• Snow job

    On the second day of our week’s end, we carefully crafted a day with a special event as its centerpiece. An area mall was to have snow, and we planned to travel twenty miles to see it.

    In the grand tradition of Saint Walt (the patron saint of tourism based economies) we Floridians manufacture what Mother Nature does not provide. As is often the case in December, the elements have denied us our Halmark given right to a winter wonderland. So, like many other places in the south, the mall was going to make some for us.

    Only they didn’t.

    Imagine my surprise when I walked down the path at the outdoor festival shopping plaza, saw the white flurries swirling in the air not thirty feet in front of me, saw the crowd enthusiastically taking advantage of this rarest of Florida events, then noticed upon close inspection that these white flurries were the product of air blown across soapy water.

    There we were, on a cool Florida evening, standing with a hundred or so of our fellow Floridians, subjecting ourselves to flurries of foam.

    I felt so used, but the disappointment quickly faded. The sight was so preposterous that I doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. I looked around and noticed my father and my wife. They were laughing too.

    So there we were, surrounded by a hundred or so of our fellow Floridians, doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. It was like we were the only ones that got the joke, and the joke was on all of us.

    Hey, if you can’t laugh at yourself,

  • The Urban league

    If ESPN sources can be believed, the Urban era at the University of Florida has begun. Where were you when you first heard the news?

    I was sitting in court. I got a voice mail message from one of my coworkers on my cell phone while I was sitting in a hearing. Thinking it was an important call, I stepped outside to retrieve the message.

    As it turned out, it was an important call.

    Now the inevitable questions begin. What kind of a name is “Urban” anyway? Can anyone without a folksy nickname lead the Gators to SEC glory? When was the last time the phrases “runs the option,” and “emerging offensive genius,” appeared in the same paragraph?

  • Weekend eve

    On this weekend eve I am conflicted. There is the obvious, inherent “goodness” that surrounds the end of the workweek. It doesn’t take a minimum wage job slinging hash at the local fast-frozen-and-fried joint to appreciate a Friday. My problem lies in what hazards lay in my path to the Fair Labor Standard’s promised land. I could put a name to this hazard, but I would violate one of my employer’s most sacred rules of employee conduct: “thou shall not discuss policy and procedures in a public forum.” (Blatant Irony intended)

    Suffice it to say that I’m not looking forward to going to work tomorrow. The best thing I’ll be able to say tomorrow evening is that it’s no longer afternoon. The best thing I can say right now is that it’s not afternoon yet.