Floods, Bizarro Worlds, Cookies and Sunshine

Yes indeed, that WAS me that you saw down at the seawall this morning in my big fleecy, forest green robe with faux fur hat, paisley scarf and bright red slippers...in minus five degree weather.

Hey, the sunrise was a beauty -- I had to snap it! Of course. I would’ve climbed down onto the beach too -- it was low tide and the light on the rocks and shells looked monster fine -- but there were some major snow drifts in my way.

Tomorrow I’ll be prepared. I’ll pull on my boots and grab The Amazing Bob’s cane before I go out. Yes I will.

Yesterday, after the snow finally ended and the sun poked it’s head out of the overcast, TAB and I motored off the the Neck to forage for supplies. Tuna -- our poor Rocco deserved a dish after living through that storm. Eggplant. Because I love it, that’s why! And toilet paper. You know, the necessities in life.

I’d forgotten that at high tide, after these big storms, the Neck essentially becomes an island. The one road on and off, Sea Street, gets swamped right by Saint Erin’s house. She’s fine but the road’s a lake.

TAB and I were able to make it through -- the water wasn’t so deep yet. On our return though, the street was blocked. A very nice officer dude told us that the tide was at peak and the icy water was too deep to ford and we should come back in a half hour or so.

OK. Swear to Bast the Neck’s gonna be an island year round in another ten years minimum.  Hope to hell the town builds us a bridge before then.

How did TAB and I wile away our wait while the tide had a chance to recede? Why, we went to Saint Fratelli’s of course! TAB got a black and white. I had a luscious piece of carrot cake. We sat, read the paper, snarfed our goodies while pointing out odd bits from the day’s Globe.

We discovered that Bob Grant had died. Creepy as all fuck seeing my honey pie’s name in an obit. THIS Bob Grant, however, was our TAB’s Bizarro World opposite. He was a foul, cretinous, minuscule minded, asswipe piece of humanity and is ‘credited’ as being ‘the template for broadcasters such as Sean Hannity and Rush Limbaugh’
No tears here.

And then my sweet TAB pointed out this article ‘In Fla., tanning salons exceed fast food outlets’

‘There are more tanning salons in Florida than McDonald’s or CVS stores and their widespread use poses a public health risk, a new report warns.’

Rocco emerges from his cave

Emmm
Carry coals to Newcastle much? Bringing ice to the Arctic? Giving Donna gifts of feral cats? Tanning beds to FLORIDA?

The state really takes the torte for craziest, oddest territory. I’ve always thought Tim Dorsey and Carl Hiaasen’s mystery novels were, well, wild exaggerations of life in the The Sunshine State.

Guess not.

I found this on Buzzfeed -- 21 More Reasons Florida is the Craziest State. My fav: 

‘Mean Drunk’ smears iguana ‘poop’ on teenager’s head

What’s with the scare quotes? Was his action NOT ‘mean?’ Was the ‘poop’ NOT real, actual feces?

In any case, here in the frozen North, we’re due for 27 whole degrees today (we’ve got two now).

A beach day perhaps or maybe I need to continue with my snow shoveling activities? While Schmooze Master Rocco’s porch kingdom is mostly clear, there’s still work to do. Plus, my Wonder Trike’s still buried and I MUST RIDE SOON!