It truly is God's waiting room, especially this time of year when all of the snow birds are still there. Oh, the people are pleasant enough. Almost too pleasant. I find that's a trait that I myself have become guilty of lately. Well, maybe not, at least not to that degree. But you know, at least some of you know how it goes when you reach an age to where you truly don't give a damn about the petty troubles of this world because you have finally come to a point to where you realize that there ain't one dang thing you can do about any of it and there aren't enough years left to do it anyway. So... why worry? Be happy.
What got this started was a weekend get-a-way down to Tavares, Florida to meet my old buddy Punch and a visit to the Sunnyland Antique Boat Show. It seemed as good an excuse as any for getting out of town for a weekend adventure.
|Found a nice old-Florida motel. Pretty dog-eared but clean and operated by (who else?) an Indian couple named (what else?) Patel. Suited our retro-weekend perfectly. Although, I do wish they could find bath towels larger than diapers.|
|Lots of beautiful old woody's. They really are grand.|
|Did I mention there were boats? Lots of boats. Old boats...|
|... and new boats...|
|.. and whew boats...|
|... and rhythm and blues boats...|
|... and places to party...|
|...and stuff to look at...|
|... and stuff to buy...|
|...and a geezer orchestra on Friday night that laid down some fine big band swing.|
|... and a geezer rock band the next night that laid down some fine boogy and one of the best cover's of Sweet Etta's "At Last" that I have ever heard...|
|... and an old steam train that carries old people around in a big circle. These folks were patiently waiting for the next train, scheduled to arrive in one hour. See what I mean?|
All-in-all a pretty fine weekend and well recommended. As a plus, the nearby town of Mt. Dora is really a beautiful little tourist destination with all of the accompanying restaurants, boutiques and antique malls you would expect.
However, be that as it may, by Sunday morning I began to itch, and headed north to the comfortable confines of Baja Georgia. I was so pleased to see a youngster that I didn't even mind that he gave me the finger in traffic. How sweet it is.