A Evening Stroll

Suddenly it's Summer. The tropical storm has passed and we decided to take a stroll on a beautiful warm evening. Of course, Astral Wendy had her camera. I won't intrude with words. Enjoy......

Astrals Say No to GMOs

The Astrals are up in arms over the resistance to food labeling by the major corporations, especially Monsanto. Maybe the science around this is a little ambiguous, but we just want the food labeled so we can make our own choice. Plus, Monsanto is a big, old evil enterprise so when we got the word that there was a globally coordinated protest against GMOs in our food supply, scheduled for May 25th, we were all in. Our local march was in New Brunswick, NJ and was pretty well attended. I estimate there was about 750 protesters from a very wide demographic set. It was chilly and windy but the march was peaceful and the NBPD was actually friendly, which was nice to see after seeing the NYPD in action when we marched with Occupy.

Young hippy, old hippy feel all right..

Got to have some Anonymous for atmosphere.

The local organic co-op was the starting point and 

we marched about two miles to Buccleuch Park.

Right on!

Astral Wendy made her own protest poster.

We passed this house on Easton Avenue and these three

young girls were chanting 'Say No to GMO."

Sometimes you have to hug a tree. The winds were howling

and I found $100.00 in the grass. Astral Wendy said it was a

gift from the tree so she gave the tree a hug.

Here's an extra video bonus:

Walking back we saw this car, proving once again

that Funny Things are Everywhere.

Hands Across The Sands

Yesterday was the Astrals wedding anniversary from the legal point of view though we've been together for longer than that. Wendy heard about a Hands Across the Sands being promoted by the Sierra Club down at Island Beach State Park so we figured we'd have a go. It doesn't take much to get the Astrals to the beach, even on a cool overcast day. I think Wendy thought this was going to be some big Hands Across America type gig. I wasn't sure but when the ranger at the gate looked kind of quizzical about the whole thing, I began to wonder. There were a few people there but I didn't feel like asking to hold hands with 10 perfect strangers. Still, we had some fun as we always do.

I began by pretending I was holding 7 million hands.

Admiral Halsey looking for a butter pie.

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, 
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height; 
And far away into the sickly light, 
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge sea-worms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

Volunteers have been planting some grass to help the dunes.

Secret writing is everywhere.

Our private Hands Across the Sands.

A fetish for fetishes is a hallmark of Astral Wendy.

I found a shell that looked like a Coelacanth.

Well, sorta.

Well, the beach was mostly clean.

Just in case you forgot we're in New Jersey,

here's a Dodge Challenger limo. Now you can

dig the situation.

Florida Cold For Nomads

It seems so negative to call it "The Curse of the Astral Nomads" and it's always so hard to distinguish coincidence from the cold hard facts of scientific measurement but cold weather seems to track our wanderings like white on rice, (cf. our recent trip to San Diego). Well, late February and early March, when you're living in New Jersey, the winter starts to wear on the spirit, given the grey barren cold gist of it all. As a precursor to spring, the Nomads like to head down to Florida to visit our good friends Clark and Stacy. Here's the plan: flying down Friday, flying back Monday. Here's the weather in Eustis: Thursday 75F, Friday 59F, Saturday 56F, Sunday 57F, Monday 55F, Tuesday 75F. No need to mention the wind Friday through Monday. Curse? You be the judge. In the words of Swiper: Aw Man!

Islands in the Jet Stream. Pretty from the air but

the Northwest wind is the enemy. Blame Canada!

We were pretty hungry from the flight so Clark brought us to a great

BBQ place in Winter Park: Harry & Larry's. Awesome BBQ. So good

that Astral Wendy didn't even stop for a photo. We did find our 

namesake street, though.

Chillin' with my man Dylan. He was home for break

from his Golf Management studies at FGCU.

He can strike a golf ball so well that Clark

and I just cry like little babies. Seriously, he's

close to scratch and I'm usually just in awe.

Clark and Stacey live on Lake Johanna.

Despite the chill, we hung on the dock for morning

cigarettes and coffee.

The view back to the house.

Oh, yes, there is a bird.

Just for something to do, we hit the Leesburg Arts Festival.

Not bad, although cold and windy. Leesburg has some history,

like an Opera House from 1889. Who woulda thunk?

Here's Astral Wendy and Stacey pretending to be hags. As if.

Indeed.

When there's peeps, there's Model A's

On the way back from the Art's festival, we passed the local regional 

airport where they had a small exhibition of some vintage WWII aircraft, 

including a B-17, a Liberator, and a P-51. They were all still flight

worthy but we didn't stick around to watch or get aboard. A 30

minute flight on the the B-17 was $475.00. Yikes! More than my

round trip from Newark to Florida. Plus, the plane looked like it

might have seen better days, And tight inside. Clark and I crawled

through and almost got stuck in spots. 

The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State, 

And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze. 

Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life, 

I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters. 

When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose. 

Clark and Dylan hanging with the Mustang.

Side of the Liberator. 

For lunch on Sunday, we headed over to Tavares to check out this new 

Canjun restaurant Tasso. The link goes to Stacy's review, which pretty well sums it up. 

Great food, service so inept it was pretty much a comedy routine. The food

was really good though.

Hanging outside of Tasso.

Inside of Tasso. Industrial chic.

Ah, the fabulous Jambalaya!

Hello Mr. Allnut. Hello Mrs. Allnut.

On the way back from Tasso, along Lake Dora, we spotted a bald

eagle and these two sandhill cranes gettin' all jiggy with it.

Huh? Funny things are everywhere!

At Newark, there was pigeon that just flew in from Chicago,