The Sweatiest Road Trip Ever - Day 11 - Maybe Florida Will Let Us Live. Maybe...

Day 11 - The Final Day In Florida

I work up early and made a cup of coffee to take down to the pool deck for some morning reading.

Not a bad start to the day.

On my way to the pool, I couldn't help but notice the last line on this sign. You had one job, sign guy.
Also, unlike the previous pool, it is apparently okay to swim here if you are ill with diarrhea. Good to know!

After my coffee, I went for a long walk along the beach. The waves had subsided a bit and I notice large, black areas of water near the shore. The ranged in size from a few feet across to 50 or 60 feet across. Because of how well the water in Florida had treated us so far, I naturally waded in to see what sort of sting, bite, puncture, burn, break, rash, or infection I could get.

The black pools were actually huge schools of tiny minnows swirling and swimming near the shore. It was sort of magical to watch and, contrary to Florida maritime law, did not hurt me in any way. I passed a couple who were obviously making their fortune off the fishy phenomenon. Or they were getting dinner. I actually have no idea which.

He had a huge net and was wading into the middle of a school of fish. He slapped the net into the water a few times and brought up a writhing ball of fish. She would run over with a 5 gallon bucket, he'd dump the fish in and she'd empty the bucket into a cooler that was up on the shore.

When the novelty of watching other people work had worn off, I went back to the hotel and we all spent the day at the pool, watching other people work.

The only real excitement of the day was when the maintenance crew descended en masse around the pool, quietly and calmly asking everyone to exit the pool for routine maintenance.

It seemed to us that routine maintenance generally doesn't not occur in the middle of the day while everyone is escaping the heat.

That can only mean one thing.

We eagerly watched the scene. Even though none of the maintenance guys weaved his way across the pool deck clutching a steaming turd in a pair of long-handled tongs, we have our suspicions.

While we waited for the pool to be sanitized and de-pooped, we walked along the beach where Alex continued his practice of flicking beached jellyfish back onto the water so other people could enjoy The Complete Pensacola Experience*.

*Now, 85% stingier!


When the All Clear blew, we spent the rest of the day lounging around in the hopefully poop-free pool.

The pool. Viewed from above. No poops from here! 

The Tiki Bar because, as per Florida law, every establishment, no matter what sort of business it is, MUST have a Tiki Bar on premises.

The menu is cleverly posted along the lazy river. Fiendishly effective!

Eventually, it was time for dinner and since we had dropped the vegetarian off at college, we made a solemn family pact to try as many BBQ places as we could on the way home. We weren't technically on the way home yet, but it seemed wise to get a jump-start on this endeavor.

Because you needed to see my food.

With smoky deliciousness still lingering in our mouths, we headed back to the pool for a night-time swim. It was quiet and warm and wonderfully relaxing. Which is good. 

Because tomorrow, we hit the road again.

Margret and H.A. Rey Residency: Day 1 - Oh, the Humanity!

Day 1:
I need to apologize before I even begin this post, dear readers. It's been a very difficult time here on my first morning as the Artist in Residence at the Margret and H. A. Rey Center.

I was forced - please, delicate readers be warned, this gets graphic and I will include photos for proof - I was forced, before I had even had a cup of coffee this morning, to decide which of the three balconies I should sit on to drink my coffee and read.

Balcony #1 with views of the distant mountains?

Balcony #2, overlooking the nearby trees?

Balcony #3, which looks up at the home of my hosts?

How am I supposed to make decisions like this before coffee?

Eventually, and after much internal deliberation, I selected Balcony #1 because the chairs looked more comfortable than the others.

I've decided to post daily blog updates to warn my artist friends who may be considering applying for this residency next year. Don't do it! Please, please, please. Spare yourself this ordeal.

The description on the website describes the accommodations for the artist as "a guest cottage". 

Yesterday, I arrived with my family and found this to be my "guest cottage":

ONLY 3 stories tall? You call that a guest cottage? Why, it's barely large enough to accommodate me and 20 or 25 of my closest friends. WHAT IF I WANT TO HAVE 26 PEOPLE OVER?!?

Walking inside, we were shocked at the conditions I was to be subjected to for the next 2 weeks.

My family is knocked off their feet as they witness the huge, airy, beautiful living space on the third floor of my "guest cottage". They beg me to come home so I will not have to endure 2 weeks of suffering in these conditions.

The bright, open kitchen with the sliding doors that overlook the Mad River.

Kerri tried hard to provide me with some semblance of comfort , but even the wine rack was ill-suited to my needs. WHY MUST I SUFFER SO?

Another view of the top-floor space where I will be forced to spend most of my time working away at the craft I love.

The view off one of the balconies, showing the house of my incredibly kind hosts, Chris and Len. They're probably sitting up there right now, laughing over their coffee, because they only have one huge deck to choose from, not 3, like me.
My suffering knows no bounds.

The study, with its tasteful decorations and comfy reading chair, complete with a small built in table PROVIDING ME WITH YET ANOTHER CHOICE FOR WHERE TO HAVE MY MORNING COFFEE.

Alex is such a great kid, he offered to spend two weeks sitting in the chair so that I wouldn't have to make yet another coffee-related decision.

The master bedroom, where I will be forced to try to sleep on the comfy king-sized bed.

The upstairs bathroom, where I must look at nature as I brush my teeth. I don't know how I will survive these conditions.

Tori, my brave daughter, offered to spend the two weeks ensconced in the downstairs living room, to guard against unwanted visitors like zombies, bears, moose, and chipmunks.

I explained to her that that was what the high wooden gates out front were for, and sent her back home with Kerri and Alex so they wouldn't need to suffer with me.

After we arrived and settled in a bit, I was greeted by Birdie and Margaret, who took us on a tour of the lovely town of Waterville Valley.

If that weren't enough  for one man to endure, I then attended a dinner with the Board of Directors of The Rey Center. There was delicious food, lovely wine (which did not even come out of a box, like the wine I am accustomed to), and sparkling conversation with a really nice group of people. And all of it took place in the beautiful home of my hosts, Chris and Len.

This house, in case you have forgotten.

I will be posting on my blog daily so that I can continue to warn all my artist friends about the  conditions I am being subjected to. Please, my friends, heed my warning: Don't apply for this residency next year, using this link right here:

http://thereycenter.org/artist-residency.html

Let me do it, so that you won't have to go through what I am going through. That's how much I care about you, my friends. That's how much I care.