There's something inexplicably wild and liberating about the warm wind that blows off any kind of tropical or near-tropical sea like the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing feels more like home to me than that wind on my skin.

The brown pelican, or rather the conspicuous lack thereof, was such a rallying point for the late 1970s/early 1980s environmental movement that I grew up around, that I still find it exceedingly odd to see one. Here they drift by in pairs, sometimes half a dozen in a tight V formation, just barely above the water.

Why is price gouging okay on islands? The market here is 2x, sometimes 3x the price the market in Apalachicola, which is only about 15 minutes away. Except beer, which is only about 10% more expensive. There are limits to the market apparently.

It's funny how when you're hand washing dishes all the sudden 1 fork, 1 knife, 1 spoon, 1 plate, 1 bowl per person is suddenly all the dishes you need. Not that you notice at first, but the fork in the drying rack is easier to grab than the one in the drawer and so. This same principle applies to many other things, notably clothing when you're washing it in guest house sinks, books when you have to carry them in your pack for months. Travel engenders a focus on necessity, make excess nearly impossible. Except for cheap beer.

Salt water and sun and cure almost anything. But not this head cold it seems. Or at least not in a week. I need another week.

Instead of sunscreen, consider shade.

I'm not sure why it's considered so outlandish that the moon could influence us in various ways. It does, if you recall, MOVE THE FUCKING OCEAN.

Expertise is over valued. You don't need to be a master carpenter to build something out of wood, you don't need to be a chef to cook a meal. Up to a point anyway. You probably do need to be a doctor to perform open heart surgery.




i learned something today, some people are scared of mold. 

I've been selling the trailer I bought a while back. We decided to go with an RV so our kids don't have to be subjected to car seats all the time. Anyway, I placed an ad, a very nice woman got in touch, she was interested. She even tried to buy this thing from the guy I bought it off. So I figure cool, you want it, I like that, I'll sell to you even though I could get more money off craigslist.
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But then she brought along a friend to check it out too. He was wearing plaid shorts and short, cuban style hat. And he was not the sort that could pull off such a thing. I've always preferred style over fashion, but hey, to each their own. That's not what got me. 

What got me was that he was so afraid of mold he wouldn't even get in the trailer. I overheard him call it a biohazard. It's fucking mold. Like the black stuff that grows on anything wet. Hate to hear what he'd make of India, Indonesia or even Florida for that matter, half the things in those places are covered in black mold. 

I'm not saying mold is good. Or that you shouldn't use precautions like a respirator when you're working with it, but christ, it's not a biohazard, it's just mold. Mold might give you a headache, in some rare cases long term exposure is bad for some people, but it's not going to kill you.

Why I am telling this story? To make fun of some hipster who caused his friend to miss out on a great deal on a great project (a few days later a woman who wasn't afraid of mold towed it away)? No, not really. Okay, maybe a little, but to me there's something deeper here than fear of mold.

The world I inhabit -- in other words this is all my own fault -- has become increasingly paranoid about the weirdest things -- mold (apparently), gluten, legumes, iron, 


I gave her my email address to send me pick when she's done.)