More Of This N' That

People are interesting. Down here in Destin, Florida I'll run into men and women from all over the United States. There are scads of Canadians; mostly from around the Toronto area. One of the best of times is when I go to the driving range. Last week a fella next to me was hitting balls . He was the general manager of a golf course and the only hotel in Cooperstown, New York. Unless you've been living in a basement your entire life Cooperstown is the home of the Baseball Hall of Fame. My family visited Cooperstown twenty years ago. It's just as you would guess; a quaint New England village with s beatiful lake in the center of town. Can you guess his name? I can't either because thirty seconds after he introduced himself I had forgotten it. Then there were three men from Vermont who let me join their threesome.
I've decided there's one thing all men have in common when on the golf course: regardless if you're from Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, Vermont or Ontario the F word us pretty much universal. There's nothing like the F word to achieve total camaraderie among men. Now I'm think they may even say it in France.

About ten years ago I attended an industrial convention as a part of my job. It was in downtown Columbus, Ohio and after entering the pavilion I had to register. At one of the booths was a hot looking babe so obviously I gravitated toward where she was sitting. I was standing in line waiting to be signed in and I noticed she had an ID with her hometown on a badge lying off to the side. It happened to be a burg community in Manitoba. There was also a large Canadian map directly behind her with her province, the county and her hometown. As long as a person isn't hurtful it's okay to play with people's minds isn't it? That's what I always tell myself. When it was my turn to fill out the forms she asked me a question. I mentioned that she must be from Manitoba. "How did you know that", she said? "I'm a territorial linguist and I've been brought in as a speaker to help salesmen adapt to their customers by learning the nuances of local dialects", I answered. A person would have to be more than eccentric to come up with this explanation so I guess that explains me. At any rate, I told her it was easy to tell she was from Manitoba. I got the normal "Oohs and Aahs". Then I said I could do one better than that. I proceeded to tell her what county she lived in and I topped off the ice cream Sunday with this cherry. "And your hometown is so and so". And do you know what I did next? I picked her jaw up off the floor and walked away. No harm, no foul.
Yesterday I played the Links golf course in Miramar Beach. It's a scenic 18 holes that wraps around the Whatchahatchee Bay. On the 9th, a par 5, I was waiting to hit my second shot. My ball was twenty feet from the water so I walked over to side of the fairway and looked down at the crystal clear site. . There were, at the very least, five dozen balls below the surface and ten feet from shore. My heart began to pound. "It wouldn't take much to remove my pants and jump in", I thought. "I wonder if the lady in our group would mind"? I doubt she would have said anything but her husband might have so I tucked that thought away for later reference. Maybe I could sneak out just before sunset. It was at that very point in time I counted eight jellyfish floating aimlessly near the white, circular treasures. If you've never seen one they're shaped like a bell, whitish in color; almost transparent, with small tentacles. These were about eight inches in length with a circumference of the same. Their life consists of bobbing in the sea, their movements subjected only to currents and high winds. They do nothing except eat; no pressures, no chores, no obligations. They ARE my new heroes.
Lizzie's on a health kick. When were arrived here she thought she was looking like a sack of potatoes. When I'm on vacation, which is everyday, if I thought I looked like a 5 lb. bag of Russets I'd buy a 10 lb. bag. Lizzie began to work out on the treadmill then after this she takes a four mile walk. She's also cut out snacks and eats salads. The poor girl is demented. And this is what has surprised me most. She's dropped weight whereby she has no waist. What do they call it? Oh yeah, an hour glass figure. Maybe tomorrow I'll begin her regimen---but I doubt it. Besides, it'll be Saturday. That's one of my days of rest.