Having a wonderful time. The weather is great. Wish you were here.
A. Jekyll Island is where, during the turn of the century (19th to 20th), the American titans of industry convened at the Jekyll Beach Hotel and smoked big fat cigars. While smoking big fat cigars, they did things like form the Federal Reserve, merge companies, make millions in minutes, and slap each others' backs. Their wives or mistresses played croquet on the front lawn. They built (or had built) opulent "cottages" which you can visit. Jekyll Island was quite the exclusive playground back in the day.
B. Before entering the Jekyll Beach Hotel to look around, I got a wonderful and memorable dirty look from a well-quaffed gentleman with a sweater tied around his neck.
C. While visiting a "nature center" on the southern side of the island, I wanted to inquire about kayak rentals, but no one was in the place. Walking back to the car, I noticed a guy down by a salt pond working on something. I asked if he worked there, but then noticed he was adjusting an accordian. He told me he didn't work there, and that he was waiting for his girlfriend. I said, "So, while waiting for your girlfriend, you decided to work on your accordian." He said, "Yeah, weird, isn't it?" I told him of course it wasn't, why the hell should a person NOT work on his accordian when waiting for his girlfriend while down at the salt marsh?
D. While visiting the sarcophagii of some French residents from the 1800s, I was maliciously attacked by salt marsh gnats. Over the past three days, I have had itching welts all over my arms and legs and a despicable case of diarrhea. There is orgasmic lift, however, in vigorously plowing my fingernails across said welts. This just intensifies the itch, of course, and brings blood to the skin. I have learned, now from two exposures, that I am allergic to the bites of sea marsh gnats.
E. Walking from our condo complex to a nearby beach, there is a sign on a post which points the way. It says, "Driftwood Beach. Rated the Fifth Most Romantic Beach in the World." Driftwood Beach is the home of hundreds of dead trees whose trunks and remaining branches have been half-swallowed by sand. It is a unique and eery place. If the sign had said, "Rated the Fifth Most Haunted Beach in the World," I would have been more of a believer. Romantic? So, as I was walking amid the gnarled wooden remains, I came across some writing in the sand. It said, "I LOVE ROGER". And just like that, words written by my daughter just hours before, there was the proof.
F. Roger has three tattoos. Each is oriental calligraphy, small in size, with one on his upper left arm, one on his upper right arm, and one in the middle of his back. They are beautiful and must convey some mystical truths, I thought. Truth be told, they mean: "See Rock City".
G. While on Jekyll Island, I have had a very annoying song going on in my head: "Sometimes... all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you..." I asked Sue if she ever had a song in her head she couldn't lose. She said that, as a matter of fact, she had had a song going on that very day: "Jingle Bells."
H. Squadrons of pelicans protect this place and provide endless entertainment. Pelicans are so impossible, they deserve their own blog entry, if they'll have me.
Comments are welcome at tombohn2@yahoo.com
A. Jekyll Island is where, during the turn of the century (19th to 20th), the American titans of industry convened at the Jekyll Beach Hotel and smoked big fat cigars. While smoking big fat cigars, they did things like form the Federal Reserve, merge companies, make millions in minutes, and slap each others' backs. Their wives or mistresses played croquet on the front lawn. They built (or had built) opulent "cottages" which you can visit. Jekyll Island was quite the exclusive playground back in the day.
B. Before entering the Jekyll Beach Hotel to look around, I got a wonderful and memorable dirty look from a well-quaffed gentleman with a sweater tied around his neck.
C. While visiting a "nature center" on the southern side of the island, I wanted to inquire about kayak rentals, but no one was in the place. Walking back to the car, I noticed a guy down by a salt pond working on something. I asked if he worked there, but then noticed he was adjusting an accordian. He told me he didn't work there, and that he was waiting for his girlfriend. I said, "So, while waiting for your girlfriend, you decided to work on your accordian." He said, "Yeah, weird, isn't it?" I told him of course it wasn't, why the hell should a person NOT work on his accordian when waiting for his girlfriend while down at the salt marsh?
D. While visiting the sarcophagii of some French residents from the 1800s, I was maliciously attacked by salt marsh gnats. Over the past three days, I have had itching welts all over my arms and legs and a despicable case of diarrhea. There is orgasmic lift, however, in vigorously plowing my fingernails across said welts. This just intensifies the itch, of course, and brings blood to the skin. I have learned, now from two exposures, that I am allergic to the bites of sea marsh gnats.
E. Walking from our condo complex to a nearby beach, there is a sign on a post which points the way. It says, "Driftwood Beach. Rated the Fifth Most Romantic Beach in the World." Driftwood Beach is the home of hundreds of dead trees whose trunks and remaining branches have been half-swallowed by sand. It is a unique and eery place. If the sign had said, "Rated the Fifth Most Haunted Beach in the World," I would have been more of a believer. Romantic? So, as I was walking amid the gnarled wooden remains, I came across some writing in the sand. It said, "I LOVE ROGER". And just like that, words written by my daughter just hours before, there was the proof.
F. Roger has three tattoos. Each is oriental calligraphy, small in size, with one on his upper left arm, one on his upper right arm, and one in the middle of his back. They are beautiful and must convey some mystical truths, I thought. Truth be told, they mean: "See Rock City".
G. While on Jekyll Island, I have had a very annoying song going on in my head: "Sometimes... all I need is the air that I breathe and to love you..." I asked Sue if she ever had a song in her head she couldn't lose. She said that, as a matter of fact, she had had a song going on that very day: "Jingle Bells."
H. Squadrons of pelicans protect this place and provide endless entertainment. Pelicans are so impossible, they deserve their own blog entry, if they'll have me.
Comments are welcome at tombohn2@yahoo.com
Loved both postcards.Although I don't think I could see & read all of the previous postcard...you were just on your way to urgent care...and then...nothing...oh well..I hope Sue finally got meds! Hope the rest of your vacay goes well, and I look forward to seeing the new addition to your yard,that is if you finally found the CEE-ment yard adornment store.
ReplyDelete