Dear Rays, You Rock.

Never in my 33 years have I been excited enough about men in uniforms playing a game to talk about it...(just between you and me, or to even really enjoy watching it).

Here are the sports stars I know: Michael Jordon, ... Yeah. Michael Jordon is one.

But all that has changed. It began last year with my first trip to see the Rays. It's such a young, likable team. At the end of the regular season, I surprised everyone by staying up later than even husband on the playoff nights to see them win. My Rays interest was even strong enough to bridge into another season, and yesterday we had a great time at Tropicana Field with PLRH and her family watching them take down The Twins. I can say, with pride, that I can actually correctly recite the names of most players with accuracy. Another Gropius first.

I must admit that one of the only drawbacks to being there live (and up on the 3rd deck) was that the distance did not allow us to watch pitcher Balfour talking to himself. Major upset.

We wanted to share a bit of our baseball experience with you, like some interesting Longoria poses for all you ladies out there.

And how about answering a few questions if you know the answers. What's the deal with people still wearing the stickers on their new hats? I thought that died. I am incredibly curious about the butt slapping. It's a long lived tradition, but what--or who--started that? BJ Upton carries out the task with more excitement than running the bases.

My favorite player? Of course it's Pena. Adorable, charitable and always kind enough to sign an autograph.

The Week in Review

Last night, husband and I had our first date in about 8,000 years. Dinner at Saijo was lovely, and then...the crash. Literally I was so exhausted that the pull toward sleep overtook me like the most necessary and primordial need in the Universe. It felt like I had one too many margaritas, but unless someone slipped something in my soda, the only drug was exhaustion.

I have been so overwhelmed with various and sundry tasks, worries, details, etc. that thinking back on the week, I can scarcely remember a detail, oh, except maybe these:

• The pounding on the door by the City of Bradenton police department on Thursday at 3 am. A neighbor had called about the dog barking. Upon her persistent nagging, I let her out at 2:30 am and had fallen asleep again. I feel terrible that she was barking, especially since this happened the last time...ah, NEVER. I'm sure it was unpleasant (and I am truly sorry she was bothering someone at such a wee hour), but geeeeeez, this has never occurred before. It's a little extreme.
  
• Recounting the insane bus driver saga from school about 34 times. I finally contacted the State of Florida and a few media folks after sitting around waiting for the Manatee School Board to help me for over a month. Finally receiving some calls back, except it seems like no one can read, so I have to verbally repeat the juicy details over and over.
  
• Loads of stuff at work. Read the book.
  
• And to end on a good note...Yay! As no penis was detected during the last visit to the doctor, my bro & sister-in-law are having a girl! I am soooo excited. (Yes, I would totally be excited if it was a boy too.) Now, I can start my materialistic rampage for tiny feminine cloths and toys. (And maybe a few humorous gifts.)

According to Pine Lakes Redhead, Mercury will be exiting retrograde today. Seriously, Mercury. I've had enough of you.

Sea Bond Commercial = Bad Mood

One slip of the channel changer resulting in a land on this, and it's bad mood Gropius. It's like a vengeful advertising firm did a pro bono job for a client's friend...a client who screwed them over. They set out to make the most annoying commercial of all time, featuring the blood curdling singing of a drunk senior trio.

Tell me it's not just me. As you board Cruise Ship Annoying, imagine how many times this was filmed to get it right. (True, it looks like this was captured on a single, spontaneous round.) But if it was anything otherwise, someone earned their silver stars on the set.

One positive attribute: it's over in a jiff. Like a gunshot, it spares us from the slow torture of something more enduring. The memory of the ringing, nagging jingle remains, however, for a long, long time.

Um...You Do See That Shark, Right?

This isn't exactly the photo I wanted to show you, but if you check out the lower right corner, you'll gain a good sense of perspective from my friend's tank. It totally looks like he could be classified as dinner, without the slightest problem.

In the picture I really wanted you to see, he's looking directly at the camera, and in the distance, you see Large Marge making her way from behind. Tried plopping it in, but you can't make out the details.

What did you say? Reef sharks usually don't attack people? Frankly, Scarlett, I don't give a damn. Get me the hell out of there.

So yes, I do appreciate people who can enjoy the sport and wonderment of diving. I also appreciate the ability to navigate right here on the ground, with the outstanding certainty that a fish the size of Donald Trump's ego won't be on top of me.

A fresh approach to paper towels. Can they soak up annoyance too?

Honestly, I've been a little angry this weekend. It's silly, I know, when there's so much to be grateful for. But there are some situations that have gotten on my nerves to the point where I took advantage of this 3 day weekend to wallow. In retrospect, I'm even more agitated at the time and mental energy I've pooped away on them. Alas, sometimes you just need to process.

I would share the details, but I totally get it that you don't like reading rants unless they're funny. And I'm too annoyed now for that.

So! Instead, I'm bringing you a really exciting tool for your home, car or office. Paper towels! It's amazing to me that some of the most ridiculous items make it to "big time." (Like crocs, for instance.) So it's back to basics, baby.

I literally had no idea of the depths of paper towel utility until I watched this College Humor video. Take a gander yourself. It's the best 2 minutes you'll spend this hour. No more sham wow's for our household.

The Beach

Two same-sized swimmers stand with arms up
To embrace the impact of a coming wave

Broken shells in neutral colors
Tell the story of storms not long in the past

A woman with long black hair walks in the surf
Holding the hand of her daughter,
A miniature version of herself

Great blue heron steps cautiously in an angled trajectory
As an old man stumbles carelessly out of his swim
Destined to meet in an awkward crossing of paths

A pudgy boy pulls up his fleeing trunks
Over the exposed crack of his behind

"It was supposed to be a rainy day, all day long,"
said a passing lady to her lover.

Need a Laugh? I'm Becoming Fond of these Sources...

If laughter seems like a noun of the past, don't give up before you look at these winners.

• Cake Wrecks. Good grief there is some funny shiter on this site. Winner, 2008, for the best Food Blog.
• Awkward Family Photos. You have to read the captions to chuckle. Funny stuff.
• GoFugYourself. An all time classic.
• BurnThis.Com Pure, pure comedy. ....Although, the thing about her kids being a pain in the rump is a bit harsh.

So word to the wise, if you are offended by the content in these fine web logs, don't blame Gropius, just change the channel. Any others to add?

Mercury's In Retrograde...Can't Someone Stop This?

I'm not really sure what that means, but people tell me that it causes unexpected--and not necessarily good--things to happen. Here's a sum total of this week:

• Starting with the worst of it, the beloved feline companions belonging to two people at work died--in the same day. One was attributed to old age, the other from an unexpected death. So very sad...


• A family member's house was struck by lightening, frying tv, printer, modem, electric and phone.


• Monsoon season has hit. I mean, we do need the rain, but it's starting to seem doomsday-ish out there.


• A good friend didn't get a job she needed, should have gotten and would have been so very right for.
  
• Something bizarre is hitting certain "everyday interaction" people, making them behave in strange and not so nice ways. Our neighbor across the street went off the deep end and is taking some actions that are impacting others with totally negative and unnecessary consequences.

I know what you're thinking: stay the hell away from Gropius. It's not me...I swear! The good news is plentiful when you look at things the right way: there are new spots open for two homeless animals, the house didn't burn down and no one was hurt, the thirsty earth is getting watered, a better opportunity is on the way, and patience is building with practice. Plus, karma always wins.

There. I've adjusted my attitude. Now will someone just tell me how long this Mercury in Retrograde crap is going to last?

Wonder Wheel

It's literally been 16 years since I've seen the Wonder Wheel in downtown Sarasota. Every so often (usually in transport to to the Main Bar), we would spot a man with a slight figure peddling down the street in the middle of two 10 foot Amazon bicycle wheels. A very strange sighting. Any Gropius reader who also bore witness to this spectacle will receive a lifetime membership to the blog. (Later, I'll figure out what that means.)

I was reminded of the Wonder Wheel on Saturday as a very bored young man--on his last day of "groundation"--tried to keep himself amused. Kids. They'll find anything to play with. Especially the imaginative ones who dream up interesting ways to get in trouble to begin with.

Gotta give 'em credit.

Crying Over Spilled Meatballs

I actually had to back over the meatballs with my car to pull out of the parking space.

The scene: Primo's on US 41.
The big idea: Picking up a spaghetti dinner for my sweet friend in Punta Gorda with a broken leg.

The outcome: A massive spill of 8,000 degree meatballs all over the asphalt.

Yep, I'm still a vegetarian as I've been for 17 years. But when duty calls for a special person, I'll pick up the meat. The line is drawn when it's all over the ground.

But this time, I'll blame my little Honda Civic. I erroneously presumed that my trunk could double as a tray while opening the back door. Not so... As the meatball portion of the meal slid off, I watched in horror while darting after it in slow motion. The predictable splat must have completed a 3 mile radius, showering my car and what seemed like everything outward to Nokomis. A couple of home boys walked out of the restaurant saying, "Dude, that girl done spilled her food."

Luckily, the balls were the only casualty. After collecting myself and mopping up the mess on the unscathed food, I placed the bags in the back seat and drove off. 30 minutes later a call came to my cell from Primo's.

In a thick Italian accent I heard, "Hello, ma'm? Did you spill your meatballs outside all over the parking space? You come back. We get you some new ones."

Awwww, how sweet. Really, that was nice. They'll credit me the next time I visit for dinner. The lesson: Don't cry over spilled meatballs. Also, a trunk is a trunk. Nothing more.

Blind Date with a Blogger

Some assert that social media contributes to the emerging trend of "impersonal," driving conversations of all kinds to short blurbs on a public domain instead of face to face at a coffee shop. But without it, many coffee shop conversations would not take place, because you simply would not have met the person sitting opposite of you.

Last night I had a "blind date" of sorts with a blogger. Nope, it wasn't like that. But it was a great exploratory connection of the friendship kind. Let me explain.

I started following the Pine Lakes Redhead blog after catching a few of her comments on Uncommon Blonde. PLRH has become a frequent commenter on Gropius and we've laughed at our similarities. Who is PLRH? Like some of the anonoymous comment posters, I wasn't sure. Didn't even know if she lived here in Sarasota/ Bradentucky.

Strangely, I was approached by a friend at a meeting who reported that her co-worker was discussing a blog that she believed to be mine. I didn't recognize her name but immediately perked up when "Pine Lakes Redhead" was introduced into the conversation.

We started talking about all of us getting together, but only the two blogging girls were available. So we met last night for sushi, and what a delight! We have music, fishing-obsessed husbands, kids of the same age, and a few other more surprising life details in common...and for the love of Pete, we're both redheads. Gropius thoroughly enjoyed herself. Next time, we'll have to introduce the fams.

Very nice to meet you, Pine Lakes Redhead. And thanks for the heads up about snakes. I'll be sure to stage something exciting next time!

What if they mated?

It's pitiful that on many days, I get so exhausted that I'm asleep by 8 pm (if I'm even home by that time). Most of these early bedtime evenings, I wake up in a couple of hours and do more work.

Perhaps the greatest travesty of my unusual bed time is missing Late Night with Conan...soon to be a vestige itself as the Big C moves to a more prime time slot. One of my favorites from his show (not to be trumped by "In the Year 2000") was "If They Mated." I won't make you watch the entire 8 minute compilation from YouTube, but at least take a few moments to humor yourself.

Personally, I'd love to see Sarah Palin mated with Andrew Dice Clay. What would that look like? And which two celebrities would be the most intriguing mated pair? Gropius needs your thoughts.

Does the Florida Skunk Ape exist?

Don't challenge me on this one. Inquiring minds are wondering where Gropius gets off with 140+ blog posts and no content on the Skunk Ape.

Obsession with the existence of "theoretical," "mythical," or "legendary" creatures isn't a pastime of mine, but the Florida Skunk Ape is slightly different. The existence of an occult being living nearly close enough to be considered backyard wildlife strikes up the appeal. And for a 2 year period working at a nature center east of the Interstate, I heard my fair share of stories.

The skunk ape is aptly named by its odoriferous hair, soaked in the aroma of the southern swamps of our state. Of course it's a vegetarian, and though rarely seen, an entire museum has been dedicated to its legendary existence. A couple of years ago, Gropius organized an outing to the Florida Skunk Ape Research Headquarters in Ochopee, Florida--located in the heart of the Everglades. As you can see from the pics, it's a world class operation.

During a tour through the Thousand Islands with an Everglades National Park Ranger the following day, we learned that the folks who operate the headquarters are not exactly considered friends of the environment. Big shocker. Someone there allegedly dressed up in a Skunk Ape outfit and ran through a campground, scaring the daylights out of a few kids and their parents. One might ask if we really have to resort to these measures, given the fact that the creature is...er um...real.

(As an aside, I'll say that the collection of exotic snakes at the headquarters were interesting. But even more interesting was the number of large glass cages without lids... The escaped reptiles are most likely the ones we're seeing on the news, responsible for breeding and eating alligators.)

Rumor has it that the Myakka area is home to a one armed Skunk Ape. How did it loose the arm? Does it have a mate? How can I meet it? Please, someone provide me with answers. The suspense is killing me.

At the risk of being called corny, here it is: Happy Birthday, Bono.

What can Gropius say? The world is a better place because of you.

Readers, why not make a donation to the African Well Fund? There's a birthday campaign going on, and you can be part of it. Check it out here.

While I was scouting for a suitable photo for the b-day post, I found this one. Couldn't resist.

Mother’s Day, ProFlowers & Sprint?

I have a hunch. Sprint and ProFlowers are either owned by the same company or share the same employees. The similarities in customer disservice and task incompletion are uncanny.

You may remember the Sprint story from a couple months back. (And in case you’re wondering, I’m still receiving the bill for $0.23.)

As for ProFlowers, I warned husband not to use them again for Mother’s Day. This time, his mother received the wrong flowers…again. “Wrong” as in flowers he did not order. And “wrong” as in flowers that looked like wounded warriors: broken stems and petals. But the card was the funniest part. Verbatim, it read “From Chuck and Susan, who insisted on having their names included.”

Who the hell are Chuck and Susan? And what ProFlowers employee of the month included the rest of the message?

On one hand, this incident provides a bit of comedy. On the other hand, it’s Mother’s Day. You don’t mess around with that.

After husband left some choice words with the customer service rep who was lucky enough to pick up his call, he was told that the charge would be erased from his account and the correct flowers would be delivered immediately. But, “Oops! Our website is down temporarily. We’ll call you back in 10 minutes.” After two hours, husband called back ready to take some names. This time, “I’m sorry sir, we’re all out of flowers. It’s too late to have them delivered on Mother’s Day.”

Husband is working on a flower delivery from them next week with card reading “I’m sorry that ProFlowers is such a suck fest of a company.” Think they’ll do it?

I’ll spare you the relay of expletives from his phone conversation but leave you with this thought. If you order from ProFlowers, you’re guaranteed a card and something that used to grow in soil of some sort. As for specifics, it’s a real crap shoot. I wonder what Chuck and Susan’s mom received.

Things That Should Be Illegal

Here's my short list. What am I missing here?

1. Television "documentaries" covering what-if analyses of asteroids hitting the earth. Please. Another one was on last night. For one hour, it continued to show something that looked like a giant baked potato hurling toward the earth. The rest of the program consisted of a series of interviews with college professors interlaced with real footage of fire and waves. Should be illegal. There are plenty of things to scare us about that we can actually change.

2. Mustaches. No further explanation required.

3. NOT owning a Ped Egg. Oh man, they're the best. Everyone should have one. How can you not have one after seeing the satisfaction of grating your feet portrayed on commercials?

4. Ever seen those rims that keep spinning when cars are stopped at traffic lights? They should be illegal. Ugly, distracting, so unnecessary.

5. Grocery store check out cashiers analyzing your purchases. My gosh. Someone at the store on Manatee Ave literally makes a commentary on every third item that she scans. I've learned to avoid her check out line. So has everyone else. Her line will be clear of anyone, when every other line is stacked 3-4 people thick.

6. Pennies. Seriously...one cent? Can we PLEASE move past this? I would pay four cents more for anything to avoid the penny. No offense, Abe Lincoln.

and finally,

7. "Wife beater" tank tops. I just feel like sleeves are necessary for the male sex when in public. Or if men must wear tank tops, wear the kind without huge arm holes. It's just not right. ILLEGAL.

One Small Gift for the Birds?

On May 7, the hidden girl behind Gropius turns 33. Scary. Any number that's divisible by 11 is scary. ...Although 3 X 3 is 9, a sacred number, just like 3. Any way you slice it, there's a little somethin' I'd love to ask of you.

Watch this video, "The State of the Birds," a beautiful and informative 4 minute video made possible by the efforts of thousands of citizen-science participants. The website, video, and printed report were produced for the partnership by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (www.stateofthebirds.org) Consider all of the beautiful diversity surrounding us on this blue and green globe. And think of how much of it abounds in Florida--right here in Sarasota/ Bradenton.

Would you give $10 (or anything you felt comfortable with) to an organization that protects it, engages outdoor adventurers in it, and educates children and adults about its magnificence?

Think about it. And if you decide you can spare the change, click here to donate to the Sarasota Audubon Society in one easy and secure step. It would make the birthday blogger oh so happy. Learn more about Sarasota Audubon online at www.sarasotaaudubon.org. And thanks for considering.

Diverging from Life as I Know It with Pepsi Throwback

Summer vacation is far in the distance, and I have spring fever worse than any swine flu outbreak the media could conjure. I've just had enough. Know that feeling? Sure you do. But you could care less about reading my symptoms.

So let me diverge. What's up with this Pepsi Throwback thing? It sounds like Pepsi Vomit. Seriously, say it to yourself: "Throwback." Does that word elicit the sort of images you want to have of something you will digest? Or something you had partially digested that is returning for another look at the sun?

Here's another angle. Pepsi is spending good money to convince us that real sugar in softdrinks is much better than corn syrup...but Throwback is only offered for a limited time. Huh? So in a few months we'll go back to the crap?

I haven't exactly tasted it yet; coke is my downfall. So I'll have to post a follow up. Thoughts? Home taste tests? Gropius wants to know. After you post your comment ('cause you know I want it), listen to this NPR story on the drink. Love the Mountain Dew dissing at the end.

Is a greeting too much to ask?

Hey, jobs are not exactly growing on trees these days. And even if they were, I still think I'd be a little miffed at the current lack of good manners of many people working in retail (who I do have an immense respect for, by the way).

You'd think Lowe's was doing me a huge favor today by allowing me to shop there for soil and mulch. The cashier smacked her lips when she realized she needed to stop watering to ring up my expensive bags of dirt. When she said nothing to greet me, I said "Hey there! How are you today?" Her response "Good."

At the drive thru at Goodwill on Manatee Ave a few weeks ago, my entire drop-off of lightly used goods took place with only one word uttered by the attendant. "Yes." That was in response to my dare-to-ask question, "You take books, don't you?" No "hello," no "thank you," no nothin'.

Is it picky of me to expect places you're either donating to or buying from to train their staff to greet you? Maybe I'm just being silly, but the lack of manners freakin' drives me nuts.