Tuesday, September 06, 2005

I Will KILL You with My Feet

Labor Day - a day of rest for the weary. Yeah, RIGHT! Labor Day is a day for barbeque and beer. Be honest...come on... you know it's true!

We hit the road and arrived in Everglades City at about a quarter-after-everything-closes on Friday night. We settled in for a good night's rest, and hit the ground running on Saturday morning.

First on the itinerary was Shark Island. I don't know why they call it that - there are no sharks on Shark Island. There are, however, tons of gators. Or at least there WERE tons of gators before Katrina hit. What we discovered upon arriving was a very flooded reserve. The only signs of wildlife?

It was hot, the kids were miserable, and we quickly realized that Plan B was now in effect. The only problem is, we didn't have a Plan B. So we just drove south until we hit the Keys. We lunched in Islamorada:

I actually DID see a shark there!

Then, we kept driving South.
(That's Key West, y'all!)
My poor son saw his first cross-dresser. He is forever traumatized by a tall, leggy blonde in a thong...with VPL.

Sunday we went to Clyde Butcher's place and did the Swamp Walk. It's an annual celebration of nature, and definitely rates as one of the most fantastic things I've ever done. Clyde Butcher is our generation's Ansel Adams. Once a year he opens his home and gives guided tours of the Everglades. We mucked about in swamp water up to our chests and communed with this beautiful wetland in a very personal way. I couldn't take my Nikon into the swamp, but I did take a water proof 35mm in with me. If any of them turn out, I'll let you know where to view them. The kids had a GREAT time (real troopers, too) and my hub got to meet his idol.

Being so close to Miami, we couldn't resist the urge to take the kids to South Beach. We walked them down Ocean Drive, then over to the beach. My babies - teenagers - rolled up their pant legs, took off their shoes and socks, and played in the surf like the babies I remember them to be. The moonlight would have made for some fantastic shots - if I'd remembered to bring my camera.

Walking back, one of SoBe's famous indigents began yelling at us...well, maybe he was yelling at the persons in his head. As we approached he continued to tell us that he was going to lie down and if we "fucked him in his sleep" he would punch us in our throat...he would kill us...he would kill us with his feet. Yes - he would kill us with his feet. Thank you, resident of Miami, for my children's induction into one of its sub-cultures. You know - we try to teach our kids to be kind to those less fortunate...those society and Reagan-era policies have left without help and home. Now, whenever they see someone down and out, someone a little "odd", they may just veer the other way. Maybe not? However, I am certain that, "I'll kill you with my feet" has become part of the FunkyBug Family Lexicon.

I'm glad to be home, ready to head back to my new job... thankful to be warm and dry...thankful to have a home to come back to...thankful that I know exactly where each of my precious ones are resting their heads this evening. Because I just can't take it anymore - because the constant media barrage is enough for any of us, this is my last comment on Katrina for awhile. Keep praying for our brothers and sisters fighting to survive Katrina. Go ahead and live your life (isn't that what Bush said we should do)...but do everything within your power to help them get on with theirs as well.