I apologize in advance for the earworms*.
O, Florida! Sandbar state of gators and grannies, you are a source of endless fascination! Your wonders are many. Here are a few:
This business about unruly curly hair in this climate is true! I happen to like having the humidity pump up the volume of my hair so much that I look like Barry Gibb. When I connected my puffy hair with the Bee Gees last night, "How Deep is Your Love?" began to spin in my head. I sang just a little to my hubs ("...cause we're living in a world of fools/bringing us down/when they all should let us be/we belong to you and me") and he fell into the brothers Gibb song warp. Now you're caught in the dreaded spiral. Feel free to hate me, my hubs sure did. But the hubs, as a man of science, should have known better to aim his wrath at his very own auditory cortex which, according to other men and women of science, continues to spin the unwanted tune without your permission.
MRIs on every block! Why is that? Hubs, that man of science, informed me it's for the elderly population, but I think the MRIs are for the folks who have McCain signs in the front yards (the first I've seen, being from Northern California and all). McCain is for another 100 years in Iraq which is nuts, thus McCain backers need to have their heads examined. A neuro MRI does the deed in color and cross sections. Of course, the MRIs would have done a fine job in locating my overactive auditory cortex, which is now stuck, without rhyme or reason, on "My Sharonna".
The Venice of North America, Fort Lauderdale, with its waterways in and around both swank and modest neighborhoods. On a walk with Malcolm, I located our local canal:
I think these are lovely. I scanned the water for manatees and gators, but none were available for viewing. Unfortunately, a song of my youth, "Poke Salad Annie (the gator's got your granny)" got revved up on my mental turntable. Truth be told, Tony Joe White, the father of 'Swamp Rock', is preferable to the aforementioned Bee Gees any time.
Family! Behold my hale and hardy 90 year old mom-in-law and my not-a-mean-bone-in-her-body sister-in-law Barbara, hangin at their crib. They're just up I-95 from our sweet little vacation house. We're going over there now and, as I told my Twitter friends, I better put on a proper bra. Heck, I should put on clothes. I can't think of a song suggestive of poolside nudity. Visuals, yes, but in my case your image would involve a 52 year old mother with mild but persistent cellulite issues.
Come on, put on your clothes and let's see our peeps.
* Earworm, a loan translation of the German Ohrwurm, is a term for a portion of a song or other musical material that becomes "stuck" in a person's "head" or repeats against one's will within one's mind.













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