LauderBlog
Sept 30: After the Rain
Posted On: September 30, 2008 8:36 AM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
One of my all-time favorite jazz performers and composers is John Coltrane. I began my love of jazz as a teenager by listening to Coltrane and Miles Davis, who I still regard as two of the most innovative, finest jazz musicians in history. I mention this because Coltrane wrote a great tune called, “After the Rain.” It’s a gentle flowing piece, drifting along like those times after a storm when you hear the dripping raindrops off the roof and the trickle of water flowing along the street. I was thinking about all this today while looking out the window – after a rain. Our otherwise sunny weekend was interrupted Sunday night by one of those wonderful South Florida storms. Like so many of the rains in this part of the country, it was intense. Now, on Monday morning as I write this blog, we’re getting a bit more precipitation off and on. Mostly, though, it feels like a prolonged after-the-rain moment.
Late Sunday afternoon, the sky clouded up heavily and then all those clouds slowly darkened until the first roll of thunder sounded. I was in my convertible, top down of course. I kept whipping along the highway as the rain began to fall – mostly because I’ve learned that if you drive fast enough, you can stay dry. I’m not sure a cop would buy that argument but it’s true.
I pulled up to a stoplight, raised my convertible top and windows, and was nearly home just as the storm erupted. Sometimes these tropical rains fall so hard that you literally can’t see the road in front of you. That’s how this was. I was half-soaked running four steps from my car to my condo. Inside, I watched as the rain pelted loudly against the windows and flooded the patio, a fierce burst of water that made me thankful to be drying off indoors. Then suddenly, the storm stopped. And what I saw and heard outside seemed gentle again, like Coltrane’s song. Pools of water in the drive were swirling toward the drains, large drops rhythmically fell on to window sills, the palm fronds glistened, the manmade pond in my condo’s backyard was still. What had felt so forbidding and inhospitable just seconds before, now appeared clean and fresh and welcoming. All of South Florida’s lush greenery needs these heavy rains, of course, to stay as lush and green as they are. But sometimes people need the rains too. I know I do, at least partly to savor those times after the rains have gone.
Late Sunday afternoon, the sky clouded up heavily and then all those clouds slowly darkened until the first roll of thunder sounded. I was in my convertible, top down of course. I kept whipping along the highway as the rain began to fall – mostly because I’ve learned that if you drive fast enough, you can stay dry. I’m not sure a cop would buy that argument but it’s true.
I pulled up to a stoplight, raised my convertible top and windows, and was nearly home just as the storm erupted. Sometimes these tropical rains fall so hard that you literally can’t see the road in front of you. That’s how this was. I was half-soaked running four steps from my car to my condo. Inside, I watched as the rain pelted loudly against the windows and flooded the patio, a fierce burst of water that made me thankful to be drying off indoors. Then suddenly, the storm stopped. And what I saw and heard outside seemed gentle again, like Coltrane’s song. Pools of water in the drive were swirling toward the drains, large drops rhythmically fell on to window sills, the palm fronds glistened, the manmade pond in my condo’s backyard was still. What had felt so forbidding and inhospitable just seconds before, now appeared clean and fresh and welcoming. All of South Florida’s lush greenery needs these heavy rains, of course, to stay as lush and green as they are. But sometimes people need the rains too. I know I do, at least partly to savor those times after the rains have gone.
RSSSept 25: Dining In, Dining Out
Posted On: September 25, 2008 11:53 AM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
I love dining out. I love dining in. Actually, I love to eat. I hope I don’t look like it, but I really do enjoy the chance to savor a wonderful meal – especially if I’m with a friend and even more especially if I’m not doing the cooking. Hey, I’m easy. Make me a terrific dinner and I’m yours. But given a choice between eating out and eating in, I’ll almost always take the restaurant option. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt that restaurant dining is among life’s real pleasures. These days, I’m not doing that as often as I like. When I was married, and not running a nonprofit group without pay, my former wife and I would hit some café or pub or bistro at least two or three times a week. Perhaps some day I’ll be able to do that again.
But for the moment, life is busy and rewarding. And fairly tightly budgeted much of the time. That’s why I’m glad to see that the Dine Out Lauderdale promotion is back this year. From October 1 through November 14, I can take some great meals at some great restaurants that I usually can’t quite afford just now.
Last October, for instance, I went to the excellent Cero Restaurant, which sits seafront at the Ritz-Carlton, Fort Lauderdale. We had a terrific dinner for two, from appetizers to dessert, for $70 plus tax and tip. That’s the deal with Dine Out Lauderdale. The dinners are $35 fixed price, same as last year. Considering some of the restaurants taking part in this promotion, that seems a real bargain. How about dinner for $35 at Trina at the Atlantic? Or at Chima Brazilian Steakhouse or By Word of Mouth? Or at Café Maxx or Armadillo Beach or Aizia? The list goes on but you get the point. Even better, if you can swing the time and money, the hotels attached to some of these restaurants are offering “Dine Out, Sleep In” packages at great rates. At the very least, I plan to get to one of the participating restaurants, lingering over a high-end meal at a price I can afford. I’m not sure yet which place I’ll end up at this year. But I can’t wait.
But for the moment, life is busy and rewarding. And fairly tightly budgeted much of the time. That’s why I’m glad to see that the Dine Out Lauderdale promotion is back this year. From October 1 through November 14, I can take some great meals at some great restaurants that I usually can’t quite afford just now.
Last October, for instance, I went to the excellent Cero Restaurant, which sits seafront at the Ritz-Carlton, Fort Lauderdale. We had a terrific dinner for two, from appetizers to dessert, for $70 plus tax and tip. That’s the deal with Dine Out Lauderdale. The dinners are $35 fixed price, same as last year. Considering some of the restaurants taking part in this promotion, that seems a real bargain. How about dinner for $35 at Trina at the Atlantic? Or at Chima Brazilian Steakhouse or By Word of Mouth? Or at Café Maxx or Armadillo Beach or Aizia? The list goes on but you get the point. Even better, if you can swing the time and money, the hotels attached to some of these restaurants are offering “Dine Out, Sleep In” packages at great rates. At the very least, I plan to get to one of the participating restaurants, lingering over a high-end meal at a price I can afford. I’m not sure yet which place I’ll end up at this year. But I can’t wait.
Sept 24: Early, Early Morning
Posted On: September 24, 2008 12:05 PM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
It’s exactly 6:21 a.m. as I begin to write this blog. I’m surprised to be sitting here at my desk. But my actress girlfriend had a very early call for a commercial this morning, so I got up to hand her coffee and see her off. And I thought, What the heck – why not get an early start on my week? Besides, I’ve been wanting to catch my newspaper delivery person’s act. When you live in the right kind of South Florida condo, only a few floors with exterior walkways, these news carriers just heave the daily paper to your door. Yep, they actually fling the sucker three or four floors without breaking windows or sending it to your neighbor’s place. I’ve often heard my newspaper land with a thwunk but had yet to see the big toss. I stood around outside for a while waiting for the delivery guy and noticed how fresh the air felt. Then I looked up.
The early morning sky was unexpected. Despite the lights all around my large condo complex, despite the urban light haze in the distance, I could see maybe 20 clear stars off in one small section of the sky that was visible from my third floor walkway. One very distinct star dominated, perhaps it was a planet, but the others surrounded it in soft pinpoints.
No one else was around. I didn’t even see lights in any windows yet. There was no hint of sunrise in the eastern sky. That’s when I thought about how odd the South Florida landscape appears to me at this time of day. In the past, I usually had observed these early, early hours from a different vantage point – after a long night out playing rather than before a long day in working. But the effect on me seems much the same. Palm trees and bougainvillea and hibiscus feel almost lost in the pre-dawn isolation. To me, anyway, it’s as if the tropical environment requires light to come alive. It can be the intense, relentless sunlight of a typical South Florida day or the cool, dreamy moonlight of a languorous South Florida evening. Either way, there’s an exotic romance to this area but only when bathed in a wash of light. For the moment, though, the light was still half an hour or more away. But I did finally see my newspaper carrier make that heave, just a quick flick of the wrist. He made it look easy. I poured some coffee for myself and sat down at my desk, opening the blinds to watch for the first suggestion of daylight.
The early morning sky was unexpected. Despite the lights all around my large condo complex, despite the urban light haze in the distance, I could see maybe 20 clear stars off in one small section of the sky that was visible from my third floor walkway. One very distinct star dominated, perhaps it was a planet, but the others surrounded it in soft pinpoints.
No one else was around. I didn’t even see lights in any windows yet. There was no hint of sunrise in the eastern sky. That’s when I thought about how odd the South Florida landscape appears to me at this time of day. In the past, I usually had observed these early, early hours from a different vantage point – after a long night out playing rather than before a long day in working. But the effect on me seems much the same. Palm trees and bougainvillea and hibiscus feel almost lost in the pre-dawn isolation. To me, anyway, it’s as if the tropical environment requires light to come alive. It can be the intense, relentless sunlight of a typical South Florida day or the cool, dreamy moonlight of a languorous South Florida evening. Either way, there’s an exotic romance to this area but only when bathed in a wash of light. For the moment, though, the light was still half an hour or more away. But I did finally see my newspaper carrier make that heave, just a quick flick of the wrist. He made it look easy. I poured some coffee for myself and sat down at my desk, opening the blinds to watch for the first suggestion of daylight.
Sept 18: Still in the Pool
Posted On: September 18, 2008 3:35 PM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
I’ve been bathing in my swimming pool for the past day. That is because of a problem at my condo building, a 40-year-old buried pipe that suddenly decided it had carried water long enough. This is one of those small, frustrating moments in life that remind us to appreciate what we have. Modern plumbing is definitely a wonderful invention. I discovered my building’s water outage when I turned on the shower and got one of those sickening gurgles from the tap. I waited around all afternoon. Still nothing. So by early evening, when it was clear this water main wouldn’t be fixed quickly, I decided to head to our condo’s swimming pool. At least that was still working. For some odd reason, I was expecting the water to be on the coolish side. Ok, “coolish” by our wussy South Florida standards. Like, maybe, something below 85 degrees. You know, coolish.
I was prepared to let out a brrrrrrr. But when I took that first step into the water … hey, very nice. It’s still warm. Really, what was I thinking anyway? The air temperature has been pretty much hovering around 90 in the afternoon. Not exactly a cold front. And not exactly the kind of weather that chills off a pool.
But in 2007, as I recall, I was finished with swimming for the year at about this time. After all, it is closing in on the end of September. I remember writing a blog about how differently locals and visitors feel when it comes to water temperatures. A January ocean that seems like tropical bathwater to a Canadian tourist seems instead like a cold shower to us. We’ll go sit by the pool or sunbathe by the sea in the fall and winter. But most of us wait until coolish water turns back to hottish water before we dip in our sensitive toes. Well, anyway, all this to say that I had a lovely swim on this almost-autumn South Florida evening. The clouds were gorgeous and the air was pleasantly warm and the water felt just about perfect. Summer is hanging on a little longer this year than last, I think. I’ve noticed a few early signs of Florida fall weather lately. Not much yet, though. It will come soon enough but, for now, I’m just as glad to have a little lingering heat. All I know is, the backhoe is still at my condo building, digging away. And as a true transplanted South Floridian, I’d rather not endure any coolish baths, thank you.
I was prepared to let out a brrrrrrr. But when I took that first step into the water … hey, very nice. It’s still warm. Really, what was I thinking anyway? The air temperature has been pretty much hovering around 90 in the afternoon. Not exactly a cold front. And not exactly the kind of weather that chills off a pool.
But in 2007, as I recall, I was finished with swimming for the year at about this time. After all, it is closing in on the end of September. I remember writing a blog about how differently locals and visitors feel when it comes to water temperatures. A January ocean that seems like tropical bathwater to a Canadian tourist seems instead like a cold shower to us. We’ll go sit by the pool or sunbathe by the sea in the fall and winter. But most of us wait until coolish water turns back to hottish water before we dip in our sensitive toes. Well, anyway, all this to say that I had a lovely swim on this almost-autumn South Florida evening. The clouds were gorgeous and the air was pleasantly warm and the water felt just about perfect. Summer is hanging on a little longer this year than last, I think. I’ve noticed a few early signs of Florida fall weather lately. Not much yet, though. It will come soon enough but, for now, I’m just as glad to have a little lingering heat. All I know is, the backhoe is still at my condo building, digging away. And as a true transplanted South Floridian, I’d rather not endure any coolish baths, thank you.
Sept 16: Something Fishy
Posted On: September 16, 2008 5:29 PM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
Like most people, I suppose, I’ve always been fascinated by fish. How many of us can pass by any half-decent aquarium without at least taking a long good look at what’s paddling around inside it? Fish grab and hold our attention, much the way the dancing flames of a fireplace are impossible to ignore. I was born in Michigan, the Great Lake State, so there was certainly no shortage of freshwater fish in my part of the world. But of course that doesn’t mean I actually saw live fish very often. Unless I happened past one of those aquariums. It’s different here in South Florida. Fish seem to be everywhere. That’s especially true in Fort Lauderdale, a city with many more miles of canals than Venice, Italy.
I was reminded of this on Sunday when a friend and I went to Southport Raw Bar for a beer and some conch chowder. Southport sits on the 15th Street canal, which is the deepest canal in Fort Lauderdale. I used to live right on the water there and it was great, with all kinds of fish from small minnows to huge tarpon swimming by all the time.
On Sunday, the fish were really out in force, with schools of them stirring up the surface of the water as they fed. They created a shimmering effect, as if the wind were blowing across first one small patch of the canal, then another. I’m not sure what species of fish these were. But they moved together to form shapes – swirling into an oval, fanning out into a broad line, bunching together again into a circle. Their activity was so noticeable for so long that the fish began to attract an audience. We were among the folks who actually went down to the dock to watch. I have no idea how many fish were feeding but there were a lot. Some were very small, no larger than my baby finger. Others were the length of my hand. I kept expecting something much larger, maybe one of those tarpon, to come along for an easy meal. That didn’t happen and so, when we left, the fishy school was still going through its gyrations, still splashing through a mini feeding frenzy. We enjoyed being there to see it happen. This was a very Fort Lauderdale sight, really, a small moment connecting the creatures that live below the water with the creatures that walk around beside the water. To me, that’s part of this area’s charm. Despite the condos and hi-rises, the sidewalks and roads, nature is all around us here – if we’ll only take a moment to walk down and look for it.
I was reminded of this on Sunday when a friend and I went to Southport Raw Bar for a beer and some conch chowder. Southport sits on the 15th Street canal, which is the deepest canal in Fort Lauderdale. I used to live right on the water there and it was great, with all kinds of fish from small minnows to huge tarpon swimming by all the time.
On Sunday, the fish were really out in force, with schools of them stirring up the surface of the water as they fed. They created a shimmering effect, as if the wind were blowing across first one small patch of the canal, then another. I’m not sure what species of fish these were. But they moved together to form shapes – swirling into an oval, fanning out into a broad line, bunching together again into a circle. Their activity was so noticeable for so long that the fish began to attract an audience. We were among the folks who actually went down to the dock to watch. I have no idea how many fish were feeding but there were a lot. Some were very small, no larger than my baby finger. Others were the length of my hand. I kept expecting something much larger, maybe one of those tarpon, to come along for an easy meal. That didn’t happen and so, when we left, the fishy school was still going through its gyrations, still splashing through a mini feeding frenzy. We enjoyed being there to see it happen. This was a very Fort Lauderdale sight, really, a small moment connecting the creatures that live below the water with the creatures that walk around beside the water. To me, that’s part of this area’s charm. Despite the condos and hi-rises, the sidewalks and roads, nature is all around us here – if we’ll only take a moment to walk down and look for it.
Sept 12: Ahhhh...
Posted On: September 12, 2008 9:57 AM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
Sometimes I let myself get a little too stressed out. It’s no big deal, really. But I can get so focused on writing a new book or play or working on some other demanding project that I start winding up tighter and tighter. I can feel it happening. Until I take time to relax. Then I’m fine again. That tightening process has been going on lately because my nonprofit group, The Humanity Project, is organizing and leading our first major public event. We’re putting together something called the Thousand Youth March for Humanity, which will feature more than 1,000 students, grades K – 12, marching in the Fort Lauderdale streets on November 16 to call for an end to school bullying. Nothing like this has been done before in South Florida or, to our knowledge, anywhere in the country. We think it’ll be a big deal, with lots of media and even some celebrities. I’m in charge of it all so, well, maybe you can see why I’ve felt a little stressed. Just looking for sponsors to put up the money for this event is stressful enough.
Of course, that’s no good excuse. But oh, how a nice day of relaxation would help. Nothing to do but kick back and take it easy. Just one full afternoon of ease, no calls and emails, no thinking and planning. It sounds great.
So I was especially interested in the Lauderdale Spa Chic promotion that’s going on this month. Through the end of September, those of us who need some R&R can pick from around a dozen spas spread through greater Fort Lauderdale. For $99, these oases of relaxation offer aromatherapy, massage, skin care and more. One of the spas says something about using chocolate, though I think they mean the scent, not the food. Hey, it all is appealing to me right about now. Some of these places even feature spa treatments and hotel stays in one package deal. Wow. All I can say is, I’m ready. Pack me off for a massage and a hot tub soak, give me a martini and let me dissolve into a puddle of relaxed goo. Unfortunately, that may not happen any time soon and certainly not today. I’m watching the clock, thinking of the calls and emails and planning I have yet to finish, then I’m off for a 4 p.m. meeting downtown. I may yet make it to one of these spas this month, if I’m lucky. If you get there ahead of me, though, shoot me a comment and tell me how it was. Because if I don't find the chance to enjoy a spa treatment in person, I at least can savor some destressing through you.
Of course, that’s no good excuse. But oh, how a nice day of relaxation would help. Nothing to do but kick back and take it easy. Just one full afternoon of ease, no calls and emails, no thinking and planning. It sounds great.
So I was especially interested in the Lauderdale Spa Chic promotion that’s going on this month. Through the end of September, those of us who need some R&R can pick from around a dozen spas spread through greater Fort Lauderdale. For $99, these oases of relaxation offer aromatherapy, massage, skin care and more. One of the spas says something about using chocolate, though I think they mean the scent, not the food. Hey, it all is appealing to me right about now. Some of these places even feature spa treatments and hotel stays in one package deal. Wow. All I can say is, I’m ready. Pack me off for a massage and a hot tub soak, give me a martini and let me dissolve into a puddle of relaxed goo. Unfortunately, that may not happen any time soon and certainly not today. I’m watching the clock, thinking of the calls and emails and planning I have yet to finish, then I’m off for a 4 p.m. meeting downtown. I may yet make it to one of these spas this month, if I’m lucky. If you get there ahead of me, though, shoot me a comment and tell me how it was. Because if I don't find the chance to enjoy a spa treatment in person, I at least can savor some destressing through you.
Sept 9: Green Sea
Posted On: September 9, 2008 8:47 AM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
When I was 22, I wrote a short radio play about the sea. Actually, that was its title: The Sea. This was a very avant-garde kind of thing, though I re-read it not long ago and still liked the writing. I created the play when I was living in San Francisco and it actually was performed on the University of California, Berkeley radio station. I mention all of this because I was reminded of my youthful dramatic piece Monday morning as I sat beside the ocean. To me, the sea is a metaphor for human emotion. That’s what my play was about. The layers of current, the clash of movement, the range of mood, all of this fascinates me and seems to reflect what I experience within myself. Monday was one of those times when the metaphor jumped out at me again while I watched a frothing green sea reflect the bright sunlight.
Not that I felt particularly frothy on that morning, mind you. Or green for that matter. No, it’s not that my mood at the moment necessarily matches what I see in the ocean. It’s that what I see in the ocean seems to match a mood I have felt at times.
The whole scene was washed in a piercing light. I had to shield my eyes from the sun as I looked at the water. A sharp wind was gusting from the east, whipping up line after line of waves that rolled in toward the sand. As far out as I could see, the waves rose from the surface and advanced in orderly rows of whitecaps until they neared the shore, where they seemed to rise higher and advance faster before dissolving into a foam of bubbles. But more than anything, I think, the play of color and light affected me. The ocean appeared an unusual green, pale as a first springtime leaf and unmixed with any blue or gray that I could detect. The subtlety of that shade was striking on such a roiling ocean, streaked in white waves and illuminated by blinding sunshine. It seemed an emotional sea indeed, passionate and turbulent though somehow welcoming too. This was still early in the day but I noticed a swimmer and a surfer in the water under a lifeguard’s watch. I knew that others would come out soon to sit beside the Atlantic and observe, as I was, or to sun themselves and read and just enjoy the beach. It was a nice day for that. The sea was very much alive – and it had reminded me that I was too.
Not that I felt particularly frothy on that morning, mind you. Or green for that matter. No, it’s not that my mood at the moment necessarily matches what I see in the ocean. It’s that what I see in the ocean seems to match a mood I have felt at times.
The whole scene was washed in a piercing light. I had to shield my eyes from the sun as I looked at the water. A sharp wind was gusting from the east, whipping up line after line of waves that rolled in toward the sand. As far out as I could see, the waves rose from the surface and advanced in orderly rows of whitecaps until they neared the shore, where they seemed to rise higher and advance faster before dissolving into a foam of bubbles. But more than anything, I think, the play of color and light affected me. The ocean appeared an unusual green, pale as a first springtime leaf and unmixed with any blue or gray that I could detect. The subtlety of that shade was striking on such a roiling ocean, streaked in white waves and illuminated by blinding sunshine. It seemed an emotional sea indeed, passionate and turbulent though somehow welcoming too. This was still early in the day but I noticed a swimmer and a surfer in the water under a lifeguard’s watch. I knew that others would come out soon to sit beside the Atlantic and observe, as I was, or to sun themselves and read and just enjoy the beach. It was a nice day for that. The sea was very much alive – and it had reminded me that I was too.
Sept 8: Pizza, Beach-Style
Posted On: September 8, 2008 11:57 AM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
In the past, I’ve had trouble finding good pizza on the Fort Lauderdale beach. There are a number of very good beachfront restaurants, of course, and I admit that I haven’t done any sort of serious sampling. I’m sure some of these places have excellent pizza to offer. But I’m talking about a pizza place where you’re more likely to take out than order in. And I mean very good take-out pizza, not just the usual dough and cheese and tomato sauce thing. Well, on our recent “staycation” at both the Marriot and the Ritz along A1A, we found just what I had been looking for. At last. It’s called “Beach Pizza,” appropriately enough. I’d walked right past it many times without ever stopping. I was glad Gwendolyn and I discovered it during this trip.
Beach Pizza is a nondescript little hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Very small, very few seats. The only reason I noticed it at all was that, as we strolled our way toward the Jungle Queen one afternoon, I saw two well-dressed businessmen inside waiting for their order. I took that as an indication that local employees frequent Beach Pizza – a good sign. I also learned that this spot has been voted “Broward’s Best Pizza” in one of those local newspaper reader polls.
We ordered a small pie with mushrooms, onions, olives and whatever else. The guy behind the counter, who also whipped up our order, was chatty and friendly and there was some good chill music coming from the speakers. Hanging out waiting for the pizza was fun, actually, with a parade of beachgoers wandering past the window. But the pizza? Mmmm, excellent! After we got the hot box back to our room, we sat on the patio overlooking the sea and gobbled. It wasn’t just that we were hungry. This really was very tasty pizza. A thin crust, just enough quality sauce and cheese, good ingredients for toppings. And cooked perfectly. Later in the week, we went back a second time. That should tell you something. You want to know what else? Before long, I plan to make a special trip just to get another round of Beach Pizza, which is only a few miles from my condo. It was that good. On the beach, pizza sometimes is exactly what you want for lunch or dinner, isn’t it? I think so anyway. Now I know where to find it – and so do you.
Beach Pizza is a nondescript little hole-in-the-wall kind of place. Very small, very few seats. The only reason I noticed it at all was that, as we strolled our way toward the Jungle Queen one afternoon, I saw two well-dressed businessmen inside waiting for their order. I took that as an indication that local employees frequent Beach Pizza – a good sign. I also learned that this spot has been voted “Broward’s Best Pizza” in one of those local newspaper reader polls.
We ordered a small pie with mushrooms, onions, olives and whatever else. The guy behind the counter, who also whipped up our order, was chatty and friendly and there was some good chill music coming from the speakers. Hanging out waiting for the pizza was fun, actually, with a parade of beachgoers wandering past the window. But the pizza? Mmmm, excellent! After we got the hot box back to our room, we sat on the patio overlooking the sea and gobbled. It wasn’t just that we were hungry. This really was very tasty pizza. A thin crust, just enough quality sauce and cheese, good ingredients for toppings. And cooked perfectly. Later in the week, we went back a second time. That should tell you something. You want to know what else? Before long, I plan to make a special trip just to get another round of Beach Pizza, which is only a few miles from my condo. It was that good. On the beach, pizza sometimes is exactly what you want for lunch or dinner, isn’t it? I think so anyway. Now I know where to find it – and so do you.
Sept 2: Happy Our
Posted On: September 2, 2008 3:54 PM
Posted By: LauderBLOGGER
Related Subjects: Greater Fort Lauderdale
I’ve always been a big fan of happy hours. Not to get falling down, stupid drunk. But to lighten up and savor life a bit at the end of a good day’s work. It seems a time to reward ourselves, and to connect with folks whose company we enjoy. It’s really not so much about getting tipsy just for me, as it is about tippling a bit for us. Happy hours can build friendships, solidify working relationships, allow people to bond outside the usual place and time. And, hey, they’re just fun. At least that’s way I see it. Viewed like this, it really is “our” time to get “happy” together. Happy Our. Ha!
I’m going into all of this for a reason. Because I don’t go to happy hours anymore the way I used to. When I worked in newsrooms for 11 years, Friday night happy hours were the norm. Sometimes we’d all meet on weeknights too. Now that I write alone at home, these have become fairly rare events for me. I usually seem to hook up with friends for dinner rather than cocktails, mostly due to scheduling issues.
On Friday, though, a buddy asked me to join him and a couple other friends after work. Andrew suggested the 15th Street Fisheries, a spot I know well from having lived near there for several years. When we arrived, a decent enough little band was banging out some oldies and the outside deck overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway was packed. We ordered a couple of beers and chatted and ran into some other folks we knew and just did the usual happy hour kind of thing. Although it was a warm night, the breeze wavered in from the water often. Andrew and I shared some calamari, then had dinner and another beer while waiting for his friends to show. The tunes of Neil Young and Bob Dylan and the other usual Boomers were flowing from one side of us and the seabreezes were flowing from the other and when Susana and Jessica showed up, they added their own fresh energy and enthusiasm to the mix. We didn’t leave until nearly 10:30 but I relished every minute of it. This was doing a happy hour the way I always did them in those newsroom years. To top it all off, Andrew insisted on picking up everyone’s tab. Next time, it’s on me – and you know what? I can’t wait.
I’m going into all of this for a reason. Because I don’t go to happy hours anymore the way I used to. When I worked in newsrooms for 11 years, Friday night happy hours were the norm. Sometimes we’d all meet on weeknights too. Now that I write alone at home, these have become fairly rare events for me. I usually seem to hook up with friends for dinner rather than cocktails, mostly due to scheduling issues.
On Friday, though, a buddy asked me to join him and a couple other friends after work. Andrew suggested the 15th Street Fisheries, a spot I know well from having lived near there for several years. When we arrived, a decent enough little band was banging out some oldies and the outside deck overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway was packed. We ordered a couple of beers and chatted and ran into some other folks we knew and just did the usual happy hour kind of thing. Although it was a warm night, the breeze wavered in from the water often. Andrew and I shared some calamari, then had dinner and another beer while waiting for his friends to show. The tunes of Neil Young and Bob Dylan and the other usual Boomers were flowing from one side of us and the seabreezes were flowing from the other and when Susana and Jessica showed up, they added their own fresh energy and enthusiasm to the mix. We didn’t leave until nearly 10:30 but I relished every minute of it. This was doing a happy hour the way I always did them in those newsroom years. To top it all off, Andrew insisted on picking up everyone’s tab. Next time, it’s on me – and you know what? I can’t wait.
