Greens

The garden is looking good this year, so far, with green beans beginning to twist and turn to find supporting structures to cling to and flower sprouts making their way up from the soil. Some habanero peppers have already come in (but still show no signs of heat in taste) and the garden herbs are ready for eating. By fall, we should hopefully have a good collection of tomatoes. The bottles in the photographs? An experiment on watering for while we are away on vacation that mimics those expensive glass bulbs they advertise on television.

But, there is also The Mystery Seed, a brown corn-like kernel that Mia rescued from the dusty concrete floor of the Home Depot. We potted it and, in under a week, it has sprouted a single leaf, leaving us mad with guessing on what it could possibly be. I'm placing my bets on something thick and vegetable-like while Mia is putting money on the table that it is a flower, but knowing what kinds of chemicals are to be found in the garden section of the orange box store leaves me wondering if we're not going to end up with some kind of hideous, mutant poison plant. Sadly, we may never actually know what it is if it never gets big enough, doesn't put out flowers, or fails to produce anything.


All guesses welcome.

Unscheduled Therapy

In the month following the wedding, I've been subjected to all the standard, reasonable questions concerning my marriage. By week three, it has become somewhat routine.

Thank you, yes, the wedding went great.
Yes, it was a highly stressful event.
No, life doesn't feel much different than before we were married.
Yes, I have a ring. See?
Etc, etc.

Except at my office, the congratulations seem to always shift to unusual side topics and, on occasion, turn down a dead-end path of awkward social discomfort that no amount of play will permit me to escape gently. I'm fairly confident that it is only marriage congratulations that can change so quickly into one-sided therapy sessions with me on the unfortunate receiving end of a series of must-tell stories about previous marriages and relationships that ended in disastrous wrecks of twisted metal and mangled emotions. "Welcome to the club", one officemate said as he shook my hand and started into the standard spiel: "I love marriage, but it wasn't until my third that I came to truly appreciate it." That seems to be how these lectures start and I'll note that the descent is rapid and uncorrectable. No amount of fidgeting, panicked pretend dialing of a phone, or declarations of intent to walk to an important meeting on the other side of the building will end it early or peacefully. What soon follows this opening consists of bitter recounts of unsuccessful attempts to mold a first love into the person they desired and the heartbreak endured during the final realization that marrying so young was a rushed decision that ended in failure. These acrid tales are always finalized with a forlorn sigh and that unique upwards glance with sad eyes that relays the message, "Oh, you poor bastard. You're going down the same road, aren't you?" I suppose, in a way, these moments are akin to post high school graduation hugs and "keep working hard"/"be careful out there" messages, but I don't seem to ever remember any of these talks digging into darker depths of tales on how a diploma pushed a man to counseling, then the bottle, and finally to AA meetings before he reached bottom. Once word got around that I had just been hitched, a queue of hand wringing men and women burdened by their own albatrosses formed at my office and seemed to stretch into the distance. My pending psychology degree has proven to be of no help.

I've also been equally surprised at how often the topics don't involve marriage. Other personal issues have managed to thread their way into the conversation out of some unusual, burning necessity brought on by the presence of a newlywed. One woman several desks down the hall stopped by my office last week to take the opportunity to congratulate me and to tell the story of how she met her first husband in the office, how everything was stellar at her wedding and during their first several years of matrimony, and how could anyone like me keep working at a terrible place like this and why are workers' insurance costs going up as they keep offshoring more jobs while hiring incompetent contractors instead of employees but they won't let her retire yet? The gear change was that quick, yet the workplace griping went on for another twenty minutes before a subtle and graceful return to how wonderful life is with husband number two. I remained frozen in place with wordless terror until she flashed the universal acknowledgment that her venting was complete, "the smile", which signifies that "I'm okay, my marriage is okay, everything is okay, and you're going to be okay, too". With lifted shoulders, she marched confidently away while enjoying a freshly cleared mind.

Don't take this post as me showing anger over this strange phenomenon and the people airing their life's grievances in these impromptu and unexpected therapy sessions. If anything, I've heard some fun stories that I'll be sure to treasure for years to come.

So, yes, I was recently wed. Have a seat on the couch over there and we'll begin.

Real Estate Never Goes Down

...unless you're forced to take a loss. From a complex just north of me in luxurious New Tampa:

The 396 units in Portofino were put on the market as condos in 2006, but the developer sold just 31 of them. Last July, an apartment management company bought the rest of the units. Now, that company wants to terminate the condominium, buy out the individual unit owners - at today's lower market rate - and convert the whole complex back to apartments.

And, apparently, the condo owners may have little say. A revised Florida statute and provisions in the original condominium declaration make it easier for the developer to force owners out.

Well, this can't possibly go on for much longer, right?

Since 2004, nearly 29,000 apartments were converted to condominium units in Hillsborough, Pinellas, Pasco and Hernando counties, according to New York-based research firm Real Capital Analytics. That's the third highest of all metro areas in the nation. Only the metro areas of Miami-Palm Beach and Orlando have more. So far, 3,500 units in the Tampa area have reverted to apartments, according to the research firm.

The Florida of 1925 called and wants its swamp back.

Nutty Legislation

The big uproar in Florida at the moment doesn't concern the real estate crash, Democratic primary votes, budget cuts, or gasoline prices. Our government is embroiled in something far more threatening:

The Fake Testicle Debate of 2008

Burns said he has seen the adornments but doesn't know anyone who has them.

"I drive a Prius," he said, "so I wouldn't put them on it."

Summer Escape

It is nearly time once again to escape to higher ground, to sleep in a tent, to live off of rationed supplies.

No, it is not hurricane season, yet, although this newfound camping ritual happens to coincide with the beginning of tropical terror time. Still, there is something very fitting (and possibly comforting) about spending the start of the season in lush mountains far away from the warming waters of the coast and the towering anvil heads feeding off the rising energy in their attempt to convince the coriolis effect to set them spinning.

There's also the whole fun of the road, which always leads to the possibility of highway side BBQ and other worldly attractions. You can never turn those down.

Oh, how I am looking forward to this.

That photo? Toivo took it.

Movement

Yeah, I think I'm going to move my blog here. This will work out better, for a number of reasons.

More on this in a bit.