Whenever my husband used to come visit at my parents' house, he almost never got the same reaction from Polar, the family dog. He could walk in the house and Polar would greet him, with his tail wagging, pressing his wet nose against his hand, looking for a pat on the head. But if he, say, forgot something in the car, and left for a minute to get what he had forgotten and came back, Polar might start barking, like he does when a stranger comes to the door, seemingly forgetting that his nose was pressed in the same person's hand only moments before.
Tay took to saying Bye Polar everytime he left the house only it wasn't "good bye, polar, catch ya later", it was "Bi-Polar", as in you're a crazy dog with two seperate personalities and I never know which one I'll get when I return.
He said it affectionately, and over the years, even I found myself calling out Bi-Polar, when I left the house and he would wag his tail and look at me with his mismatched eyes, the one brown and one blue.
We got Polar after our first dog, Geisha, died and of course I thought that Polar could never replace Geisha, the collie with the delicate name that I loved so much. But I think we appreciate pets, dogs especially, differently as we grow older - the love that I had for our first dog was nothing compared to the love that I developed for what I initially considered to be the replacement dog. And at first, I didn't respond to Polar's frenetic energy that was such an extreme to Geisha's gentle ways, nor did I realize that this was to be expected of a dog that was old and tired, compared to a puppy that was young and eager. I got used to Polar's mad energy, his endless excitement, the circles he would run when he was happy when we came home.
None of us that lived in the house could ever deny Polar anything, and we broke all the rules when it came to training pets. We fed him from the breakfast table, scraps of toast that he would go crazy for, fed him from the dinner table, scraps of anything, really, which he eagerly consumed. We stumbled on his love for ice cubes accidentally, when someone dropped an ice cube on the kitchen floor and he dove for it, and all anyone could hear was the satisified crunch of him chewing the ice. We let him in the living room, and into our bedrooms, and couldn't really bare to see him outside by himself and sometimes, when we felt he deserved an extra treat, we'd pat the sofa cushion next to us and then, when one of our parents would find matted white fur all over the cushions we'd be bewildered. "He must of climbed up on his own when he was home alone," was the theory, even though a lot of the times, he would be hanging out in the basement when we were all out.
My father tried his best to train our frenzied little dog, and would order him out of the living room when he tried to follow us kids in there, and my father would discourage us from feeding him at the table. He was trying to set an example to the rest of us, and while we never really listened, Polar did to a certain extent - running from the living room when he heard my father's footsteps coming up the basement stairs and throwing himself on the kitchen floor, sprawling out like he'd been there all day. Polar knew when to break the rules and how not to get caught, and sometimes, perhaps when my father thought we weren't looking, he'd break the rules for Polar, patting the floor next to his recliner so that the two of them could watch television together. Or tossing the dog bits of food from his dinner plate because he got a kick out of seeing Polar jump in the air to catch whatever morsel was headed his way.
My father couldn't resist him either.
During the time that I lived in Halifax and Tay lived in Denver, we did most of our communicating online, both of us logging on at an agreed time every night. We'd spend hours typing back and forth to each other and Polar took to keeping me company into the early hours of the morning. What I remember distinctly about that time was the nights that I would sit and stare at the computer screen and miss Tay desperately. We lived apart, in different countries for about fourteen months, and at twenty years old, fourteen months seemed like forever. I'd never really understand sadness or longing really until that point and it was quite possibly the first of the adult emotions that I would feel. While it might have been unfamiliar to me, it was recognizable to Polar and he would always, without fail, get up from where he was sleeping next to my desk and would nudge his nose against my leg and onto my lap and he would stare up at me, again with the brown and the blue eyes, and I would stroke his fur and sometimes I would cry and lean over and hug our dog and Polar, Polar never minded when his fur became damp from my tears.
I moved away from home at the end of those fourteen months, followed Tay to Vancouver and from there to Toronto and didn't get home to visit nearly as much as I would have liked. But when I did travel home, about once a year, sometimes twice, Polar always seemed to recognize me and would always wag that tail of his when I walked through the door. He would run circles and when I would leave again, I'd chirp Bi-Polar, and know that he'd be there, waiting, the next time I came home.
When I visited last year, in late October, Polar still remembered me but he didn't run circles the way he used too, nor did his tag wag quite as fast. He'd get up to greet me, but it was a struggle for him and I swallowed hard when one of my siblings had to show me how Polar sometimes needed help getting to his feet. They'd let him out the back door to go for a pee and after he was done, he stand at the bottom of the porch stairs, waiting for one of us to come help him up and I would watch my brother go to him and gently lift him into his arms and carry him back indoors. He had gotten old, when I was busy living life on the other side of the country and everything about him seemed tired, even his teeth which could no longer crunch ice cubes the way they used to. Before I left, my father cautioned me that this visit might be the last visit that I would have with Polar and that I should be sure to say goodbye before I left. I sat with Polar one evening, and thought about those nights when I needed him and he was there, his head in my lap and the comfort that he gave me. On that night, he sat with his head on my lap, and I stroked his fur and murmurred soothing, comforting words to the dog I loved. I don't know who was comforting who.
Except that it was.
Stacy told me earlier today that they would be taking Polar to the vet tomorrow, when both my parents are back and can be there to say goodbye. When I got her text message today, I sat in my office and bit back tears, and reread the text messages we had sent back and forth throughout the week as we talked about our puppy with the mismatched eyes.
My brave baby sister told me about taking care of him while my parents have been away, how hard it's been to see him suffer. I don't know how she's managing, how she's going to manage tomorrow. I remember getting Polar when I was probably in my teens, I imagine my sister doesn't ever remember him not being a part of her lives. I know that I could have done what she's done all week, but I don't know that I could do what she's going to do tomorrow.
I don't know that I could say Bye Polar, the proper way, and this time for good. This, right here, is the only way that I know how, and even this doesn't feel like enough.
Bye, Polar.
Tay took to saying Bye Polar everytime he left the house only it wasn't "good bye, polar, catch ya later", it was "Bi-Polar", as in you're a crazy dog with two seperate personalities and I never know which one I'll get when I return.
He said it affectionately, and over the years, even I found myself calling out Bi-Polar, when I left the house and he would wag his tail and look at me with his mismatched eyes, the one brown and one blue.
We got Polar after our first dog, Geisha, died and of course I thought that Polar could never replace Geisha, the collie with the delicate name that I loved so much. But I think we appreciate pets, dogs especially, differently as we grow older - the love that I had for our first dog was nothing compared to the love that I developed for what I initially considered to be the replacement dog. And at first, I didn't respond to Polar's frenetic energy that was such an extreme to Geisha's gentle ways, nor did I realize that this was to be expected of a dog that was old and tired, compared to a puppy that was young and eager. I got used to Polar's mad energy, his endless excitement, the circles he would run when he was happy when we came home.
None of us that lived in the house could ever deny Polar anything, and we broke all the rules when it came to training pets. We fed him from the breakfast table, scraps of toast that he would go crazy for, fed him from the dinner table, scraps of anything, really, which he eagerly consumed. We stumbled on his love for ice cubes accidentally, when someone dropped an ice cube on the kitchen floor and he dove for it, and all anyone could hear was the satisified crunch of him chewing the ice. We let him in the living room, and into our bedrooms, and couldn't really bare to see him outside by himself and sometimes, when we felt he deserved an extra treat, we'd pat the sofa cushion next to us and then, when one of our parents would find matted white fur all over the cushions we'd be bewildered. "He must of climbed up on his own when he was home alone," was the theory, even though a lot of the times, he would be hanging out in the basement when we were all out.
My father tried his best to train our frenzied little dog, and would order him out of the living room when he tried to follow us kids in there, and my father would discourage us from feeding him at the table. He was trying to set an example to the rest of us, and while we never really listened, Polar did to a certain extent - running from the living room when he heard my father's footsteps coming up the basement stairs and throwing himself on the kitchen floor, sprawling out like he'd been there all day. Polar knew when to break the rules and how not to get caught, and sometimes, perhaps when my father thought we weren't looking, he'd break the rules for Polar, patting the floor next to his recliner so that the two of them could watch television together. Or tossing the dog bits of food from his dinner plate because he got a kick out of seeing Polar jump in the air to catch whatever morsel was headed his way.
My father couldn't resist him either.
During the time that I lived in Halifax and Tay lived in Denver, we did most of our communicating online, both of us logging on at an agreed time every night. We'd spend hours typing back and forth to each other and Polar took to keeping me company into the early hours of the morning. What I remember distinctly about that time was the nights that I would sit and stare at the computer screen and miss Tay desperately. We lived apart, in different countries for about fourteen months, and at twenty years old, fourteen months seemed like forever. I'd never really understand sadness or longing really until that point and it was quite possibly the first of the adult emotions that I would feel. While it might have been unfamiliar to me, it was recognizable to Polar and he would always, without fail, get up from where he was sleeping next to my desk and would nudge his nose against my leg and onto my lap and he would stare up at me, again with the brown and the blue eyes, and I would stroke his fur and sometimes I would cry and lean over and hug our dog and Polar, Polar never minded when his fur became damp from my tears.
I moved away from home at the end of those fourteen months, followed Tay to Vancouver and from there to Toronto and didn't get home to visit nearly as much as I would have liked. But when I did travel home, about once a year, sometimes twice, Polar always seemed to recognize me and would always wag that tail of his when I walked through the door. He would run circles and when I would leave again, I'd chirp Bi-Polar, and know that he'd be there, waiting, the next time I came home.
When I visited last year, in late October, Polar still remembered me but he didn't run circles the way he used too, nor did his tag wag quite as fast. He'd get up to greet me, but it was a struggle for him and I swallowed hard when one of my siblings had to show me how Polar sometimes needed help getting to his feet. They'd let him out the back door to go for a pee and after he was done, he stand at the bottom of the porch stairs, waiting for one of us to come help him up and I would watch my brother go to him and gently lift him into his arms and carry him back indoors. He had gotten old, when I was busy living life on the other side of the country and everything about him seemed tired, even his teeth which could no longer crunch ice cubes the way they used to. Before I left, my father cautioned me that this visit might be the last visit that I would have with Polar and that I should be sure to say goodbye before I left. I sat with Polar one evening, and thought about those nights when I needed him and he was there, his head in my lap and the comfort that he gave me. On that night, he sat with his head on my lap, and I stroked his fur and murmurred soothing, comforting words to the dog I loved. I don't know who was comforting who.
I'd like to think that I comforted him, a little bit, the way he comforted me all those times.
When I left at the end of that trip, I put a smile on my face and called out "Bi-Polar!" as I left for the airport and refused to accept that it would probably be the last time that I would say those words.Except that it was.
Stacy told me earlier today that they would be taking Polar to the vet tomorrow, when both my parents are back and can be there to say goodbye. When I got her text message today, I sat in my office and bit back tears, and reread the text messages we had sent back and forth throughout the week as we talked about our puppy with the mismatched eyes.
My brave baby sister told me about taking care of him while my parents have been away, how hard it's been to see him suffer. I don't know how she's managing, how she's going to manage tomorrow. I remember getting Polar when I was probably in my teens, I imagine my sister doesn't ever remember him not being a part of her lives. I know that I could have done what she's done all week, but I don't know that I could do what she's going to do tomorrow.
I don't know that I could say Bye Polar, the proper way, and this time for good. This, right here, is the only way that I know how, and even this doesn't feel like enough.
Bye, Polar.
Last week after we finished running around getting me my new ID we stopped at Danier to see if they had any more of the wallets that I had gotten for Christmas (and that I, ironically, had bought a second one as a birthday gift for a friend of mine that loved mine so much). I didn't hold out much hope that they would have one, at least not in the color that mine originally was (eggplant), and particularily because the wallets were marked down from $59 to $29. It was a long shot but we tried and the ladies at Danier were nice enough to check their computers to see if they could track one down for me at some of the other stores. They did find a couple downtown but both of them were black and I hesitated when they told me this but then, stubbornly, said that I wanted purple. Or red at least. I didn't want green, since that was the color that I got for my friend and black is just boring. Some would say that you can barely tell that the purple one is purple because it's so dark that it almost looks black except that it's not. It's purple. Or rather, eggplant.
They kept searching through the inventory in the system however and found one in Burlington that they managed to have sent out for me even though they don't usually do inter-store transfers on things that are on sale for $29 but it so happened that the manager at the store in Burlington used to be the manager at the store that I was at and she was happy to send it out. I got the call today from Danier that my wallet was in and stopped on my way home to get it.
And then, when I got home from work this evening there were a bunch of envelopes waiting for me with replacement credit cards and client cards and I conveniently had a brand new wallet to put them in. After dinner, I set about calling to activate the credit cards while signing the back of each card. As I dialed the RBC activation number, I flipped the card over to get the Visa number and realized that my RBC bank account is still listed under my old name whereas all the rest of my ID has been changed to my married name. And of course, when I flipped both cards over, I had signed them using my married name.
Hello, my name is _____?
I ended up having to talk to three different RBC phone operators to explain what I had done and I think they all thought I was an idiot by the way they laughed at me, but of course each of them were men and they likely have never gone through a name change and had various pieces of IDs with different names on it. Or had two different signatures. Or ever had to differentiate between Miss, Ms or Mrs for that matter. (I insist on using Ms even though I've been told before I shouldn't because I changed my name and therefore I'm clearly married and that Ms. is only used when you don't know if a female is married or not. And I think that's stupid. Just because I changed my name doesn't mean I HAVE to be a Mrs., which I find outdated and offensive and ridiculous. But I suppose there are those that could argue that changing your name is outdated, offensive and ridiculous). The second guy I spoke too suggested that I just change the name on the cards to my married name and I agreed to do that but when he transferred me to the third guy, I was told that in order to request a name change, I would have to go into a branch with official ID. I would have thrown my hands up in the air if I wasn't holding a phone in one hand and a Visa in the other because the last thing I want to do on this weekend is go into another branch to request new cards when I had done that the week before.
I said I didn't want to have to do that and he agreed to send me out a new Visa and client card, both of which should be here in five to seven business days but he did encourage me to go into a branch sometime soon and request a name change so that the cards would match the rest of my ID. Sure, I said. I'll get on that as soon as it becomes important enough to me, which right now, it's not. I barely even use my RBC cards anyhow, opting to use our joint CIBC cards for all my daily banking.
Of course, when I cancelled my cards last week, RBC had put in a request for a new client card for me and then I went into the branch to request a temporary one and once they issued the temporary card, it submitted a request for another card that would replace my temporary card. The card that was already in the mail when I requested the temporary one was 10, the temporary card was 11 and number 12 would also arrive and it was the card that I was meant to use. Of course, I opened up the envelope that had number 12 in it and THAT was the card that I mistakenly signed because it would have been too easy if I had signed number 10 the wrong way.
They kept searching through the inventory in the system however and found one in Burlington that they managed to have sent out for me even though they don't usually do inter-store transfers on things that are on sale for $29 but it so happened that the manager at the store in Burlington used to be the manager at the store that I was at and she was happy to send it out. I got the call today from Danier that my wallet was in and stopped on my way home to get it.
And then, when I got home from work this evening there were a bunch of envelopes waiting for me with replacement credit cards and client cards and I conveniently had a brand new wallet to put them in. After dinner, I set about calling to activate the credit cards while signing the back of each card. As I dialed the RBC activation number, I flipped the card over to get the Visa number and realized that my RBC bank account is still listed under my old name whereas all the rest of my ID has been changed to my married name. And of course, when I flipped both cards over, I had signed them using my married name.
Hello, my name is _____?
I ended up having to talk to three different RBC phone operators to explain what I had done and I think they all thought I was an idiot by the way they laughed at me, but of course each of them were men and they likely have never gone through a name change and had various pieces of IDs with different names on it. Or had two different signatures. Or ever had to differentiate between Miss, Ms or Mrs for that matter. (I insist on using Ms even though I've been told before I shouldn't because I changed my name and therefore I'm clearly married and that Ms. is only used when you don't know if a female is married or not. And I think that's stupid. Just because I changed my name doesn't mean I HAVE to be a Mrs., which I find outdated and offensive and ridiculous. But I suppose there are those that could argue that changing your name is outdated, offensive and ridiculous). The second guy I spoke too suggested that I just change the name on the cards to my married name and I agreed to do that but when he transferred me to the third guy, I was told that in order to request a name change, I would have to go into a branch with official ID. I would have thrown my hands up in the air if I wasn't holding a phone in one hand and a Visa in the other because the last thing I want to do on this weekend is go into another branch to request new cards when I had done that the week before.
I said I didn't want to have to do that and he agreed to send me out a new Visa and client card, both of which should be here in five to seven business days but he did encourage me to go into a branch sometime soon and request a name change so that the cards would match the rest of my ID. Sure, I said. I'll get on that as soon as it becomes important enough to me, which right now, it's not. I barely even use my RBC cards anyhow, opting to use our joint CIBC cards for all my daily banking.
Of course, when I cancelled my cards last week, RBC had put in a request for a new client card for me and then I went into the branch to request a temporary one and once they issued the temporary card, it submitted a request for another card that would replace my temporary card. The card that was already in the mail when I requested the temporary one was 10, the temporary card was 11 and number 12 would also arrive and it was the card that I was meant to use. Of course, I opened up the envelope that had number 12 in it and THAT was the card that I mistakenly signed because it would have been too easy if I had signed number 10 the wrong way.
One Big Giant Freckle (Or a Million Little Ones)*
2 Comments Published by Tawny on May 21, 2009 at 6:28 PM.
I had an appointment this morning and the woman that I was dealing with asked where I've been because she hasn't seen me in forever. It hasn't been forever, I see her every month but maybe it felt like forever to her. I'm often not very nice when I go to these appointments and so I would think that she would have been happy to NOT see me for a few weeks but perhaps I'm not as rude or as difficult to deal with as I like to think I am. In fact, I can be quite nice and I know this. I was very nice to the guy at the organic butcher this evening and he was very nice to me and we were like one big happy family with smiles all around.
I explained to the woman that I had been in Florida for two weeks and she arched an eyebrow at me and said, "Really? You don't LOOK like you've been to Florida."
I looked down at my arms, at the tan I had worked pretty damn hard for, and looked back up at her. "What are you talking about," I said. "Don't you see how tanned I am?"
She blinked, as if she had missed my glowing bronzed skin the first time and then she shook her head. "No way," she said. "My coworker was in Florida and she came back and SHE'S tanned. I mean, she's really dark."
"I'm really dark," I protested and she shook her head again. "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "Do you not remember how PALE I am? THIS IS DARK."
When I got to work today I mentioned to a coworker that my tan had just been insulted and he tried not to laugh as he held his tanned arm up to mine to compare. "You do know that you're not any darker than me, right?" he asked. "And this isn't a Florida tan. Besides," he continued, "you know that K was just in Florida too, for a third of the time you were there and she's darker than you?"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, and tried not to be annoyed. "I SAW her tan. But that's besides the point. This," I said, pointing at my arm. "This is DARK."
And then he didn't bother to not try and laugh at me, he just did.
"This," I said to a friend of mine when I saw her earlier this week, "is as good as it gets. I don't tan much more than this." Because for some insane reason I seemed to feel the need to defend the safe, healthy tan I got while excessively applying sunscreen in Florida. We spent a FORTUNE on sunscreen this trip, going through the three cans I brought with us in less than a week and then buying three more tubes. I spent the entire trip applying various SPFs (50, 45, and 30), starting off the day with a lower SPF and then moving up in SPF as they day progressed. And yes, I applied it NUMEROUS times. Under my makeup in the morning, while I was sitting in the golf cart. Before I got in the pool. After I got out of the pool. If I changed shirts and exposed a bit of skin that was previously covered. I did the soles of my feet when we were laying by the pool and made sure I got my ears before I left the house. The last time I had a severe sunburn I ended up with sunstroke and fell asleep (passed out) in a bar and ended up getting myself and everyone else that I was with kicked out because (and I didn't know this having never done it in a bar before) you're not supposed to fall asleep at a bar. Even if you have sunstroke. Never again, I swore, the next day, as I sat, gingerly, covered from head to toe in white cotton, under an umbrella while everyone else frolicked in the waves at the beach.
When I told my boss that my tan was getting insulted, she was appropriately shocked. "You're kidding me," she said. "You're REALLY tanned." And before I could try and figure out if she was being sarcastic or not, she continued. "Did these people not see you BEFORE you went to Florida?"
EXACTLY.
I said during my trip that I was going to post before and after pictures to document my tan, mostly because I can't really pull up my shirt and show the non-believers the white of my belly in comparison to the browness of my arms, back and legs. I COULD pull the top of my shirt down slightly and show off the contrast between my upper chest and the swell of my breast but I learned my lesson a few years ago when I did that in the office and a male colleague saw and swallowed hard and then couldn't talk to me for the rest of the day. I'm posting the photos below to have them on record and the next time someone criticizes my lovely Florida tan I'm going to load up my blog on my iphone and show them the cold, hard (TANNED) proof and then we'll see who laughs at who.
(And this should be the last Florida post).
(Fresh from the shower, two days AFTER we got back from Florida. And if you think my face has a lot of freckles, you should see my back!)
(Don't even TRY telling me that THAT'S not a tan line. And yes, I'm wearing a bikini, and in fact, wore it every single day practically, even when we snorkelled and I wore it even though my butt has become the size of TEXAS and I totally didn't realize it until I saw this photo).
*The other day, before returning to work, I picked up some new foundation to wear to the office because my other foundations were much to light on my tanned skin. I ended up buying a tube of Smashbox's Sheer Focus and I bought it because a) it's a tinted moisturizer rather than a foundation so it barely looks like you're wearing makeup and b) it has a UVA/UVB SPF of 15 and c) it doesn't cover up my freckles which unfortunately don't come in a bottle but should because who doesn't love a gal with freckles on her cheeks (and everywhere else)?
I explained to the woman that I had been in Florida for two weeks and she arched an eyebrow at me and said, "Really? You don't LOOK like you've been to Florida."
I looked down at my arms, at the tan I had worked pretty damn hard for, and looked back up at her. "What are you talking about," I said. "Don't you see how tanned I am?"
She blinked, as if she had missed my glowing bronzed skin the first time and then she shook her head. "No way," she said. "My coworker was in Florida and she came back and SHE'S tanned. I mean, she's really dark."
"I'm really dark," I protested and she shook her head again. "Are you kidding me?" I asked. "Do you not remember how PALE I am? THIS IS DARK."
When I got to work today I mentioned to a coworker that my tan had just been insulted and he tried not to laugh as he held his tanned arm up to mine to compare. "You do know that you're not any darker than me, right?" he asked. "And this isn't a Florida tan. Besides," he continued, "you know that K was just in Florida too, for a third of the time you were there and she's darker than you?"
"Yeah, yeah," I said, and tried not to be annoyed. "I SAW her tan. But that's besides the point. This," I said, pointing at my arm. "This is DARK."
And then he didn't bother to not try and laugh at me, he just did.
"This," I said to a friend of mine when I saw her earlier this week, "is as good as it gets. I don't tan much more than this." Because for some insane reason I seemed to feel the need to defend the safe, healthy tan I got while excessively applying sunscreen in Florida. We spent a FORTUNE on sunscreen this trip, going through the three cans I brought with us in less than a week and then buying three more tubes. I spent the entire trip applying various SPFs (50, 45, and 30), starting off the day with a lower SPF and then moving up in SPF as they day progressed. And yes, I applied it NUMEROUS times. Under my makeup in the morning, while I was sitting in the golf cart. Before I got in the pool. After I got out of the pool. If I changed shirts and exposed a bit of skin that was previously covered. I did the soles of my feet when we were laying by the pool and made sure I got my ears before I left the house. The last time I had a severe sunburn I ended up with sunstroke and fell asleep (passed out) in a bar and ended up getting myself and everyone else that I was with kicked out because (and I didn't know this having never done it in a bar before) you're not supposed to fall asleep at a bar. Even if you have sunstroke. Never again, I swore, the next day, as I sat, gingerly, covered from head to toe in white cotton, under an umbrella while everyone else frolicked in the waves at the beach.
When I told my boss that my tan was getting insulted, she was appropriately shocked. "You're kidding me," she said. "You're REALLY tanned." And before I could try and figure out if she was being sarcastic or not, she continued. "Did these people not see you BEFORE you went to Florida?"
EXACTLY.
I said during my trip that I was going to post before and after pictures to document my tan, mostly because I can't really pull up my shirt and show the non-believers the white of my belly in comparison to the browness of my arms, back and legs. I COULD pull the top of my shirt down slightly and show off the contrast between my upper chest and the swell of my breast but I learned my lesson a few years ago when I did that in the office and a male colleague saw and swallowed hard and then couldn't talk to me for the rest of the day. I'm posting the photos below to have them on record and the next time someone criticizes my lovely Florida tan I'm going to load up my blog on my iphone and show them the cold, hard (TANNED) proof and then we'll see who laughs at who.
(And this should be the last Florida post).
(Fresh from the shower, two days AFTER we got back from Florida. And if you think my face has a lot of freckles, you should see my back!)
(Don't even TRY telling me that THAT'S not a tan line. And yes, I'm wearing a bikini, and in fact, wore it every single day practically, even when we snorkelled and I wore it even though my butt has become the size of TEXAS and I totally didn't realize it until I saw this photo).
*The other day, before returning to work, I picked up some new foundation to wear to the office because my other foundations were much to light on my tanned skin. I ended up buying a tube of Smashbox's Sheer Focus and I bought it because a) it's a tinted moisturizer rather than a foundation so it barely looks like you're wearing makeup and b) it has a UVA/UVB SPF of 15 and c) it doesn't cover up my freckles which unfortunately don't come in a bottle but should because who doesn't love a gal with freckles on her cheeks (and everywhere else)?
We celebrated our 5th anniversary while we were in Florida and since we spent our actual anniversary in the Keys with Tay's father and girlfriend, we decided on our last night in Florida to go back to Joseph's for a quiet dinner.
Both Joseph and his son were there to greet us, we once again sat outdoors at one of the sidewalk tables. We ordered an appetizer, indulged in bread and olive oil and wine; Tay ordered the rack of lamb and I went with the coconut-walnut crusted salmon. We toasted each other and our anniversary.
Tay had a second glass of wine and I ordered a hot chocolate and a piece of cake for dessert.
It was a pleasant way to end a pleasant day. We had spent the morning doing most of our packing, then spent an hour or so at the pool. We had lunch and golfed in the afternoon - both Tay and I played our best games for our entire trip. Tay knocked six strokes off his game while I only managed to knock three but there were a few holes where I managed to get onto the green with my second stroke. It was the other holes (the longer ones) that I got frustrated and lost my temper - and threw my first club. Earlier lightning in the day kept most of the other golfers off the course and there was one other person playing solo, which meant we had the course mostly to ourselves and therefore we were able to play at a brisk, uninterrupted pace without having to wait on anyone. We finished the game in two and a half hours, went home for our swimsuits and returned to the pool.
I felt calm and relaxed and happy as I sipped my hot chocolate and enjoyed the breeze along the street in Pineapple Grove. My legs were bare, my skin was warmed from the day in the sun, the food and service at the restaurant was what we had hoped. Tay and I talked about our trip and the things we had done, and how nice it would be to go home.
And then my wallet got snatched.
I distinctly remember looking up from talking to Tay and seeing a man walking up the street towards us. He caught my attention and my instincts kicked in but I ignored them - choosing instead to NOT be one of those people that clutch their purse when they walk pass a black person. The man continued to talk on his cell phone, I continued my conversation with my husband.
How I wish I'd listened to my instincts and reached for my wallet - even if it meant feeling like a racist asshole the rest of the night.
The man started past us, then doubled back slightly, quickly reaching across the table and in front of me for my wallet that was on the edge of the table closest to the window of the restaurant. The table shook, I leaned back from the person that was suddenly in my space, wine glasses got knocked over, wine spilled into my lap. I blinked, and tried to understand why my skirt was suddenly soaked.
And then Tay said, "He's got your wallet!"
The storekeeper from next door to the restaurant came running from his shop, shouting for someone to stop the guy disappearing up the street with my wallet. Tay jumped to his feet and started to run, with the shopowner behind him. Joseph came running from the restaurant, shouting for his son to call the police and followed in pursuit. I stood there in my wet skirt and flip flops, not sure what to do.
A police car arrived, pulling up in front of the restaurant, it's lights flashing. I kept looking down the street, in the direction that Tay had run. He was gone for what felt like a very long time and I started to worry. I saw him, then, walking back towards us, emptyhanded. Two other police cars arrived, lights flashing, I sat back down in my chair and looked at the mess that was our dinner table. It got very loud as everyone tried to tell the police officers what happened. I was shaking, and tried to answer the questions the officer asked me as best as I could. Passerbys gathered round, asked the shopowners what had happened, the story got relayed. Tay explained that he had chased the guy up the street but had lost him when he turned into a dark alley. The shopowner next door that had joined the chase had apparently hopped in his car that was parked in the parking garage next to the alley and went looking for the guy. He returned a few minutes later and gave a very detailed description of what the guy looked like. He had noticed him walking down the street the other direction, he explained, and then noticed him when he walked back towards us. I guess my instincts weren't the only ones that kicked in.
My wallet was fairly new, a Christmas present from Tay. I was carrying about $75 US and maybe $20 CDN. It had all my credit cards, my driver's license and health card. My wallet was this one and it zips up and therefore holds both my passport and iphone but fortunately, I wasn't carrying either one of those things, having removed my passport from my wallet shortly after we arrived in Florida.
I used Tay's cell phone to call and cancel my credit cards, filled out a police report. The very tiny female officer seemed disappointed by the answers to some of my questions. No, I wasn't holding my wallet when it was snatched. No, the wallet itself wasn't worth more than $300. No, I couldn't say for sure if he pushed me away from the table. I thought at first that he had but realized after the fact that I probably pushed away from the table when he leaned across me.
Both Joseph and his son were there to greet us, we once again sat outdoors at one of the sidewalk tables. We ordered an appetizer, indulged in bread and olive oil and wine; Tay ordered the rack of lamb and I went with the coconut-walnut crusted salmon. We toasted each other and our anniversary.
Tay had a second glass of wine and I ordered a hot chocolate and a piece of cake for dessert.
It was a pleasant way to end a pleasant day. We had spent the morning doing most of our packing, then spent an hour or so at the pool. We had lunch and golfed in the afternoon - both Tay and I played our best games for our entire trip. Tay knocked six strokes off his game while I only managed to knock three but there were a few holes where I managed to get onto the green with my second stroke. It was the other holes (the longer ones) that I got frustrated and lost my temper - and threw my first club. Earlier lightning in the day kept most of the other golfers off the course and there was one other person playing solo, which meant we had the course mostly to ourselves and therefore we were able to play at a brisk, uninterrupted pace without having to wait on anyone. We finished the game in two and a half hours, went home for our swimsuits and returned to the pool.
I felt calm and relaxed and happy as I sipped my hot chocolate and enjoyed the breeze along the street in Pineapple Grove. My legs were bare, my skin was warmed from the day in the sun, the food and service at the restaurant was what we had hoped. Tay and I talked about our trip and the things we had done, and how nice it would be to go home.
And then my wallet got snatched.
I distinctly remember looking up from talking to Tay and seeing a man walking up the street towards us. He caught my attention and my instincts kicked in but I ignored them - choosing instead to NOT be one of those people that clutch their purse when they walk pass a black person. The man continued to talk on his cell phone, I continued my conversation with my husband.
How I wish I'd listened to my instincts and reached for my wallet - even if it meant feeling like a racist asshole the rest of the night.
The man started past us, then doubled back slightly, quickly reaching across the table and in front of me for my wallet that was on the edge of the table closest to the window of the restaurant. The table shook, I leaned back from the person that was suddenly in my space, wine glasses got knocked over, wine spilled into my lap. I blinked, and tried to understand why my skirt was suddenly soaked.
And then Tay said, "He's got your wallet!"
The storekeeper from next door to the restaurant came running from his shop, shouting for someone to stop the guy disappearing up the street with my wallet. Tay jumped to his feet and started to run, with the shopowner behind him. Joseph came running from the restaurant, shouting for his son to call the police and followed in pursuit. I stood there in my wet skirt and flip flops, not sure what to do.
A police car arrived, pulling up in front of the restaurant, it's lights flashing. I kept looking down the street, in the direction that Tay had run. He was gone for what felt like a very long time and I started to worry. I saw him, then, walking back towards us, emptyhanded. Two other police cars arrived, lights flashing, I sat back down in my chair and looked at the mess that was our dinner table. It got very loud as everyone tried to tell the police officers what happened. I was shaking, and tried to answer the questions the officer asked me as best as I could. Passerbys gathered round, asked the shopowners what had happened, the story got relayed. Tay explained that he had chased the guy up the street but had lost him when he turned into a dark alley. The shopowner next door that had joined the chase had apparently hopped in his car that was parked in the parking garage next to the alley and went looking for the guy. He returned a few minutes later and gave a very detailed description of what the guy looked like. He had noticed him walking down the street the other direction, he explained, and then noticed him when he walked back towards us. I guess my instincts weren't the only ones that kicked in.
My wallet was fairly new, a Christmas present from Tay. I was carrying about $75 US and maybe $20 CDN. It had all my credit cards, my driver's license and health card. My wallet was this one and it zips up and therefore holds both my passport and iphone but fortunately, I wasn't carrying either one of those things, having removed my passport from my wallet shortly after we arrived in Florida.
I used Tay's cell phone to call and cancel my credit cards, filled out a police report. The very tiny female officer seemed disappointed by the answers to some of my questions. No, I wasn't holding my wallet when it was snatched. No, the wallet itself wasn't worth more than $300. No, I couldn't say for sure if he pushed me away from the table. I thought at first that he had but realized after the fact that I probably pushed away from the table when he leaned across me.
She clearly wanted it to be a more serious crime than what it actually was.
She kept apologizing profusely for what had happened, said over and over how bad she felt. Joseph and his son were visibly upset, and as well couldn't stop apologizing. When the cops finally left, Tay and I eventually got up from the table to leave. We thanked Joseph and his son for their help, told them this wasn't their fault. I bit my lip to keep from crying as I walked away from the broken glass on the table. We were halfway to the car when we were called out to and we turned to see a couple of the men that had gathered on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. They were sorry to hear what had happened, they explained, and knew that we were visiting Delray. The shop next to Joseph's was a gallery, they continued, with these beautiful painted hearts that have become known as the hearts of Delray. The gallery owner wanted to give me one of the hearts to take home with me so that I would have something nice to remember Delray by, something more than having my wallet snatched on my last night there. I wanted to just go home at that point and thought I was going to cry at any moment as they talked but I nodded, and followed them into the gallery. The owner introduced himself, presented the small painting of a heart and told me how sorry he was. I nodded and turned away as I continued to fight tears.
We flew home Thursday afternoon, arriving early Thursday evening and on Friday morning, Tay drove me to the DMV to get a new license and from there we went to the health office so I could request a new card. We only had to wait a couple of minutes at the DMV and at the health office, when I told the woman at reception that my wallet was stolen, she filled my request right then and there, instead of having me wait. I had joked to Tay that the DMV and health office needed a front of the line policy for people that had their stuff stolen and maybe at the health office they do have an unofficial policy to help out those that have had the unfortunate luck of being stolen from. If I was doing their job, I too would do what I could to make things easier on someone that was stolen from because guess what? Having your wallet and all your ID stolen REALLY SUCKS.
I've told this story a few times already since getting home, and a couple of times, people have been shocked at how nonchalant I've been about the whole ordeal. And it's not non-chalance, not really, but more me realizing that it could have been a whole lot worse then what had actually happened. I don't like to think about what could have happened to Tay if he had followed the guy down that alley, or how difficult my getting home would have been if my passport had been in my wallet. No one got hurt, the only thing broken was a wine glass and the wine that got dumped on my white linen skirt was white and not red :).
I've known people that have had their house broken into, or have been carjacked or robbed at a bank machine, and the hundreds of dollars that they're forced to hand over is their rent money. I lost about a hundred bucks, ID that can be replaced and a nice wallet, and yes, it really sucks but it could have been a lot worse. A LOT.
It was a random act and one bad moment out of a hundred good moments on our vacation. I'll visit again, I promised them as I left the gallery, because petty theft exists everywhere you go but the kind of concern and dismay that the shopowners showed us that night doesn't exist everywhere. It's a place with a lot of heart, and I've got one to hang on my wall to prove it.
Forget Being a Rock Star; I Want to Be an Astronaut
0 Comments Published by Tawny on May 11, 2009 at 4:32 PM.
Atlantis Begins Pursuit of Hubble Space Telescope
Mon, 11 May 2009 03:46:45 PM EDT
"After a smooth countdown and picture-perfect liftoff, space shuttle Atlantis and a crew of seven astronauts are in space, beginning their 11-day mission to service NASA's Hubble Space Telescope. Atlantis lifted off Launch Pad 39A at NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Florida today at 2:01 p.m. EDT. "
It took us 2 and a half hours to drive there and 2 and a half hours to drive home, including driving through the craziest rainfall that forced drivers to turn on the flashing hazards just to see each other. We sat under the blazing noon hour sun, trying not to burn, for 2 hours as we waited for the shuttle to launch. Our location on the grassy knoll next to the water was about 20 kilometres from the launch site.
The actual time that we saw the shuttle before it disappeared in the clouds was maybe a minute and a half, if that.
Remember those five hours beneath the flapping sail as we sailed in the Keys that I claimed couldn't possible be beat during this holiday?
Absolutely 100% beaten out by what felt like mere seconds as Atlantis launched.
Mon, 11 May 2009 03:46:45 PM EDT
"After a smooth countdown and picture-perfect liftoff, space shuttle Atlantis and a crew of seven astronauts are in space, beginning their 11-day mission to service NASA's Hubble Space Telescope. Atlantis lifted off Launch Pad 39A at NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Florida today at 2:01 p.m. EDT. "
It took us 2 and a half hours to drive there and 2 and a half hours to drive home, including driving through the craziest rainfall that forced drivers to turn on the flashing hazards just to see each other. We sat under the blazing noon hour sun, trying not to burn, for 2 hours as we waited for the shuttle to launch. Our location on the grassy knoll next to the water was about 20 kilometres from the launch site.
The actual time that we saw the shuttle before it disappeared in the clouds was maybe a minute and a half, if that.
Remember those five hours beneath the flapping sail as we sailed in the Keys that I claimed couldn't possible be beat during this holiday?
Absolutely 100% beaten out by what felt like mere seconds as Atlantis launched.
I've come to the conclusion that there are so many old people living in Florida that flavorful food has ceased to exist unless you're serious enough about your food to search for the best places to eat. Proof in point, we ran some errands today and noticed the big crowd of people outside of the Red Lobster at 2pm in the afternoon and then I realized that it was Mother's Day. I guess eating at the Red Lobster is a big deal to some, probably just like going out to IHOP is for others. Am I sounding rude here? I suppose so, considering that I haven't ever even eaten at a Red Lobster but I DID eat at an IHOP last week and even worse, when we were in the Keys last week I ate at a Waffle House. But I should point out the following: When I ate at those places it was a) because my options were limited meaning that there' was no where else or we didn't have time to find somewhere else and b) I went in with very low expectations and the understanding that the food was just going to SUCK (like really badly). I have no delusions of grandeur when it comes to the hollandaise sauce that is served up at the IHOP. Could it really be anything but a huge gelatinous glob of butter and (hopefully) lemon juice?
But there IS good food to be found, all through Florida, and some of it in the most surprising spots and below is an overall summary of the list of places that we've eaten at while in Florida and probably in the order that we ate there and I'm including notes about what I ordered (when travelling I try and order items off the menu that's local) and whether or not I'd eat there again. I have a feeling that trips to the house here in West Palm Beach are going to become a regular thing - just today, while sitting by the pool, we were talking about spontaneous 4 or 5 day weekends next year whenever the house might be available - and I'd like to have a record of where to eat and what to skip.
IHOP: I ordered the spinach and mushroom omelette and it came with the hollandaise glob and the entire omelette was the size of my head. If I'm ever in the unfortunate circumstances to eat at IHOP again, I hope whoever I'm dining with is willing to share an omelette because it's a crime to serve THAT MUCH FOOD and expect people to eat it all (which some do) and it's a crime to throw away THAT MUCH FOOD and yet when the server asked me if I wanted it boxed up to take home with me that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Boston's: Located directly across the street from the beach in Delray, Boston's is as big of a tourist trap as you're going to find. I ordered the Key West basket and it came with grouper fingers, conch fritters and fried shrimp (thankfully just two of each), with coleslaw and fries. I was quickly reminded of why I no longer really eat deep fried food and did my best to wash it all down with a margarita that was disappointing at best. Will not eat there again, especially considering that Tay said his chicken sandwhich tasted like deep fried fish. Blech.
La Bamba: The four of us went there after golfing 18 holes on Sunday morning - it was nearby and we were tired and hungry and sweaty and just needed something fast. Tay and I both ordered fajitas and all I can say is thank goodness that I was tipsy from my blue margarita. I made fajitas last night from a fajita kit for our dinner and they were ten times better than the supposed authentic Mexican place. Never again, unless it's for their happy hour where they sell $2 margaritas and maybe some chips and salsa, which was surprisingly good (I ate 3 small bowls of it).
Furin: Impressive japanese/thai in a little strip mall a couple of blocks from the house. Listed on Trip Advisor as one of the top ten places to dine in Delray (#4). We ordered the curry puffs (really, really good - dumplings with ground chicken, sweet potato and curry powder), and spring rolls and I ordered the Tom Kha Gai (too salty) and the pad thai and green curry. We're probably going to eat there again tomorrow night.
Boheme Bistro: Another top ten Trip Advisor restaurant (#7) and I was THIS close to ordering the greek omelette but I had to erase the IHOP glob from my food memory so I ordered the eggs benedict and thank goodness I did because it was the way eggs benedict should be (have I ever mentioned on here my obsession with eggs benedict? MOST FAVORITE BREAKFAST EVER. Will eat there again.
Grande Luxe Cafe: We had our wedding anniversary at the Grande Luxe in Las Vegas so thought it would be nice to eat there again since there's one here in Boca. Whenever Tay and I eat here we always always order appetizers for a meal since their serving sizes are so big and this time around I got the rare seared Ahi-tuna. It was good but nothing like the Ahi appetizer that the Keg used to nail until they changed their recipe and ruined it.
Willy T's: We asked the woman at the check in desk where to go for dinner in downtown Key West and she suggested this open outdoor restaurant off Duval that I was skeptical about upon seeing the defaced dollar bills stuck to the walls and the plastic lawn chairs that we were seated on. I had the option of ordering Mahi-mahi (which, if you read the small print, is dolphin) and I refuse to eat it (or shark) and that's mostly out of principle but also out of respect to Stacy (and she would KILL me) so instead I ordered the blackened Island Grouper that, quite frankly, was much better than it should have been considering everything else.
The Waffle House: Let's just say that places with a dollar menu make me nervous. (And we had to meet the charter crew at 9am and the WH was in the motel.)
Fogarty's: Not even worth mentioning except to say never again.
Puerto Vallarta: This was a tiny mexican place on the road through Key Largo that had a sign claiming they had the world's best key lime pie. We hadn't tried key lime pie at that point and figured that we shouldn't leave the Keys without a slice so we pulled over and both Wendy (Tay's dad's girlfriend) and I ordered a slice. Remember the scene in Elf where he takes her for the world's best cup of coffee? It was kind of like that :).
La Carreta: Listed online as one of the best places to go for cuban food in Little Havana, Miami. Ordered the mojito and the cuban sampler. Easily one of the best mojitos I've ever had and while the meat dishes that came with my meal were only so-so (shredded creole beef and fried pork) I LOVED the rice and beans that came with it, and enjoyed trying the ham croquette, the tamale, the yuca and the plantains. Definitely worth the drive - but if we go there again I am SO ordering the sandwhich that is named after the place because that's what Tay had and he gave me a bite and I wanted to eat the entire thing right then and there and forget about the food that was on my plate.
Doc's: Got some burgers and fries to go to eat by the pool for lunch and only went there because they've been in business for over 50 years and claim to make their 1/3lb burgers fresh. Definitely better than a McDonald's or Wendy's burger - closest comparison is a Lick's burger I guess? Certainly not a bad choice for a hot day when you want something quick and fast so you can get back to the beach (or in our case, back into the pool).
Joseph's Wine Bar and Cafe: Easily the BEST meal that we've had in Florida so far and rated as the #1 restaurant in Delray Beach for a reason. Joseph was born in Lebanon, immigrated to Canada (Montreal) and from there moved to Florida where he worked for his brother at his two restaurants for 8 years before he decided to open his own restaurant. Joseph runs the place with the help of his son, who waits tables with his father, and his daughter (who hostesses). Food was beautiful but not quite perfect but none of that mattered because I've probably never had more attentive service than that provided by the father and son pair. I ordered the caprese to start because there's nothing I love more than fresh mozzeralla, tomatoes, and basil but I really, really wanted to try the tabouli salad. I ordered one of the specials for dinner (fresh Alaskan halibut on jasmine rice with vegetables and kalamata olives) and absolutely had to have the baklava for dessert which I ate with the a lovely cup of mild hot chocolate. I loved it there SO MUCH that I've already told Tay that we're going there again on Wednesday night, before flying home again Thursday afternoon.
Morikami Cafe: We toured the Morikami japenese gardens on Saturday afternoon and had lunch on their cafe overlooking one of their lakes. I ordered the sushi combo (salmon roll, tuna roll and california roll plus something else) and it would have been a tasty little lunch if the server hadn't left me sitting with my plate of raw fish without soy sauce and chopsticks for what felt like an extremely long time. There's better places for sushi in Florida though (like Furin) but worth a quick meal if you're touring the gardens.
Da Da: #3 on the list for Delray Beach and easily understood when you're sitting on the covered outside terrace of the house-turned-restaurant watching the tiki torches flicker and listening to people laughing and enjoying their meals. The basket of bread included very tasty corn bread and I ordered the black bean soup to start followed by the sugar-cane skewered beef tenderloin served with asian noodles. I thoroughly enjoyed my meal but Tay not so much his - there was a delay in getting his turkey dish out of the kitchen because they overcooked the first attempt but both our server and the manager (owner?) were extremely apologetic about the delay and ended up not only comping Tay his meal but also the dessert we ordered. Their was a number of things on the menu that I was interested in trying and would probably go there again if the opportunity arose but, with only a couple of meals left in Florida before we head home, this one's not going to make the short list.
But there IS good food to be found, all through Florida, and some of it in the most surprising spots and below is an overall summary of the list of places that we've eaten at while in Florida and probably in the order that we ate there and I'm including notes about what I ordered (when travelling I try and order items off the menu that's local) and whether or not I'd eat there again. I have a feeling that trips to the house here in West Palm Beach are going to become a regular thing - just today, while sitting by the pool, we were talking about spontaneous 4 or 5 day weekends next year whenever the house might be available - and I'd like to have a record of where to eat and what to skip.
IHOP: I ordered the spinach and mushroom omelette and it came with the hollandaise glob and the entire omelette was the size of my head. If I'm ever in the unfortunate circumstances to eat at IHOP again, I hope whoever I'm dining with is willing to share an omelette because it's a crime to serve THAT MUCH FOOD and expect people to eat it all (which some do) and it's a crime to throw away THAT MUCH FOOD and yet when the server asked me if I wanted it boxed up to take home with me that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Boston's: Located directly across the street from the beach in Delray, Boston's is as big of a tourist trap as you're going to find. I ordered the Key West basket and it came with grouper fingers, conch fritters and fried shrimp (thankfully just two of each), with coleslaw and fries. I was quickly reminded of why I no longer really eat deep fried food and did my best to wash it all down with a margarita that was disappointing at best. Will not eat there again, especially considering that Tay said his chicken sandwhich tasted like deep fried fish. Blech.
La Bamba: The four of us went there after golfing 18 holes on Sunday morning - it was nearby and we were tired and hungry and sweaty and just needed something fast. Tay and I both ordered fajitas and all I can say is thank goodness that I was tipsy from my blue margarita. I made fajitas last night from a fajita kit for our dinner and they were ten times better than the supposed authentic Mexican place. Never again, unless it's for their happy hour where they sell $2 margaritas and maybe some chips and salsa, which was surprisingly good (I ate 3 small bowls of it).
Furin: Impressive japanese/thai in a little strip mall a couple of blocks from the house. Listed on Trip Advisor as one of the top ten places to dine in Delray (#4). We ordered the curry puffs (really, really good - dumplings with ground chicken, sweet potato and curry powder), and spring rolls and I ordered the Tom Kha Gai (too salty) and the pad thai and green curry. We're probably going to eat there again tomorrow night.
Boheme Bistro: Another top ten Trip Advisor restaurant (#7) and I was THIS close to ordering the greek omelette but I had to erase the IHOP glob from my food memory so I ordered the eggs benedict and thank goodness I did because it was the way eggs benedict should be (have I ever mentioned on here my obsession with eggs benedict? MOST FAVORITE BREAKFAST EVER. Will eat there again.
Grande Luxe Cafe: We had our wedding anniversary at the Grande Luxe in Las Vegas so thought it would be nice to eat there again since there's one here in Boca. Whenever Tay and I eat here we always always order appetizers for a meal since their serving sizes are so big and this time around I got the rare seared Ahi-tuna. It was good but nothing like the Ahi appetizer that the Keg used to nail until they changed their recipe and ruined it.
Willy T's: We asked the woman at the check in desk where to go for dinner in downtown Key West and she suggested this open outdoor restaurant off Duval that I was skeptical about upon seeing the defaced dollar bills stuck to the walls and the plastic lawn chairs that we were seated on. I had the option of ordering Mahi-mahi (which, if you read the small print, is dolphin) and I refuse to eat it (or shark) and that's mostly out of principle but also out of respect to Stacy (and she would KILL me) so instead I ordered the blackened Island Grouper that, quite frankly, was much better than it should have been considering everything else.
The Waffle House: Let's just say that places with a dollar menu make me nervous. (And we had to meet the charter crew at 9am and the WH was in the motel.)
Fogarty's: Not even worth mentioning except to say never again.
Puerto Vallarta: This was a tiny mexican place on the road through Key Largo that had a sign claiming they had the world's best key lime pie. We hadn't tried key lime pie at that point and figured that we shouldn't leave the Keys without a slice so we pulled over and both Wendy (Tay's dad's girlfriend) and I ordered a slice. Remember the scene in Elf where he takes her for the world's best cup of coffee? It was kind of like that :).
La Carreta: Listed online as one of the best places to go for cuban food in Little Havana, Miami. Ordered the mojito and the cuban sampler. Easily one of the best mojitos I've ever had and while the meat dishes that came with my meal were only so-so (shredded creole beef and fried pork) I LOVED the rice and beans that came with it, and enjoyed trying the ham croquette, the tamale, the yuca and the plantains. Definitely worth the drive - but if we go there again I am SO ordering the sandwhich that is named after the place because that's what Tay had and he gave me a bite and I wanted to eat the entire thing right then and there and forget about the food that was on my plate.
Doc's: Got some burgers and fries to go to eat by the pool for lunch and only went there because they've been in business for over 50 years and claim to make their 1/3lb burgers fresh. Definitely better than a McDonald's or Wendy's burger - closest comparison is a Lick's burger I guess? Certainly not a bad choice for a hot day when you want something quick and fast so you can get back to the beach (or in our case, back into the pool).
Joseph's Wine Bar and Cafe: Easily the BEST meal that we've had in Florida so far and rated as the #1 restaurant in Delray Beach for a reason. Joseph was born in Lebanon, immigrated to Canada (Montreal) and from there moved to Florida where he worked for his brother at his two restaurants for 8 years before he decided to open his own restaurant. Joseph runs the place with the help of his son, who waits tables with his father, and his daughter (who hostesses). Food was beautiful but not quite perfect but none of that mattered because I've probably never had more attentive service than that provided by the father and son pair. I ordered the caprese to start because there's nothing I love more than fresh mozzeralla, tomatoes, and basil but I really, really wanted to try the tabouli salad. I ordered one of the specials for dinner (fresh Alaskan halibut on jasmine rice with vegetables and kalamata olives) and absolutely had to have the baklava for dessert which I ate with the a lovely cup of mild hot chocolate. I loved it there SO MUCH that I've already told Tay that we're going there again on Wednesday night, before flying home again Thursday afternoon.
Morikami Cafe: We toured the Morikami japenese gardens on Saturday afternoon and had lunch on their cafe overlooking one of their lakes. I ordered the sushi combo (salmon roll, tuna roll and california roll plus something else) and it would have been a tasty little lunch if the server hadn't left me sitting with my plate of raw fish without soy sauce and chopsticks for what felt like an extremely long time. There's better places for sushi in Florida though (like Furin) but worth a quick meal if you're touring the gardens.
Da Da: #3 on the list for Delray Beach and easily understood when you're sitting on the covered outside terrace of the house-turned-restaurant watching the tiki torches flicker and listening to people laughing and enjoying their meals. The basket of bread included very tasty corn bread and I ordered the black bean soup to start followed by the sugar-cane skewered beef tenderloin served with asian noodles. I thoroughly enjoyed my meal but Tay not so much his - there was a delay in getting his turkey dish out of the kitchen because they overcooked the first attempt but both our server and the manager (owner?) were extremely apologetic about the delay and ended up not only comping Tay his meal but also the dessert we ordered. Their was a number of things on the menu that I was interested in trying and would probably go there again if the opportunity arose but, with only a couple of meals left in Florida before we head home, this one's not going to make the short list.
We spent the day in Miami today, shopping along Lincoln Road before spending an hour or so at South Beach before heading out to Little Havana for some cuban food. From there we drove back to Delray Beach for their Art and Jazz Festival and I wandered into a little store that was selling out it's summer stock and these shoes caught my eye.
The guy that sold them to me said that they're Brazilian and that when he first got them in stock, he sold about 15 pairs just like that. I had them on and was commenting that I didn't know if I'd be able to walk in them and he said that there were 15 other women walking around in them so if THEY could, then I could.
I don't know if he's right, but I'm definitely going to try.
The guy that sold them to me said that they're Brazilian and that when he first got them in stock, he sold about 15 pairs just like that. I had them on and was commenting that I didn't know if I'd be able to walk in them and he said that there were 15 other women walking around in them so if THEY could, then I could.
I don't know if he's right, but I'm definitely going to try.
You can't tell in the photo but that strap across the top of the foot is velcro and the sole is bright orange rubber so they bend and are pretty flexible. The heel is wood and the leather upper is actually a dark burgundy. I love these shoes so much, I'm already picturing myself wearing them with the camouflage shorts I got in Key West and the bright yellow T and one of the pairs of sunglasses that I bought earlier today in South Beach.
We drove down to Key West yesterday and at the last minute decided to stay the night so that we could get on a snorkelling and kayak charter the next morning. We left the dock at about 9:30 and were on the water until 2.
I don't see how any other moment of this trip will top those few hours when we were on the blue, blue water, beneath the blue, blue sky.
I am probably one of the palest people that I know, and I blame it entirely on my mother's genes and the resulting red hilights that I tend to get when my hair is it's natural color.
I'm not a sun goddess and never have been and prior to the trip to Florida I bought two different cans of Aveeno sunblock - a 45 SPF and a 30 SPF. My logic was that I would use the 45 the first week and, once I've built up enough of a base, move on to the 30. But so far, we're on only day 4 and I've pretty much depleted the 45 because I can't stop myself from spraying it on myself until my skin glistens. I love the crazy freckles that I get from being in the sun but do not love the sun burn that I'm prone to get.
I plan on doing before and after pictures to document my Florida tan; the below photos were taken on day 2 of our holidays and that's AFTER spending the morning running, playing tennis and then laying by the pool. Can you imagine how much paler I was BEFORE I got here?
I can't.
I'm not a sun goddess and never have been and prior to the trip to Florida I bought two different cans of Aveeno sunblock - a 45 SPF and a 30 SPF. My logic was that I would use the 45 the first week and, once I've built up enough of a base, move on to the 30. But so far, we're on only day 4 and I've pretty much depleted the 45 because I can't stop myself from spraying it on myself until my skin glistens. I love the crazy freckles that I get from being in the sun but do not love the sun burn that I'm prone to get.
I plan on doing before and after pictures to document my Florida tan; the below photos were taken on day 2 of our holidays and that's AFTER spending the morning running, playing tennis and then laying by the pool. Can you imagine how much paler I was BEFORE I got here?
I can't.
We're at the house in West Palm Beach, having arrived last night just after midnight.
We spent today settling in - had breakfast at the local IHOP with the local seniors (it's just up the street and we were hungry) and went to the local discount liquor store to stock up on Strongbow and Dos Equis and then over to the mall in Boco Raton where we happily discovered they have a Grande Lux Cafe - we were full from breakfast so filed that away for later use. Tay bought some stuff at the Art of Shaving and I picked up ANOTHER minted rose lip balm at Sephora (this is my third, they seem to keep DISAPPEARING). From there we stopped at the grocery store to pick up snacks and beverages and breakfast foods (yogurt and strawberries and granola for me - yum!) and a couple of steaks for dinner. By the time we got back to the house it was after 5 - we rode the bikes over to the pool for a bit before coming back to the house for dinner - Tay barbequed while I tossed together a ceasar salad and threw some garlic bread in the oven.
We're now sitting on the screened in terrace out back; Tay is tapping away on his iphone while mine is playing hooked up to the portable speakers I brought outside with us (Playing right now? Funhouse, by Pink!). My laptop is appropriately on my lap and the hot tub is heating up. I'm counting the minutes until I can take my glass of wine and slip into the water.
Can I just say how MUCH I love it here? I mean, I slept until after 10 this morning, jerking awake rather suddenly only when Tay put his hand on my back to stir me. I NEVER get to sleep until 10 but I'm not going to make a habit of it, because for the rest of our time here I plan on getting up early to run before the heat hits, then we'll either hit the tennis courts or the golf course and when we're sufficiently tired, a nap by the pool and some lunch will be required. Followed by more tennis or golf, and then another nap by the pool, dinner, and then guess what we'll do?
Soak in the hot tub.
(At some point we'll leave this little gated community paradise to find the local beach, and hit the Keys, Miami (Little Havana!), and hopefully Cape Canaveral for this. I may never come home.
Seriously.
(The last photo is for Dave, who said I had to take a photo of my toes with their bright purple nail polish. He was very specific in his photo request - he wants my toes in white sand against the blue backdrop of the ocean, but for now, this will have to do. At least the backdrop colors are the right ones, and there IS water behind the chair.)
We spent today settling in - had breakfast at the local IHOP with the local seniors (it's just up the street and we were hungry) and went to the local discount liquor store to stock up on Strongbow and Dos Equis and then over to the mall in Boco Raton where we happily discovered they have a Grande Lux Cafe - we were full from breakfast so filed that away for later use. Tay bought some stuff at the Art of Shaving and I picked up ANOTHER minted rose lip balm at Sephora (this is my third, they seem to keep DISAPPEARING). From there we stopped at the grocery store to pick up snacks and beverages and breakfast foods (yogurt and strawberries and granola for me - yum!) and a couple of steaks for dinner. By the time we got back to the house it was after 5 - we rode the bikes over to the pool for a bit before coming back to the house for dinner - Tay barbequed while I tossed together a ceasar salad and threw some garlic bread in the oven.
We're now sitting on the screened in terrace out back; Tay is tapping away on his iphone while mine is playing hooked up to the portable speakers I brought outside with us (Playing right now? Funhouse, by Pink!). My laptop is appropriately on my lap and the hot tub is heating up. I'm counting the minutes until I can take my glass of wine and slip into the water.
Can I just say how MUCH I love it here? I mean, I slept until after 10 this morning, jerking awake rather suddenly only when Tay put his hand on my back to stir me. I NEVER get to sleep until 10 but I'm not going to make a habit of it, because for the rest of our time here I plan on getting up early to run before the heat hits, then we'll either hit the tennis courts or the golf course and when we're sufficiently tired, a nap by the pool and some lunch will be required. Followed by more tennis or golf, and then another nap by the pool, dinner, and then guess what we'll do?
Soak in the hot tub.
(At some point we'll leave this little gated community paradise to find the local beach, and hit the Keys, Miami (Little Havana!), and hopefully Cape Canaveral for this. I may never come home.
Seriously.
(The last photo is for Dave, who said I had to take a photo of my toes with their bright purple nail polish. He was very specific in his photo request - he wants my toes in white sand against the blue backdrop of the ocean, but for now, this will have to do. At least the backdrop colors are the right ones, and there IS water behind the chair.)
