Ah, gentle reader: You have caught me out. The lack of posting last week was because I was on vacation in Florida. I scheduled a couple of posts, and I brought a laptop mainly to have off-site backup but also in case I wanted to write (I didn’t) and maybe post (clearly, I didn’t). I have an iPad for testing best-selling apps reading blogs and “Substacks” while away (in Safari–gramercy, how many ads you people must suffer through on a daily basis). I will recap it a bit below the fold.
So we had a week split between Orlando and Daytona Beach Shores. My beautiful wife and my oldest son spoke at MSPGeekCon in Orlando, and then we hit the beach.
Saturday: We flew out in the afternoon. If we fly Allegiant to Florida, as we did in December, the flights are very early on both sides of the flight–and they include, at least in Florida, an hour or more drive to the airport in the middle of the nights. As I have started to sleep poorly the night before early travel (and any cause for an alarm these days, really), we took a later flight. But! That means that you have almost a full day before leaving, which leaves me a bit restless as I pack early and then have time to wait.
And! When you arrive at your final destination, it is late. We got to the rental car lot at 12:30am (Sunday) local time, and we had a Nissan Rogue small SUV to accommodate the luggage for four people (on what might well be our last family vacation ever, gentle reader–pardon me whilst I weep internally for a moment, and then we will get back onto my train of thought). We loaded the luggage, but the parking spot was too tight to let the passengers in until I pulled out, so I…. was confronted by a modern shifter. Instead of the shifter with spots where Park is at the top and you move the shifter into discrete positions for the different gears, this vehicle had a non-intuitive shifter where you push the button on the side and move it forward for reverse (the shifter returns to the center position), you pull it back for drive, and you push a button on the top for park. Those are your three options, and not something I wanted to experiment with while my eyes were bleary with travel. Coupled with the fact that you cannot see the hood through the windshield and its rear collision detection stops the vehicle fairly far from things behind you (unless you turn on the “parking” mode, which I never learned how to do), it took me a long time to get the vehicle out of the tight parking spot and to get the other travelers loaded. And a thirty minute drive through the industrial part of Orlando to our resort, where we had to have the patrolling security guard check us in. The resort had a security guard walking around the property 24 hours a day–oh. And then I parked in the “sales presentation ONLY” parking because the tight lot was full on a Saturday night and I was done with that vehicle for the night.
Sunday: We went to Walmart for provisions, of course. One of the things I needed was a Panama hat, a lightweight paper or straw hat. Something to wear to the beach, and something inexpensive. I once bought a $200 Panama hat which was real nice and the straw or paper was coated with Teflon, so it lasted a couple rain storms and a couple years. On another trip, twenty-some years ago, to Singer Island, I bought a bucket hat, but the one I found atop the Arkanoid video game in my office–a hat accumulation point–had a spot of cat vomit on it, so I threw it into the washer. When it came out, it was too small for me. So either it shrank or it was a bucket hat I’d bought for a six year old over a decade ago. At any rate, I always like to pick up something in Florida. The Walmart, though, only had Ozark Trail boonie-style hats like you can buy in the actual Ozarks (and across the country).
We provisioned up and had lunch at Ichiban Buffet which was across the street from the resort. My wife and oldest had an evening event to start the conference, so the other boy and I went for a walk in search of a Panama hat. We went north from our resort along International Drive, which is a road that curves through the southern reaches of Orlando, past Universal, SeaWorld, and the convention center–in December, we stayed along its southern end, and this time (we discovered) we were near the northern terminus. The resort essentially abuts an outlet mall–our resort in December had a gate you could go through to get to its abutting outlet mall, but this resort had greenspace–perhaps a storm water retaining basin–between it and the outlet mall, so we had to go around. The outlet mall was chock full of name brand stores, but not many had hats. Next to the north was a strip mall which had bucket hats in one shop, but I was holding out for a proper hat. Just north of the strip mall was another outlet mall with basically the same stores (but no Panama hats). Across the road was a bigger outlet mall. I am not kidding. Three outlet malls in under a mile. I wonder how they can support it, but they were all fairly busy. I wonder if they survive based on the International trade–tourists who load up on things they cannot easily get at home. Something. But it’s amazing to me–here in Springfield (and from what I remember in St. Louis), outlet malls are out of the city proper a ways And no Panama hats anywhere.
The boy and I stopped at Tony’s Brazilian Grill (depicted on the map) on our way back. It serves Brazilian-themed food buffet style, with a beef carving station. The food was hot and fresh, and the place was empty but for us and another couple. Given the world as it is and how suspicious I am, whenever I’m in an empty restaurant at peak dining time with a lot of staff on hand and fresh food, I wonder if something more sinister is at play. But it might be that the Brazilians dine later. As we were leaving after only grazing at our second buffet of the day, a large group was coming in.
The resort we stayed at was at the edge of Tangelo Park, which Wikipedia informs me is majority black (69% at the 2020 census), but I would have thought it was Little Brazil. Most of the non-chain restaurants were Brazilian steak houses, and the shopping centers just across International Drive had a Brazilian bakery and a Brazilian church. Most of the foot traffic was tourists and central and south American (are Brazilians Hispanic even though their colonial ancestors were not Spanish?). There was a heavy police presence, too, which meant I felt comfortable enough walking even outside the immediate area. And, Wikipedia says, violent crime is down sharply in the last decade, so…. Good to know after the fact.
Monday: Wife and oldest had the conference. Youngest and I went west on International (it curves, remember, so we did go north on Sunday and west on Monday).
We were, again, in search of a hat. The strip mall just across the road promised a semi-outlet beach store which might have been a good bet. But it was out of business. A boot store had a selection of Stetsons, where “selection” means replicas of George Strait’s hat and another contemporary country star’s hat, Cody or Lainey, whichever one is not the girl (I think). Most were felt, and I didn’t want a country style hat (although I have been known to buy such on vacation. When I moved along the product line to the left, I saw what I thought might be paper hats in those styles, but they were plastic. And $100. So that was not the shop for us.
We hit a couple of Disney-themed gift shops on the western edge of the tourist district and then turned back. I needed a hat by Tuesday, so we were getting into desperation territory–and the heat of the day. We finally stopped in a Walgreens which had tourist schlock boonie caps and a brushy (stiff) plant-based contemporary fedora style hat (that means a narrow brim which would not protect me from the sun much at all and was not that stylish to begin with). So I got the tourist boonie for $10.
Only because the rack did not have a mirror so I could see how goofy I looked in it. My youngest son indicated such, but I thought it was just normal child making fun of the parent. Oh, my. The youngest and I, with me in my new hat, looked for somewhere to eat. As I mentioned, we had two choices: Chains or Brazilian steakhouses. The IHOP had a wait and perhaps a busload of people soaking up the service. We looked in on a pizzeria, but it was closed. We went to a Sonic, but it looked to be staffed by a single person, and, as a large family had spilled out of a van-bus ahead of us, we had not had a chance to order in, what, ten minutes? So we went to Burger King instead.
In the afternoon, I went down to the resort’s pool, where the water temperature was 87 degrees, fifteen degrees warmer than our pool has been so far this spring, and read a couple chapters in one of the only three paperbacks I brought with me. Looking goofy in my new boonie hat (I had not yet seen myself in the mirror with it). The youngest and I went to the “pizzaria” for dinner–of course, it was a Brazilian “pizzaria” (spelled that way). I had a Caprese pizza, which is like a baked Caprese salad on crust. It was okay, good for the novelty. But it was a $30 novelty. The “pizzaria” was in a strip mall which also contains a comic book shop which the boy and I also visited (on Sunday, I guess) which had a “21+” section. I went to see if it led to a room with the special anime, but it had a door to an adjoining bar. Sparing my youngest the scandalization. He, who 9 years ago, thought he would find me in the Adult section of the video store because I was an adult.
And, at about 9pm, I picked up my family from the conference where they’d had a thirteen hour day. They drove on Sunday night, but discovered parking was $40, so I dropped them and picked them up on Monday. The parking lot was less full through the week, so I had less trouble with it, but backing out on Monday morning after my wife had parked nose-in was a challenge–as I mentioned the vehicle killed reverse when I was still a ways away from vehicles behind me and I could not see the front end of the car from the driver’s seat, so I did a lot of back and forth like a fifteen year old. But the parking situation was not as bad as I thought it would be early on Sunday morning.
Although, let me say it now: When I go on vacation, I kind of prefer to park the car and walk where I am going. I find that more interesting than worrying about finding my way around unfamiliar streets (and, even though it’s my fourth trip to Orlando in the last decade and change, it’s still only now coming into focus–at least the southern reaches).
Tuesday: I dropped the wife and oldest at the conference and spent the morning lounging at the resort. The downtime included reading magazines on a screened balcony overlooking the pool and parking lot interspersed with coming in and reading magazines or blogs on the iPad in the unit. I brought a stack of Reader’s Digest magazines–about a year’s worth from 2024ish–as well as a couple of Touchstone magazines (I subscribed to it for a year, but haven’t really cottoned to it), an issue of First Things (I’ve subscribed to it for a decade or so, ever since Elizabeth “The Anchoress” Scalia wrote for them, but I’ve not kept up-to-date on them, so I’m constantly reeling back in the years when I get to them), and the latest New Oxford Review (which I keep up on, so I can read the Letters section and know what they’re talking about). I read all of the Reader’s Digest, my first completed Touchstones, and the New Oxford Review. Taking magazines on a flying vacation is nice because the load is lighter when returning.
At any rate, I needed the hat by Tuesday because our big adventure for the day was walking to the convention center to see my wife and oldest speak. They had the last slot at the convention, 4pm, so I dropped them at the facility and then instead of driving down and parking, the youngest and I walked it. For some reason, I thought it was only three miles, projected at an hour’s travel time. We left plenty early, planning to stop for an ice cream or coffee on the way. The walk was basically in three segments: The Universal-adjacent tourist district; a more residential segment where the second language changed from Portuguese to Spanish; and then the convention center district where the tree-lined portion of International Drive changed to hotels around the Orange County Convention Center and the various Rosen-badged properties, including the Rosen Centre where our conference was held. We didn’t stop for ice cream, but we did stop for a round of miniature golf (at a chain miniature golf course). And then we hastened to the hotel where the conference was held because it was not three miles from our resort–it was four and a half miles away, so we got there with only twenty minutes to talk our way into the conference and to hit the water fountain a couple of times.
After their talk, we took a rideshare back, cleaned up, and dined at Delmonico’s. We’ve eaten there three times, and we’ve been pleased each time. The rest of the evening was lounging and finishing off our provisions because….
Wednesday: We checked out of our unit in Orlando and drove to Daytona Beach Shores (different from Daytona Beach itself). Along the way, we stopped outside a local attraction for which I’d done some work last year so I could get my photo in front of it. We stopped for lunch at a local restaurant–which has Tuna in the name, but the seafood offerings were scant on menus our whole trip, which is odd–I seem to remember having fresh seafood all the time in Florida, maybe that was my trip to Sanibel and Marco Islands in 2016.
As you might know, but maybe not (I did not, although I’ve been to Daytona Beach Shores for the day back on one of our Orlando trips–2014?–I didn’t study the map until I visited this time), Daytona Beach is on the west bank of the Halifax River; Daytona Beach Shores is on the peninsula on the east bank along with a number of other towns (Ponce Inlet, Ormand-By-The Sea). The east coast of Florida, as I’ve seen it, is like a big metroplex where these communities blend into one another without gap. The peninsula has a couple of north and south roads and a number of east-west roads and a couple of causeways/bridges. The main road is Atlantic Avenue, and it was under construction right in front of our resorts.
I say “resorts” because we booked a separate location for my oldest (20 this year) because he had to work, which means training for his new job via video calls. So it was a trial run for when he leaves us–and I am pretty sure it stoked him for the prospect.
We stopped by Publix, the Florida grocery chain, to provision, and, of course, they had a paper hat. Although, I see now that I’ve entered the receipt into Quicken that it’s labeled as a Ladies Resort Hat. Ai! I hope it’s not obvious to everyone but me that I am cross-dressing. It is made of paper and 15% polyester (presumably the band), so it will likely only last the year. But it was only $12. Not $200.
We unpacked, dropped the oldest at his resort about a mile down the road from our primary base of operations, and then the youngest and I hit the beach.
We hit the water and let the waves hit us for a while–I guess that’s what you do. The boy freshly adult male jumped into the waves; I tried a variety of martial arts kicks in the water to test my balance (after a front kick, I got knocked ass over teakettle). When I jumped into the waves, one time the wave sucked off one of my water shoes, and I could not find it. After about thirty minutes of getting knocked around by the waves, I was done, and so we came out of the water to discover we had been buffetted several hundred yards and several buildings north of our resort. I walked barefoot on the beach back to our resort and deposited the remaining water shoe in the trash.
The oldest stopped by, and the boys offspring men went for a walk and for dinner whilst we relaxed in the room.
We had a great view of the ocean, of course. Everyone on the east side of Atlantic Avenue does.
We were on the second floor, which meant while I was out there reading, I could make awkward eye contact with everyone on the resort patio and pool.
Thursday: Even though I’d said I would park the car and be done with it, of course we took the opportunity to visit used book stores in the Daytona area. We started with Connie’s Books, which is a little nook on Moore Avenue just off of Atlantic Avenue. I’d thought we could walk to it, but it was several miles up the road from where we were staying. My wife got a couple of books, but all I got was a card, surreptitiously–Connie also does “diamond painting” which is gluing little gemstones to pictures, and I needed a card for our upcoming anniversary. So whilst my wife browsed, I conducted a quick and not as quiet as I’d preferred cash transaction.
We stopped on Daytona Beach’s Beach Street to visit Abraxas Books, but it was not open at 11:15 even though its stated opening time was 11:00. We walked up Beach Street a bit, looking for a restaurant, and stepped into the little metaphysical shop (crystals and chakras) which I’d dismissed as a destination, but it did have a couple of rooms of $1 used books, so we stopped in. I also looked for a wunjo rune pendant, but none were obvious. I did pick up two books which I’ll show here to spare you a whole Good Book Hunting post:
I got Jimmy Stewart and His Poems by Jimmy Stewart and Blue Dog Christmas by George Rodrigue, the artist who did the Blue Dog paintings (as I mentioned when talking about him in 2012). An apocryphal memory–that is, I think I remember indicates that, when I traveled to New Orleans in 1994, I told my travel companion about the Blue Dog paintings, and then we found Rodrigue’s gallery in the French Quarter by surprise–which probably means I’d read about him in The New Yorker or Harper’s or The Atlantic Monthly, all of which I subscribed to in those days, and probably didn’t quite remember he was New Orleans based but must have subconsciously to have brought him up on the trip thirty years ago. Did that happen? I think so, but it was before the blog, so basically it’s pre-history. I told both my wife and one of the clerks the story (when she, the clerk, mentioned he was based in New Orleans).
At any rate, a short Christmas book–watch for a book report on it this December.
So we then went to Abraxas books, which was old school. A rickety establishment with stacks of books on the floor, no air conditioning, and makeshift bookshelves and floors which threatened to give way every step or browse. Books were not priced–ask the proprietor, the signs said, and the greybeard behind a ramshackle desk between the bookshelves and between the fans offered assistance–but if you have to ask the price, it’s probably too expensive. So we didn’t get anything there.
Not found: A book about the history of Orlando, central Florida, or the Daytona Beach area.
At any rate, my wife and I then had lunch at a Greek pizzeria and stopped by Publix for another pair of water shoes, my second such purchase in a week. Which helped when my wife, my youngest, and I hit the beach again briefly. I think I lasted a little under another thirty minutes before retiring to the deck to try to work on a poem (not the estate sale poem I mentioned, a different one, although I have determined that the estate sale poem is not quite finished).
The youngest went down the beach/road to visit his brother in the evening, and I read.
Friday: My wife and I went for a sunrise walk on the beach. Which is a romantic ideal in some quarters, but we take fairly long walks in parks fairly regularly, so it was kind of like that, but in water shoes instead of tennis shoes. We both agreed that it would have been better barefoot (ibid.).
The oldest came over between calls, and it took on a weird visit home vibe. We had nothing really interesting to report from either unit, and he did not have time, really, to hit the beach, so after a bit of awkward near-boredom, the three males walked him back to his unit, and then the youngest and I played another round of miniature golf from a different branch of the same chain. My wife wanted to hit the beach again, but the boy fully grown offspring and I were feeling the effects of the sun–he was burned, and I felt the tingling and tightness in the skin that indicates although I did not have a true burn, I should probably spend the rest of the time in the shade. She settled for some time on the patio with me.
We had an early dinner–an anniversary dinner–with the three of us enjoying an Italian restaurant directly across Atlantic Avenue from the resort, and we retired to reading and consuming the remainder of our provisions.
Saturday: Another afternoon flight, but we did not have late checkouts, so we checked out of our resorts, drove an alternate way to Orlando, and spent the afternoon and evenings in airports and on planes, returning to Springfield.
And we’re back: Ah, back home. We were all ready to return. Beach vacations are not my thing; I can spend an hour or so in the water and on the beach, but I like to see shops, book stores, and walk around (as I mentioned).
It was a good break, but when we got back, not only was my list of chores on my app (Goal-Task-Chore, available on the Apple App Store and the Microsoft Store) blaring red at me because I did not do any chores over the week (feature request: How about a pause for vacations option?), but, as in 2021, we have some additional things to tend to:
- The garage door, again. One spring snapped on Thursday morning before we left, and we couldn’t get someone out to fix it before we left. And jerking around with the release and the shuttle to open the door to get the vehicle out and then closing it, we pulled the rail that holds the chain and shuttle out of the wall a bit. So we’ve got to get some bids on it this week.
- The pool seems to be losing water. Although it rained the week we were gone, it’s only about where it was when we left. Uh oh. It’s either the new(ish) liner…. or something more sinister.
- And it’s back onto the job hunt train. While I was gone, I got three No buttons, including one from a local company where I got an actual screening interview–but the screener was located in Kentucky and had previously worked for Amazon and a lot of larger companies, so I did not discount the possibility that I was being looked at to follow protocol for proving nobody but an H1B can do this job. So, yeah, back to being sorrow on the state of the tech industry and my role not in it.
And back to…. Whatever it is I do around here when I’m not taking a break from it. On the other hand, I will know what day it is, probably.
