Saturday Morning Encounter with The Dude

No. Not Jeff Bridges. The Dude.

I'm crossing the street heading for the sand. Oh, my. I must stop for the speeding bicyclist. I  take a step. Oh, dear. Here comes a truck. He does not stop for the gray-haired women in her flip-flops.

Across the street from me is The Dude. Ambling. In his Hawaiian shirt. He looks at me.

"Did you think I might not make it?" I ask.

"These people need to slooow down," he says. "They neeeeeed to take it easy."

I almost asked him out for a white Russian.

Saturday Morning on an Empty Lifeguard Tower, Saving No One

Moon a torn erasure, islands a lilac smudge. Waves into green, towering up from blue. Surfers as black and as plentiful as crows. But certainly not a "murder." What then? A crash, a foam, a swell? All the while a couple stands on the sand, he behind her with their backs to the sun as if they want to make their shadows one.

As I walk home, more surfers run toward the beach. Carpe, I think. If only I knew the Latin for wave.

photo credit: vcstar.com

Flora and Fauna

I love my place here in Margaritaville. But it's not without its drawbacks. The houses are sandwiched together--a feature I disliked from the moment I saw the place. Today, after three months of living here, I did something about it.

In a month or two the honeysuckle will completely obscure the block wall and the neighbor's window. The hummingbirds have already given their stamp of approval.

I was inspired by the project I did yesterday as a birthday present for my mom.

As the plants grow fuller and taller, the view from her room will get better and better.

The dining room and living room side windows now look like this:

And now for the fauna:

Piper gets fresh water in her water bowl a couple of times a day. But what she really likes is a glass of water served in the living room.

Official Songs, Drinks, and Poems....and a Runcible Spoon!!!

Margaritaville has an official song. That's a no-brainer, right? Ditto with the official drink. But it might need an official poem, too.


How about this one?

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

BY EDWARD LEAR

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea

   In a beautiful pea-green boat,

They took some honey, and plenty of money,

   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

   And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,

    What a beautiful Pussy you are,

         You are,

         You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

II

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl!

   How charmingly sweet you sing!

O let us be married! too long we have tarried:

   But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood

   With a ring at the end of his nose,

             His nose,

             His nose,

   With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

   Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

   By the Turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,

   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;   

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

   They danced by the light of the moon,

             The moon,

             The moon,

They danced by the light of the moon.

    When my daughter C. got married back in October and asked me to speak at her wedding, I considered reciting this poem since both she and her husband are professional sailors. I, however, did not think I could pull off, "Oh what a beautiful pussy you are..." so I wrote something myself.

    But there you have it. The discarded wedding speech is now officially declared  Margaritaville's official poem.

   And I declare the kayak to be Margaritaville's official boat.

photo credit: redbubble.com (the owl and the pussycat)

greenzebraaccounting.com  (the kayaks in the moonlight)