Ramblings. As in: Have Words -Will Ramble. As in: Ramble: to write or talk aimlessly or without sequence of ideas, to proceed with turns and twists; meander As In: observances of an everyday life in passing through the spectrum of extraordinary.
Down on the Bayou
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I've gone missing. That means no one knows where I am. Family and friends can't find me. No cell phones. No email I'm wifi-less. At least for 2 solid hours.
I'm packed and on my way to Nashville. Well, almost on my way. With one side bar sidetrip. There wasn't enough time this visit for sandy beaches and waves and sun and warm gulf waters (even though I can hear them calling my name) but I was determined that one personal tradition wasn't going to slip away from me. I have this personal tradition called Bayou Joes. The place has survived every huriricane that has whipped through these inlet waters now for years on end and who knows why.. And I'm so glad it's here - still here. A little house standing out on pilings in water. And it's like this.
Right now the seagulls, those scavengers of the sky, are screaming like only they can do and it's a lullybye to my soul. It belongs to me. Now the bridge whiste sounds on the old Tarpon Dock draw bridge. One of the actual working draw bridges left in Florida with a little house in the middle and man in the middle of the little house. A physical honest to God person pushing the buttons and raising the bridge when a tall masted sailboat tries to pass out into the deep water or back into the harbor. (Think It's A Wonderful Life) People will pull right up and tie off to a piling on the dock and step off to order garbage omelets and fish sandwitches and depending on the time of day coffee or beer. And as the saying goes, it doesn't get any better than this.
There's a sign that says Don't Feed The Seagulls but feeding the fish is okay. (Note: The seagulls are on to this. They know fish feeding means free food and flock and dive in accordance.)
The boats have names like Contessa, Wayfarer, Soul Mates, and Last Chance, Dreamweaver, and The Dawn Treader (a sailor after my own heart there.) There's a steady bridge drone, the lap of ripples against the pilings, the low voices of fishermen, and boat people, coming in or taking off or just doing nothing but always, always, discussing the weather. And the palms trees mix in freely with the mossy oaks at the waters edge.
I know this place, this piece of my old backyard better than I know my own skin. I know the way the air feels when it's going to be hot all day and a raging thunderstorm will pour in around 2 and blow out by 3. I know the smell of hurricane when it's a 100 iles off shore. Then fifity. Then upon you. (And if you like saltwater, islandy, hurricane and mystery stories - check out The Gin Girl found elsewhere on this website.)
These are the things in me that are and will always be - saltwater and sunshine and fish and the seagulls cry. I could be 99 years old and living in Eygpt and I would still be able to close my eyes and be here. Right here.
But now it's time to go draft the trail of that man of mine heading north with coolers FULL of FISH. I feel a fish fry of major porportions coming on and I've got to be sure I'm right on time. Labels: bayou, boats, fish, home, writers
posted by River Jordan at 2:39 PM
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Florida Bound
Friday, August 24, 2007
Okay, so after the broken air, the fixed air, the whole air conditioner thing and this record breaking heat wave slamming us in Nashville how have I decided to deal with it all? Easy, just jump in the car and head south for the coast of Florida where humidity should be oh, 200,000 percent. Well, when it's time to go visit Momma, heat and humidity just can't be considered an obstacle. So, I've packed my book bag and it's full of some of this and a little of that. I'm leaving big old white Titan the wonder dog (translation: nothing but a worthless big ole hairy love rug) with his favorite dog sitter who's known him since he was just a furry looking pet seal and off I go to catch up with Mr. Wonderful who is blazing a trail to go deep sea fishing. This is good. Very good. I'm the wife that says go, go, go fishing. That's because by the time I show up I'm hoping the deep fryer is plugged in, the fish is battered in Zatarans, and I'm about to eat some of the bestest, freshest, saltwater fish a person can eat until my eyes bug out like a grouper. Anthony Bourdin WISHES he had a plate full of the good stuff. And hey, we wish he was in the neighborhood because we'd invite him in for bite.
So off I go with visions of leisurely hanging out with no agenda, no work, no pressure and maybe, JUST MAYBE forgetting for a few minutes that I SHOULD really be writing because i'm only a smidgen, just a tad I tell you, away from signing off on the new novel and shipping upsteam to NY.
Okay, those daydreams are already gone. I'll write. The book is calling. Those people are waiting on me and right now they're in a bit of a supernatural jam.
But hey, it'll all be mixed in with great friends and momma's and fish and Mr. Wonderful, and sunshine, and salt air, and cousin Deb making me laugh as only she can.
Maybe, just maybe, I'll even get a chance to read. Labels: fish, florida
posted by River Jordan at 11:43 PM
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Elvis and more Elvis
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Okay - the air is fixed and yes Amen and a very special thank you to that master air conditioning man coming out on A SUNDAY to make our lives livable again. I'd like to report that after 2 weeks of unbearable in the 100s shut up with not much breathable air- Mr. Wonderful and I are still married. More than this, we are actually still speaking to one another. LIke, friends and everything. However, we're not far enough along yet to LOOK BACK AND LAUGH. Predictions and forecasts say that Nashville will be returning to NORMAL temps by the end of the month and that is delightful! All the leaves in Percy Warner Park are falling, falling, falling to the ground from suicide. They refuse to wait for fall in this heat and with no air. Even the big white dog refused to walk in the heat and said, "Forgetaboutit " and turned about face to go back to the car.
Two weeks ago Karen Spears Zacharias www.heromama.org = was featured on Backstory on the Radio and she shared the fact that the moment she heard that Elvis had died she immediately picked up a strange fear of flying. Now, I thought I did a great breakitondown job right there on the air to get to the root of the problem. I mean afterall, everyone in the south knows that Elvis was larger than life, that by some strange standards he was viewed as immortal, so the news that Elvis COULD DIE, ACTUALLY DIE, LIKE FOR REAL DIE, shook all of us to the core. And those of us who were young enough that we were still in the immortal age of teenagerhood suddenly went - oh my, if he can drop like a turkey buzzard from the sky on a thanksgiving weekend shoot then, yep, obviously it could happen to us at any time - ergo, like on this plane trip I'm about to take. Nice and neat brain fodder but NOW KAREN tells me that she saw Presilla Presley on Larry King Live and that she said Elvis had a huge fear of flying. HUGE. So now Karen immediately figures that he left a few things behind when he left orbit and one of them was fear of flying and that she got that piece. (Okay - she may have been joking so don't rag her on this. And in case she wasn't just use it for a great conversational opener about stuff - alright?)
BACKSTORY, your radio road trip continues this Saturday with Songwriter, singer, musician and book promoting wizard Jeff Jacobs stopping in this Saturday, August 18th at 4pm. Some tunes, some stories, some words of writing advice from here and there and yours truly.
And right now, yours truly must take her own advice and get back to completing my next novel. Thanks for dropping in and remember to give all my best to your Mama and them.
Oh yes, and if you are into mystical, meditative things, or you've ever gone thought a bad divorce, or you've ever loved someone with crazy passion, or you love everything Italian - run, don't walk, to pick up the new out in paperback copy of Pray, Eat, Love - Don't worry about the title, just pick it up and enjoy. Particularly if you happen to like Anne Lamont you won't want to pass this up.
So chow baby.
And Safe Journey out in this big, wide world.
River Jordan Labels: elvis, heat, karen spears zacharias
posted by River Jordan at 11:23 PM
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