Sex, Sushi, Socializing, and a Sacrament

This weekend G and I were discussing the topics that are always on our minds: Where are we going to live? Move back to the east coast, or halfway around the world? Is there a way to avoid the cultural decay that surrounds us? Location, location, location?

SEX

Saturday evening started out well. The kids were invited for a sleepover at Nanny and Papa’s on our trip over to the east coast for our nephew’s baptism. With G commuting back and forth across the state almost daily, often the only time we're in the same place at the same time is when we finally flop into bed at the end of a long day, and usually, one of us is already asleep. We always have company. I never knew there was a term for it until I began frequenting various parenting boards, but we have a family bed apparently, and not by choice; on the island we sleep on the living room futon and in Punta Gorda the bedroom door doesn’t have a lock. Big design flaw. So, anyway, Mom and Dad got a hotel room.

SUSHI

Later, over Tuna Tataki, sashimi, and a spicy tuna roll, with a few drinks under our belts, we had almost reasoned ourselves into a return to Fort Lauderdale. We’ll all jump back into the family real estate business and reorganize so that it’s not such a hillbilly operation. With 30 years in business and a host of regular investors and projects, at least seven of us with active sales licenses, one an attorney and one a general contractor, plus two brokers, we should really be able to make things hum. G’s mom needs him, his brother needs him, their poor, overworked office manager needs me, the kids need their extended family. We can tolerate the crime, the crowds, the crappiness. Let’s do it!

SOCIALIZING

We hit our next stop, we have to maximize our free time you understand, dropping in fashionably late to a friend’s surprise birthday party. The timing was perfect, the band was cranked up, Hollywood’s Finest were on the scene waiting for the noise ordinance to take effect and make some arrests, everybody was in high spirits. It was the typical suburban horror show, insipid conversation and manifestations of mid-life crises galore. G promised to order a shipping container first thing Monday morning.

SACRAMENT

And like a bad Ronco commercial, a redundant statement perhaps, “But wait! There’s more!” Today, completely sober again, brunch with my family and my brother’s in-laws after the baptism. This would have been a better time to get loaded. G, Britcom fan that he is, determined that I am related to Hyacinth Bucket (pronounced “Bouquet” from “Keeping Up Appearances.”) I always thought my parentage might be linked to Rube Goldberg, but I think G is on to something. Mid to Low Prole.

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Is running away from a situation a bad thing? Or instead, is it moving toward a good thing?

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Another Charlie Manson White Album moment courtesy of the folks at Mental Multivitamin:

1) Researching the seven basic plots to incorporate into NaNoWriMo project

2) Replies from the (e)mailbag. Here though, in Florida, city or country, I glimpse a vast cultural wasteland. Also weighing the pros and cons of moving from very multicultural South Florida to either Australia (91.4% white) or New Zealand (73.8% white.) Does assuming there are pros make me a racist?

3) Bertrand Russell’s quote, tempered by the closing line

Thanks for making me think, guys.