How totally appealing...I'm ready for you.

Driving back to Bradentucky today from a morning at the Sarasota Farmer's Market and a little Eco-Fest at Laurel Park, I was loving the fresh exposure to the environmentally friendly, politically inclined and conscious populace.

I quickly broke right out of that frame of mind after citing an old pick up bearing a bumper sticker with "I'll Take You to XTC."

Mmm hmmm. I can hardly wait! Tell me where to sign up. The good 'ole boys inside were preparing for a well planned trip to Hooters, telling from the passionate left turn off of US 41. I'm sure the waitstaff there will be fast and fresh to the standing offer as well. Sigh.

How far would you go for something you believe in?

Sometimes I get too caught up in the minutia of daily happenings to remember that I'm here for a reason. Just like you and every other person on this earth. Are we doing something that moves us? Is there some injustice you feel strongly about? Are you sitting on your arse festering about it when it's brought to your attention on the nightly news? And forget about it the rest of the time?

I get it, that's enough questions for tonight, Gropius.

But really, think about it. How far would you go for something you believe in? I think it's easy to give that question a lot of lip service and let potential barriers and skepticism prevent personal action. When you feel outraged or inspired, do you only go far enough to say, "that's so sad" or "that's terrible" or "I wish I was doing that" and then move on to the next distraction?

I need to reevaluate and consider this in a new, more serious way. Time's a wastin'. I'm not getting any younger. And I need to get into high gear and be a little more choosy about where I spend my energy.

The Division of Labor at Home

I really am a lucky girl. Husband does more than his share of meal prep, helps with dishes & cleaning and will sometimes start the washing machine. Now, if I can just stop the boys from tracking the entire yard in after I've vacuumed.

The challenging part is our individual timelines. When I'm ready to clean, he claims I'm on a rampage or a cleaning stampede of sorts. But why screw around with it? Get it done...help or get out of the way. Right? And HOW LONG should one wait until the house is literally worth of a reality show?

Still, the "domestically disabled" shirt I bought on our honeymoon laid the proper groundwork. He's pretty damn cooperative and a good housework partner. What's it like in your humble abode?

To Hell in A (Sweet) Hand Basket

Central Florida in June. It's hot as hell. In the sweet and sweltering town of Mt. Dora, it was a little difficult to sit more than an hour in the lakeside shade...even in comfortable wooden chairs with a full view of fledgling moorhens picking insects out of the grass. Still, we had a grand 'ole time. It's so worth a weekend trip.

Now I'm not a prissy girl, but I love beautiful things that weave nature-inspired patterns into light, magical rooms. I've never seen one quite like this--the site of my sis-in-law's baby shower. There was so much joy and excitement around the occasion, and every girl was wishing she had seen the likes of this space for her one and only Sweet 16 or wedding shower. The attire of the hostesses in our tea room was even planned to the finest detail. They wore ballet slippers and flowing, lacy sort of dresses in soft colors (not that oldie moldie Elizabethan clothing that would make you want to puke or expect paintings with heads on platters in the background.)

In fact, the locale choice was so supreme that if I had to be locked in a room for the rest of my life (I'm not asking for this, Great Spirit), this one would be my choice.

On a different note, I have a bit of sad news for those who aspire to make the Mt. Dora trip. I'll tell you, my previous fave (the historic Lakeside Inn) is in the midst of a slow demise. We waited over an hour past the 3 pm check in for our room to be ready, and after hearing it would be another sixty minutes, we asked for a different room. Evidently the place is for sale and the shrewd management team is cutting down on housekeeping with the slow economy. My gift to them for the unapologetic wait: some nice exposure on Gropius. We heard that this B & B is the bomb. We're staying there next time.

Despite the LakeSLIDE Inn, the trip was magnificent, restful and really special. How often do you see your favorite people carrying a child? I can't wait for Gropius to have a new neice!

The 3 "Anti" Facebook Reasons

Just when I had almost declared this evening non-blogworthy, I came across this. It's a response I just received from a friend who has been missing on Facebook for a while. "Gave up on Facebook?" was my question. Answer:

1. I never figured it out.
2. I think it’s adolescent in many ways.
3. I think it has great potential for identity theft and viruses…

Other than that, I LOVE IT…

It just seemed so mocking and sarcastic, I had to share it. Personally, it seems like the bad attitude all relates to his reason #1.

Remember the weight loss challenge? I'm surrounded by enemies.

Like Mexican food, ice cream and the occasional margarita. Sweet Jesus, I could eat potatoes or any potato derivative for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day. What kind of a vegetarian am I?

Seriously, it's been depressing. I just want to get to my college graduation weight from 11 years ago (GASP), and presumably, it shouldn't be that hard. But after a stressful day, I want to come home, eat dinner and veg... Granted, all of these activities usually take place after more work and a little fiddling around on Facebook, a few blogs and e-mail.

I've come to the conclusion that being married makes you lazy as hell when it comes to taking care of yourself. We can sit down with a bag of chips or a bowl of cream when there is literally not an ounce of hunger on the brain.

Who won the weight loss challenge? A single mother of 3 of course! Well deserved, Nicole, well deserved. You're the most disciplined person I know. (I mean that!) And you took home $20 each from 8 of us other losers for a grand total of $160. You should celebrate with donuts.

The Writer's Bench

Guided by a 3-day scruff, ponytailed man of 36 who had never heard of a blog and doesn't own a television, we made our way through the mangrove tunnels. We came to an opening and pulled our kayaks onto a small strip of beach that wears only several variety of grasses, low lying salt-tolerant vegetation and The Writer's Bench.

In the softening light of evening, what could be more appealing for women fond of the word? A wooden seat for three--only accessible by boat--overlooking the bathwater shallows chocked with hermit crabs, sea urchins and petite starfish.

Oddly, some of us stood around it and one might have propped her feet on its side, but no one sat down. We observed, seeing ourselves outside of the picture of quietude, pining for more time--for a space where creativity does not yield to cell phones, insistent children, mothers who want to inform our wardrobes, and thoughts of small checks in exchange for our soul-words.

The reality of visiting that place frequently enough to satiate the need for calm, neutralizing solitude is slimmer than the single vessels we paddled. But the thought of The Writer's Bench, sitting there in all weather and circumstance, creates a light in the mind we can go without hesitation, guides or bug spray to summon the right sentence for paper or screen.