your dreams. And, to not forgetting them.

From Randall Munroe's xkcd.com

Duuude: It's okay

I shore do lurve Stephan Pastis!


From Pearls Before Swine

R.T.L.B.: Don't be an asshole, illustrated

"It's easier to be an asshole to words than to people" is the hover over text when you view this cartoon on xkcd.com. Ain't it da truf?

Rule To Live By: Don't be an asshole!

Summer Serendipity, Vol. 2

If you're ever in Brevard County, Florida - also known as the Space Coast - be sure to stop by the Green Turtle Market in Indian Harbor Beach. This place was the shiz when it opened in 2000 - the beach, much less the county, is known for gourmet market options. Great wine selection, with tastings on weekends, and they recently opened up a restaurant. FloridaDad had me pick up some Pinot Noir that's hard to find elsewhere.

Could *not* resist buying a bottle of red based on its packaging, with designs on quaffing it during my next Sheena sojourn.

Alas, dumassedness intervened to thwart shared quaffage. Cannot explain how my brain went so slack as to deliberately put the bottle in my carry-on. TSA asked to inspect my bag at the Orlando security screening, and I didn't bat an eye based on the copious electronics traveled with. Dismay descended when they pulled out the bottle. No! Say it ain't so!

Reached for my camera to at least have a snap of it, but I was thwarted again. Ucking camera has a mind of its own about whether or not it will deign to take a snap in low light. Was not to be.

TSA way cool chick to my rescue! And cute to boot. She wips out her camera phone, takes a snap, and asks me for my e-mail address. I viewed the snap on my phone not 2 minutes later. So Sheena, here's the bottle meant for you:

That's What She Said, Redux

Can't believe I beat CountryMouse on this!

From Randall Munroe's xkcd.com

Original "That's What She Said":

Happy Horse's Ass Day, CountryMouse!

So you're starting your forty-second year. Methinks this will be your best, CountryMouse. Everyone knows that 42 is the answer to life, the universe, and everything. Will you share your sage wisdom?

Pid is counting down the days of his forty-second. Funny. He doesn't seem all that wise to me, 'ceptin' for the wiseass part.

Summer Serendipity, Vol. 1

Hawaii was grand. Exploiting the bidness trip for a few days' siesta did not suck, at all. And FloridaDad and SWEJudy's place was swell, beautimous as always. But being back at the daily grind, no matter the lovely latitude, still sucked. Praise Allah for the weekend.

After a great knosh in Melbourne (FL) with Coyote, she allowed as how I had to experience something. Witness, if you will. We made our mosey over Eau Gallie way and strolled around the galleries and antique stores to see the "illegal" art flourishing.

And man, I mean FLOURISHING.

This stuff lifted me out of my descending work funk and slammed me back in the now. To being present. To feeling a high from the energy that this stuff evoked. I'm so glad I didn't stumble on it solo, but had a guided tour from Coyote whose innate artist's eye pointed out the cleverness. The freehand artistry combined with use of stencil and cardboard mad skillz. Equations stenciled atop graffiti - had not ever thunk it.

One of the artists is Clifton Chandler. Shortly after Coyote took me to see it, she ran into the father of a few of the other folks who are working on the piece. There are no coincidences!

Sadly, this ends the great series of snaps captured by the camera so graciously lent by Buckwheat. Dood, how's about I buy it off ya to fund yer SLR purchase?

Get your airboat on!

Accompanied the 'rents to a shindig put on for an association end of year thang. Am feeling quite stoopid that I never knew you could take an airboat ride in these here parts to traipse around the St. John's River. Yes, you can, at the Lone Cabbage Fish Camp.

Here's the ride heading north from SR-520:



Many gators sighted, we stopped to spy one up close and personal.



Last bit of the half hour ride was South of 520 to Lake Poinsett.



Post-ride eats at the fish camp included fried cat fish, baked tilapia, slaw & beans, and yummilicious hush puppies. Seafood *always* comes with hush puppies. Northern climes often uck this up.

News to me in Southern styles is a Bloody Mary served, not with a stalk of celery, but with - ew! - a pickle. Cheek swoonage ensued, and not in a good way.

Head still spinning from the pickle ick factor, upon departure we spied the requisite Southern entreaty to return. Grrr ... Kernan the Grammarian's bile rose. Move that apostrophe, I do dee-clayuh!

From one tropical location to the next

Took a red eye from Honolulu to Orlando by way of Atlanta, and managed to not sleep a wink. Might have had something to do with sitting in the exit row and freezing my ucking *ss off. My feet were warm, tho.

Tip: even tho' you're visiting a tropical clime in summer, remember to bring socks to don on the plane. Feet properly stockinged, stick 'em inside the plastic bags from the blankets that you're still lucky enough to get on overnight flights. Wrap a blanket around your plasticated feet, and you're set!

Was a tad surreal to arrive at FloridaDad's and bask in the warmth and beauty of his home with his fine bride SWEJudy. A nap soon ensued.

All relaxed 'n' stuff from these pretty Islands in the Sun (Weezer YouTube vid).

This Could Be Trouble

Apparently, I'm behind the times. All over, self-serve wine bars are popping up. Did a corporate thang in Honolulu at the Honolulu Design Center, and its Amuse wine bar lets folks pick their grape, slip in a credit card to transact, and drink away. Sheena, I could *so* see a Wine Warped Tour of the country, hiring a Lance to escort us in a high falutin', fancified RV hither, thither and yon to quaff at leisure. You in?



I was agog at the way cool lighting next door in the Stage Restaurant. Me likey!

North Shore Mosey

The fastest way from Kahuku on the North Shore to Waikiki is through the center of Oahu. Screw that. I may not be kamaaina, but I didn't want to miss drinking in all that coastline. As the speed limit on Kamehameha Highway is 35 MPH, there wasn't too much peril in ogling the gorgeousness that is the north and windward Oahu coast line, stopping for last snaps along the way.

Come On, Get Higher

I haven't been able to get this tune outta my pointy head. I've been singing it as I drove all over Oahu, hummed it as I snorkled, whistled it in the parking garage.

It's taken me over. He's playing in Atlanta this month. May have to check that out.

Matt Nathanson, Come On, Get Higher

Shark's Cove

Had grand aspirations to get up early and drive east for the day to Hanauma Bay, but a craptastic headache thwarted me. If not for that, would have been f*cktacularly vexed by the closure of the Kamehemeha Highway for eight hours in both directions. So it's just as well that my slack ass didn't get outta bed 'til after noon.

King Kamehameha, you may know, united the Hawaiian islands and was quite the badass. Or perhaps you know him more popularly from the shout out Cartman gives him in "Kyle's Mom is a B*tch in D Minor". But I digress. As is my wont to do.

My cousin's husband is from these here parts - Mililani - and when asked for good snorkel spots listed Shark's Cove as a fave. A quick stop at Foodland for provisions and snorkel gear (resort rental options were stanky) across the street from the park, and I was set.


Kokopelli was gettin' his snorkel on too.




Sun was gettin' its set on, so I moseyed a bit further west to Haleiwa for eats and a table by the sunset at Haleiwa Joe's. Had the baked swordfish and a mai tai in a signature cup. A non-sucky day.

Update: Darby Conley must have known I went snorking!

From Darby Conley's Get Fuzzy

Sunset

From my lanai.

Soothed and Balmed

When was the last time you slept to the sound of the ocean? An unsuck listen and a favorite thing.

Mai Hana Ino

That's Hawaiian for "do not disturb". Just arrived at my respite on the North Shore of Oahu, playing hooky for a few days before a work thang in Honolulu on Wednesday.

Snaps and descriptions to follow.