In case this song isn’t stuck in your head yet, the lyrics go,
I blew out my flip-flop
Stepped on a pop top
Cut my heel, had to cruise on back home.
You guys remember pop tops, right?
The Beautiful Nuisance of Iguanas
I apparently don’t need them to mess up my feet. First I sprained my ankle walking out of the running shoe store. Now those running shoes are giving me blisters (you were right, Karen from Texas). So I’m reduced to wearing flip flops that I blew out (which I’m guessing means when the thong pops out of the sole, and you can shove it back in and still wear them but only carefully).
That’s where the iguana as a hazard comes in. Our neighbors (the grandfather of the family in which the father had a heart attack and is recovering now in Ft. Lauderdale) had an iguana up in the engine of his motor home not once but twice, and he finally got it out by spraying an awful-smelling anti-iguana concoction into the engine and leaving the hood open for days.
Either that iguana or another (we’ve seen several sauntering around the RV park like they live here or something) was the death of my flip-flops. I was riding my bike back from the laundry house with two loads of clean laundry in my backpack-style laundry bag on my back (no small feat) and peddling like crazy wearing my blown-out flip-flops.
And Wham, I didn’t see the iguana in the road until just in the nick of time, but when I slammed on my bike brakes and tried to keep the laundry on my back and avoid slicing the iguana in two, I broke the flip-flops for good.
I had to cruise on back home (barefoot, with bandaids on my foot from the running shoes) where, sadly, there was no booze in the blender, that soon would render, a frozen concoction to help me hang on. (In fact, Tracy makes me the best fresh margaritas on the rocks, with real limes, agave syrup, and thin slices of jalapeño, just the way I like.)
Now I Know I’m a Beach Bum
To continue this theme, yesterday I packed a bag and walked right by the manicured beach with lounge chairs here at the RV park, under the bridge, and to the lagoon. No one was around because it was an unusually high tide, so I had to wade through the water to pass under the bridge, and then again to get to the last spot of sand I found.
Bliss. I walked out in the water for a while and laughed with (kind of at) a couple who was trying to paddle board during the high tide, but the guy kept making these loud belly-flop sounds each time he lost his balance and hit the water. It was kind of rough, compared to the crystal-clear, calm green that it usually is.
So I made my way back to the sand and spread my stuff out and created my own personal beach spot.
After I finished my book, I even fell asleep. You know that is perfection, right?
Until a couple walked up and said, politely, “Hello!” so I wouldn’t freak out when they stepped over me to try to keep going along the lagoon. The tide wouldn’t let them get far though (she was wearing a dress), so they stopped and asked me about what’s out in the water, and where the table covered in shells is, and when’s the best time to get in the water.
That’s when I knew I’m officially a beach bum around here. I knew all the answers, sent them back, and fell back asleep. I’ve replaced the dude who used to sit in this spot to get high in the afternoons. Except I’m reading and napping and taking pictures of the water. Same thing.
Evening View from All Our Windows
One of the selling points of Airstreams is the panoramic view you get with certain models, either behind your bed or at your sofa, or both in our case. You may remember that view I loved so much of Lake Superior.
Here at Sunshine Key we’re in the Class A Motorhome Dark Holler, but the evening views out the upper windows and skylights are still lovely.
Okay, you guys please keep staying safe.