The Winter of '79

The Bar at Blue Heaven, a great place for breakfast

Today in aerobics class, the Village People's "YMCA" played, a high-energy song that always brings back memories.  In the winters of 1977-78 Chicago recorded "coldest winter" and "winter of most snow."  Now if  you live in the Chicago area, winter weather records are no joke.

The winter of 1979 became both the coldest and the snowiest ever. I was enrolled as a data processing student at the College of Lake County in Grayslake, IL.  Enrolled in 5 classes, I made the drive to the campus several times a week in my almost falling-apart old car.   The new occupation of roof shoveling was born.  Our gutters got full of ice dams  and the water poured through the family room ceiling.  We had to drill a hole in the family room floor to let it all drain into the crawl space.  This was the winter I learned to swear like a truck driver.  That kind of winter.

The Village People saved me.  I listened to the car radio going to and from school, and the Village People were always on the radio.  They had a song called "Key West" that brought warmth to the cold northern Illinois prairie.  I told myself that some day I would go to Key West, and the whole idea of Key West, warm, sunny, far away at the end of the road appealed mightily to me.

The car finally broke down and I got a new Sirocco.  I passed my courses and was one giant step closer to getting a job.  I loved computer programming.  The Village People kept pounding out the hits.  I went home everyday and whacked at the ice on the house, and I swore a blue streak.  Sometimes, you just need to use bad words.  

I got to Key West in the summer of 2002  and again a few years ago.  It was worth waiting for.  Hot and sunny with the chickens all over and Hemingway's cats lounging about his house.  Good food and drink.   Fine folks.   I put it in a book, which is what I do with all the cool places I visit.

Eating on the Beach

Wouldn't mind walking down Duval Street about now with snow on the ground and 5 degrees above 0 this morning.  Here's to the Village People.

The Blue Parrot--a great place for a drink or three

Blueberry Pancakes and the Cock of the Walk

One of the best places in Key West is Blue Heaven, a funky restaurant with chickens running about and blueberry pancakes to die for. The gift shop wasn't bad either. Someone on one of my "social networks" recommended Blue Heaven. Thank you. Thank you. Didn't look like much from outside, but once we found the garden with the shade and the chickens and the dynamite menu, everything was wonderful. Good bar, too, but we were just there for breakfast.

I gobbled down three big pancakes that must have had a pint of blueberries scattered throughout. Should have a photo of them, too, just like Stephen Shore photographed his breakfast and motel rooms. Damn.

Of course I was tempted to write Blue Heaven into the book, but it really doesn't belong there, so I'll have to blog it. The coffee was all right and the side order of bacon was cooked to my favorite crispness. Generous, too. Don't you just hate a puny side order or bacon?

I'm posting a few photos of the place. I was too enchanted with the curious chickens to photograph them, but they were a big part of the place, hens, young-un and a rooster, of course, who liked to crow. This was a warm up for Mr. Clucky in South Beach.

Key West in the summer is mucho hot, and we enjoyed the shade. It's tolerable with shade and/or a breeze. I am very fond of places at the end of the road and am hoping to get down to the tip of the Baja before I'm gone.

Grapeshot

Report on the Kindle

It's actually a lot of fun to read on the Kindle. My first and so far only book is Josephine Tey's Daughter of Time. It's not what I expected, but her writing is sublime and I am enjoying it a lot. No way to lose your place. Shuts off when you get up to do something.

I'm still working on getting my novel downloaded to it, and the learning curve is a little, well, curvier. I'll definitely put another book or two on it before leaving for south Florida. Taking my new notebook as well. A high tech trip, along with the digital camera.

The trip is for research on my WIP. Work In Process to the uninitiated. I have travelled to South Florida for years and years, either on business or pleasure and sometimes both. However, I never thought I would find myself writing about it. Heaven knows, there are so many authors who use the setting, and it's a great setting. Carl Hiaasen comes to mind. John McDonald's Travis Magee (sp?) hung out, as well as many others. The Florida MWA is a large and productive group.

Nevertheless, my character headed to Florida and I followed her, and she went to Miami and Key West, locales I only had a passing acquaintance with, and now I need some telling details. My drug lord lives in Miami and the character makes a crucial trip to the Keys. Again, the plot follows its wimsey, in a controlled way, of course.

The web is good for research, but nothing beats being there. So I'm off. The best thing is the book takes place this time of year, so I should be able to nail weather, sunsets, what's blooming, how wilted one feels, and all that good stuff. Yes!

More anon.

Grapeshot

In a Key West Hot Tub

Literary characters are a breed all their own. First of all, Maxine, who insisted on being called that name, appeared just as I had completed the first chapter of my 1928 California book. She talked to me and began telling me her story. Naturally I began writing it down, and Maxine and I are off on a little adventure, maybe even a big adventure involving drug lords, lost sisters, murder and mayhem and even a little romance.

Maxine is in Key West now, in June of 2008 and she's come to see a woman who can tell her about . . . well, never mind. Suffice it to say that these two need to have a little heart-to-heart. I could have done that scene with everything hunky dory, just sitting on the patio having this nice friendly chat, but that's not what writing is about. The chat is not friendly and there's a bottle of champagne and a hot tub and a lot of angst and unexpected happenings that move the plot forward.

Everything is subservient to the forward motion of the story. There are surprises and many aren't very pleasant. Maxine, and now Nicole, are both surprising me, and all I do is tell their stories.

God, it's weird.

And in the meantime, poor Carla Curby sits on that Santa Fe train heading to California and I sure hope that when Maxine and I are finished, Carla will be as eager to tell her story.

I'm making pumpkin tarts tomorrow and a very fancy iceberg lettuce salad, and our guest is bring not the bacon but the fish, a whole red snapper that will be baked with garlic and thyme and lemon.

The rain has been general over the South Shore and environs, and we are just glad it's not the white stuff, except for the kids, who crave the white stuff.

Iris is bereft and bawls all the time because her baby is gone. The herd of eleven has been culled to seven. Some old cows, some new. Mary Ann's baby is undoubtedly sad, too, as her playmate is gone. All summer and fall they were calves together and hung out and did calf stuff. So sad.

Westward Ho!

Did I mention we're taking off for an Alaskan cruise tomorrow? I understand the ship has email, so possibly there will be a few posts from the Far North. I'm taking one copy of The Shadow Warriors along to donate to the ship's library. The vessel is the Ryndam, of the Holland America line. Maybe some nice pictures for the blog will be forthcoming. We haven't been someplace NEW for 4-5 years. Key West is the last new place I recall. Of course it's nice to return to old haunts, too. So much world, so little time and money.

In the meantime, I changed the ending of Festival Madness and need to get it down on paper before it leaves my head for two weeks. Another query off to an agent yesterday.

Sometimes one wonders if the efforts required to leave town are worth it. Usually, yes. So....
The garden looks wonderful. Rabbits now eating carnations. I see the fat little dickens hopping around out in the woods. Cute and bad. Baby chipmunks scurrying around, too. Ah nature.

I finished Carl Hiaasen's Skinny Dip and it was laugh out loud funny. What great characters, esp. Tool who (sorta) reforms himself. Hope this isn't considered "LitBlogging," she mused with a snide smirk.

More anon from Grapeshot of the Far North.