Florida 2013: Cracker Barrel

I added a wordpress app to my Smartphone and decided to test drive this bad boy at St. Augustine’s Cracker Barrel (I’m a rebel like that), seeing that my Mom and sisters are visiting the local outlets and the intermitent Floridian deluges are stoppering any attempt to sightsee the city’s copious forts and gator farms. Soooo … I’m posting tons of photos over the next several weeks in part because Disney saps the life out of you but mostly because I’m rather lazy writer. Thus, if you’ve developed a healthy lassitude to the written word, enjoy! If not, well read War and Peace or better yet my other blog posts – some are even longer than a Russian novel so go crazy you kooky sesquipedalian.

image

Every visit to Cracker Barrel deja vu haunts you. We ate at three of these places and the wild assortment of candy, talking toy tucans, and 'I love Granny' t-shirts look the same regardless of zip code.

Continue reading

Advertisements

Planking Old School

“For the last time,” I sigh, “I have no idea what kind of wood they want.  If it’s not written on the sheet I gave you, the pieces can be made from cardboard for all I care.”

I tapped the ‘sheet’ — a square piece of cut cardboard, where Mom and her carpenter had scribbled the dimensions of various planks and decorative trim.  The sheet wobbled atop a stack of wood samples like the roof of shanty poked with a funnel cloud.  The guy behind the register was not particularly blind, but I felt that calling attention to the list helped to establish my incompetence.

“Well,” the old man said, returning my sigh as if vying for a Grand Slam, “well, do you want to call them?  See what they want to do?”

I pause for a few seconds and pretend to consider the suggestion, soaking in the fact that I’ve made authority figures out of nothing more than pronouns.  ‘They’  could be the Queen of England (using the royal plural) or the NSA, scouring the guy’s phone records.  Or perhaps our alien overlords.  That’s the power of obscurity.   Besides, specifying my employers as ‘Mom and Dad’ just sounded lame.

Continue reading