It was a rock lobster......

A laid back hello from the Florida keys. I will be posting from Islamorada where we are enjoying our annual "Lobsterpalooza!" In case you are new to this craziness, its kinda like rifle deer season up north, but with the ocean and MUCH better clothes. Eww to green camo, and yay to beachwear--or just towels. Hey, we are in the keys where anything goes. Less is definitely more--my kinda place! Locally, lobsters are called "bugs" so I say "Bugs Beware" the Michigan Tribe is ascending to harvest you tasty treats! Just a few fun facts--"lobster season", as it is officially known, opens up on August 06 and lasts till March 31, with the best "hunting" done early in the season. Between 750,000 and one million people descend on the Florida Keys annually for the opener. The Caribbean Spiny Lobster is unlike the Maine version as they do not have claws. You only eat the tail of the spiny and the taste resembles the other kind. The spiny grows to full size in 6 months, so they are a more tender, fresher lobster. We go out diving in the ocean or the Gulf of Mexico, in shallow water, which will be around 85 degrees. So in this bathwater, we dive down and use a "tickle stick" and a net to catch the little buggers. You have to tickle 'em out from under coral heads and rocks and then net them. Unfortunately sharks and the dreaded moray eel also find lobster as a tasty treat and so you must be on the watch out for them constantly. Our rat pack has never been bitten or stung even after logging thousands of hours of underwater time. Knock on wood. There are high spirits and camaraderie in our gang along with friendly competition. All of us are trying for "Lobzilla" and the bragging rights that come along with him. It'll be hotter than hell, but with the Keys breeze, it seems more tolerable than the weather we are now experiencing in Michigan. I only go out diving occasionally and prefer to be known as the "sundeck mermaid". Watching from my second floor deck while reading and enjoying a cocktail is way more my speed. I am generally known as a pain in the ass on the boat, anyways. I am a very reluctant participator of rope throwing, anchor pulling, GPS checking etc. No, I remind the others, I do not go on the boat to work and am therefore, much more suited to shore duty. Besides, it's very dangerous to be cocktailing on a boat with waves, and lobster divers and equipment threatening a alcohol tragedy. It's my job to show up dockside with cold beer, or rum drinks, my camera, and a snack for the parched and hungry divers as they arrive. Then it's boat washing and lobster cleaning--all with photo ops and tall (lobster) tales. After showering off the salt water, we either cook in or head out to one of the many area dining establishments for food and more revelry. Watching the gorgeous Keys sunsets while enjoying the catch of the day, and of course, a cocktail, is the religion at hand. The evening ends with a nightcap on the deck and the setting of the alarm for another early departure from the dock. Other activities may include yoga and some walking. I know of a great yoga studio and SHOULD attend a few classes to help keep this vaycay from being a total calorie disaster. There is a local bar that is Michigan owned, so it's fun to go and check out my dear Tigers, too. Sporting anything "Detroit" is fun cuz everyone gives us props for "representin", and respect from those who know Detroit only by it's reputation. I love to set 'em straight regarding our fair city although I don't think anyone ever believes me. Key West awaits with it's usual trove of treasures. Lots of interesting people to be met and beautiful art to view. We usually partake one day and one night of Conch partying and can be found crawling out to our vehicle with only the D.D. lucid enough to make the drive home. The lobster are safe the next morning after all that debauchery. After 10 days of said nuttiness, I will be happy to return home to at least SOME sense of normalcy. Then all that's left is to plan a few lobster themed dinner parties so we can bore our poor friends to death with pictures and our tales of the deep. So if you are interested in lobster dripping in hot butter with maybe some fresh green beans and cornbread, drop by and bring a cold bottle of white wine, we'll try not to bore you to death. Promise....xoxo p.s. Pics to follow!

Take me out to the ballgame.....

A sleepy good morning from this Tiger fan!! Can you believe that my boys hung tough against those Indians to the tune of 13 innings? 12 to 12 in the twelve at 12 minutes after 12? Yeah, baby!!!!! We joke that in our family, baseball is in our DNA. It's practically our religion. My 94 year young Granny Iola still watches or listens to the Tigers. My Grandpa was a noted ball player and coach that drew respect from many. When living in Detroit, he rarely missed a home game. His sons, my uncles, also played and I was old enough to see their talent. Both of their sons were also stars and I loved cheering them on. My own Dad coached many champion ship teams with my brother playing. Sister Lisa, in lieu of a company Christmas party, loaded up a whole buss with employees and sojourned down for a Tigers game. I crashed the party and much hysteria ensued as it was some of the party's first Comerica Park experience. My, son was a great player and I was a great "team Mom." But instead of the usual pop and chips fare provided by most moms, I doled out natural juice and granola bars--much to my sons chagrin. Gotta eat healthy and grow to be big, bad, baseball players, I would remind them. The whole family would get to the games early and claim spots on the bench. Being in northern Michigan in May constituted the necessity of blankets and hats sometimes. But we persevered thru interminable t-ball games that were both really long and really BORING with little resemblance to the real game. But necessary to get the kids ready for the holy grail of Little League. When Dane pitched, I whoo hooed every strike and antagonized over every ball. There was a sorry incidence once, when he called a time out and stomped off the mound and over to the bench for a confab with me. Seems my loud --and in his opinion overzealous cheering was distracting him from his job. Well, EXCUSE me for livin'!!! As many of us can recall George and Ernie were the voices of summer, always on while Dad was grilling. When Alpena won the Junior Babe Ruth WORLD championships, well, I can tell you our whole town was upside down with baseball pride. Which brings me to the Pudge trade. I HATE trades cuz I get unnaturally attached to the players. I have a theory that I am sure would make more sense. I say, why don't we have a draft like in Little League? Coaches would one by one choose their players from the pool and what you ended up with, you had to coach. No more buying a team. Coaches would coach and train players in their weak spots and build the teams talent the old fashioned way. Players would be on the same team for five years and then we could have a re-draft. In the case of the Tigers, I would personally tend to their "hair needs" (Ah.h.h. Magglio) and also lead yoga classes!! I wouldn't have to see fan favorites like Pudge get sent off before I am ready. So, peace out Pudge, I will miss you with your talent, smile and reminder of who really gets the credit--by your sign of the cross. Our loss is New York's gain. xoxoxoo! Oh, and Whoo Hoo!

Can't get enough of your love, babe......

Our dear friends Kelly and Brian got married last weekend. It was a gorgeous day for a beautiful couple. A joyous occasion for a truly connected bride and groom--one that I was honored and proud to be a part of. Yes, I was a bridesmaid--quite possibly the oldest and surely the most jaded one ever. Weren't my shoes HOTT?!! But I digress. As a veteran bridesmaid, this event threw me into reflection on marriage and forever and ever til death parts us. Kelly and Brian have avoided most pitfalls going in as they are a little older than most "first timers", and have been friends first for years. Being more experienced in life, they possess communication and compromising skills that will carry them--also, they are so very much in LOVE. Although I completely support their union, I truly do not believe in marriage on the whole. It's just not for everybody. I think it's a lovely fairy tale with a 50/50 chance at best for success. We are SO destined to fail. So, here goes with my opinion, based on MUCH experience as well as some nature based reasoning. I recommend NEVER marrying before the age of 28 for women and, say, 30 for men. Why? Well, a woman does not even settle on her true personality till around that age. Many of us married young only to wake up one day asking "Who the hell are you?" in the mirror. A man, well, he needs to do what comes naturally and get it out of his system before even THINKING that he has a chance at fidelity. It's just the way we are drawn. I have a theory that marriage is the most unnatural union known to man because of this. Men were designed to "spread the seed" and populate the earth, while woman were set up to bear and nurture the little "seeds." Its just the nature of the beast. Sex and survival being two of our most powerful instincts, it's doomed to view it any other way. Basic and simple, and oh so true. Kinda like poundin' the square peg into the round hole. Anything after that is forced on us by societal rules that deem that we should do quite the opposite. Live together? Ha! How to go nuts in one easy lesson! I think the Native Americans probably had the right idea by housing the women in one tepee and the loincloths in another. Visits were open and liberal and nobody worried about picking up socks or leaving toilet seats up. No fighting over the remote, either. The guys could boast of their hunting and "seed spreading" conquests and the girls could gossip and nurture in peace. Worked for everybody. All doing what came naturally. Unlike us, they were not barraged with images that made them think they were missing something. Or, the pressures and temptations of working outside of the home, television, movies, magazines, computers, etc. And, blessed be, women's bodies were honored in their natural form. What you could see was what you got. So now that we are so "evolved", how can we make this thing work? And where does the love fit in? Love has to be in the form of acceptance, compromise, consideration and respect. And attraction. Kelly and Brian have shown all of these things and more. Everything it takes for a lifelong commitment and to this I say congrats and love, to you both. xoxo

It's My Party.....

So I had a birthday. A BIG one. Always one to keep 'em low key and fuss less, (read: NO PARTY!) this particular one was no different. MY rules. Or so I thought. The calls came in like crazy from friends and family with everyone expressing sympathy and support. A few (drunken!) songs were sung and my darling Emily, age 3, called to wish me a happy birthday, as no day is more important in a three year olds eyes. Some birthday e-mails from my more efficient techie friends. I have a pile of cards that never fail to tickle me. My 94 year young granny sends hers with a return address that simply says "Grandma". It strengthens my resolve every year to be more prompt sending cards cuz it's really cool to receive them on THE day, instead of a week or two late, which is sometimes my style. I recommend one of those calendar books with monthly pouches that hold the appropriate cards--you just have to remember to check it now an then!!! But the biggest surprise--and I usually HATE this sort of thing.... was walking into El Charo to meet my friend Rose, only to be greeted by a small party for a "Sex and the City" themed get together. (Smile and deep breaths, here). She recruited two other friends and it was margaritas around. Cosmos do not work with the Mexicano thing. There were toasts and delicious taste treats. Age comments were kept to a minimum. Rose treated me to a darling personal cake in my favorite flavors. The gifts were sweet and generous. It was truly fun. Now, I am not sure why I get the creepies at the thought of any party--surprise or otherwise--where I am the center of attention. Never having been one to shy away and have rarely "blended in" at any other time in my life, I rather prefer to control my own spotlight. And, I guess it's the old catholic guilt thing rearing it's sometimes ugly head but I just have a hard time when someone deems me worthy of such attention. My Mom is like that too, so I get it honest. It's okay for us to DO nice things, but it's hard to accept them back, along with the perceived pressure attached. This can range from compliments on our appearances to our cooking. Why? It's like some weird form of self flattery or denial or something. Buried under layers of old piousness or self sacrificing. In this world of self indulgence, it strikes me as a very dated ideal. Mine, nonetheless. Anyhoo, the revelry went into the evening with more food, drinks, toasts, gifts, etc. All thoughtful and designed for me. Arriving home tipsy and full, I realized that sometimes letting go of the control is nice and it's okay to give into it. Some things like birthdays are meant to be out of our control and for just one day, I let others do it their way for me. And this old girl LOVED it! Thanks to all of you that respected my NO PARTY wishes. Everything else you said and did was just perfect..Love to you all..xoxoxoxo

It's Independance Day...(or rather was).....

Happy Belated 4Th of July everyone. I spent a long, wonderful weekend at our beach house, with all intentions of posting. Armed with my laptop and my new Verizon card, I SHOULD have been able to sit on the beach and do an inspired post. A more serene setting could not be found to ponder the universe and profoundly post about it. Just sittin' on the beach and writing. My attempt to load up was met with a sort of rude message that my modem was already in use or some such hooey. OF COURSE. Pure serenity was broken by me cursing out Verizon, computers, and the general state of world affairs. Rant, rave, rave, rant. Would it be too much to ask? Can't everything just work as it should? I know, computers are only as good as the schmuck runnin' it. To this I say bullshit! Last weekend when this schmuck loaded it all up, it ran as smooth as silk. Yep. No Problemo. So whussup now? Maybe some kind of satellite overload with all the holiday phone and computer users? I don't know, but since I am rather a weak high tech red neck and I had no 12 year old available to save me, I just trashed the whole idea. Didn't imagine I left too many people hangin' on the edge with bated breath for my next thrilling excerpt, anyway. However, that is not the point. I decided to vent my frustrations with a workout DVD. Maybe a little sweat and releasing an endorphin or two would take off the edge. All tennis shoed up with stretchy band thing in hand, I took out the case. OF COURSE, the DVD was not in there!! ARRGH. More muttered oaths. Okay. So, then maybe I will just hop on the 4 wheeler and cruise the beach or visit neighbors. Change clothes, apply sunscreen, and turn key on Polaris. OF COURSE, the battery is dead. Why wouldn't it be? Just a little less cursing. Okay. Having exhausted plans A, B and C, I was left with very few options. The lawn chair, book and cocktail edged out the nap by a hair. Settled in said chair, with a view of the water and my book, I realized, now THAT'S serenity. And perfection. It's all good. The rest of the holiday went rather smoothly and traditionally, with a chicken BBQ, fireworks and a bonfire. The old fashioned way. Good friends, good food and the perfect holiday for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Hope yours was simple and serene, however you pursued it. xo

P.S. Note the hokey, pic. Forgot to get a beach shot! xo

The glamorous life........

Years ago I found myself single, with an infant son, back home at Mom and Dad's. A situation that I thought would NEVER apply to my life. But, hey, you get no guarantees. Actually single with an infant son was easier than the married option, and Mom and Dad helped me get back on my feet in every possible way. I couldn't have done it without their love and support. xo! So, anyways, I was working in a gym instructing aerobics, (the killer, high impact kind) and weight training 12 hours a day. Yes, I rocked the de rigeuer leotard, tights, legwarmers and high top Reebok's popular at the time. Sorta like Olivia Newton John in Physical, crossed with Madonna. Ewww, but cool enough then. Seems all I did at the time was work and stay home with my baby. A full life to be sure, but I found myself wondering where the "glamour" was. It was completely eluding me. Even just a touch of what the new MTV then assured me was what I needed. Remember Sheila E? I wanted to be her then and I still do. Exotic and worldly was so not me, in sweaty leotards, stuck in a small and definitely NOT glamorous small town. After lamenting my plight to a friend, my world was about to be infused with a touch of elegance. One cold, January day, after instructing my third class of the day, Therese picked me up for a lunch date. Her daddy's chocolate brown Mercedes was shiny clean with the sunroof open. She strode into the gym and ripped the ponytail holder out of my hair and the sweatband off of my forehead. After fluffing up my 'do she slipped on a full length fur only moments ago purchased at the local Sal Val. The Reebok's were replaced with a pair of HIGH heels, and a pair of Ray Bans were shoved on my astonished eyes. The crowd in for their workout applauded the make over. Now, with this decidedly hookerish look we headed out to the Merce-Cruiser. Fur met plush, brown leather. Ah h h h. She then handed me sparkling grape juice in a real champagne glass. There was my favorite lunch choice, M&M's, in a bowl on the console. She had the tape set for--you can guess--Sheila E's hit "Glamorous Life", with "Material Girl" on backup. During my chauffeured ride around Alpena, viewing it's sunny, snowy, winter beauty, I finally felt glamorous. Therese said, "There, girl, it's all you. You are so VERY glamorous!" So, for the next 55 minutes, I was treated to the star treatment, and felt every inch the star with all of my favorite things (except the baby) within grabbing distance. And damn, I looked good. It was the exact thing a tired, sweaty, baby momma needed to get thru. All these years later, I still smile at the memory, and the friend who not only understood, but took the time and made the effort to add sparkle to my life. Don't know special that is to me. Thanks, girl, you are simply the best. Oh, and Mom and Dad for your constantly being there for us. I am truly blessed. And glamorous. xo

Hot child in the city......

At eighteen, I needed to "find myself", and leaving my family home in Ossineke, moved to the big city of Alpena. Two of my girlfriends and I rented an apartment together and what I was sure was to be a very Mary Tyler Moore life ensued. The apartment was in a converted, large, old home in Alpena. There were 5 apartments plus a studio in the place. The studio apartment served as a love nest for a local business man and we loved watching him and his mistress going to fit in a quickie on lunch hour! You might want to adjust that beehive lady, and tuck that shirt in there, mister, we'd giggle upon their exit. Anyhoo, there were approximately 24 people living in the remaining 5 apartments in-- various configurations. The place was a real living organism constantly changing and growing. People coming and going and staying all the time. Sorta like a hippie commune with all of us sometimes eating, sleeping, using each others clothes, bathrooms, cars, etc. Early on we all made a pact that none of us would sleep with each other so as to not ruin the perfect synchronicity we had achieved. My parents were less than thrilled by this little "camelot". One time when I was suffering with the flu, my Dad stopped in to check on me. After finding some pot that I did not have time to stash, (it truly WAS someone else's!) He witnessed the dude from downstairs come out from my shower, dripping wet and wrapped only in a towel announcing that I was low on shampoo. Oh, and "Hi, Dad." See, his apartment had only a bathtub and ours had only a shower, so we swapped alot. Works for me. The same guy also always had diet Pepsi and aspirin on hand for our hangovers, as well as quarters for the laundry mat. Another guy (did I mention that we were the only chickies there?) usually hosted a big Sunday dinner that we could all attend. It was sometimes the only real meal we ate all week--except for my date at Big Boy with my Dad whenever I could con him. All three of us had jobs, but with car payments, insurance, lip gloss, ciggies, etc. there was barely enough money left over for rent--much less food. One friend's Mom worked somewhere that she could give us cases of cranberry juice. This was mixed with cheap vodka that served as our drink of choice and also very conveniently kept us from bladder infections. Double duty! Ingenious AND efficient, we were! The fact that our pad had only ONE large bedroom made sharing sleeping arrangement sometimes rather dicey. Thus sharing with some of the others was sometimes a necessity. Nobody seemed to mind me crashing on their couch or wherever, with my blankee and Barry White (ever faithful teddy bear) in tow. I could usually score something to eat or a cocktail--plus cable! Bonus!! It was sometimes interesting to see what was in MY kitchen tryin' to scrounge up (good luck, guy) breakfast the next day. So, after a period of this craziness, one friend announced that she was moving away with her family and was leaving us in the lurch on the three way rent split. What to do? My remaining friend and I decided that this was the perfect time for us to vacation in Florida to think through our options. Cleaning out our small bank accounts, we headed south to live it up. Arriving home, unspeakably tan, I soon learned that I was being laid off due to job cuts. Arrggh. Okay, no job, no money, and certainly no fun. Couldn't even make one more months rent. Dad to the rescue, again. Shamefully, I was forced to move home. The end of life as I knew it. Goodbye, city life!! Back at the ranch, I had my own private bed, a shower AND a bathtub, no rent, and a full refrigerator. Could be worse right? RIGHT? No more splitting a chicken pot pie--they were 4 for a buck at the time! And cranberry cocktails before noon were frowned upon. But, as always, I survived. Unemployment kicked in till I found another job and another adventure could begin. And eventually, it did. Did I ever find myself? Yeah, I think I did. Just another hard knock with the lesson learned. Blah da blah blah blah. Now that I am secure and more than one mortgage payment away from homelessness, I still love to think on that period in my life and realize it will never be the same again. Thank God. xoxoo