E-mail from an old friend just arrived ...

Let us live like we are worth the price Jesus paid.

Make Sense?

You know I'm malingering on a Monday afternoon when I bother re-posting stuff from my Inbox over at myspace ...

"What Does A Kiss Mean?

~Kiss on the Forehead ="I hope we're together forever"

~Kiss on the Ear = You're my everything

~Kiss on the Cheek = "We're friends"

~Kiss on the Hand = "I adore you"

~Kiss on the Neck = "We belong together"

~Kiss on the Lips = I like you"


What the gesture means...

~Holding Hands = "We definitely like each other"

~Holding on tight = "I don't want to let go"

~Looking into each other's Eyes = "I just plain like you"

~Playing with Hair = "Tell me you love me"

~Arms around the Waist = "I like you too much to let go"

~Laughing while Kissing = "I am completely comfortable with you"



--Advice--

Dont ask for a kiss, take one.

If you were thinking about someone while reading this,

you're definitely in Love. "

Lying in the shade

"Habari yako and karibisho on behalf of Bad Bush Country Air Charter Service. Due to this afternoon's unexpectedly high temperatures, our departing flight will be temporarily delayed ..."

Nutshell

I write too long, I know it. But try this.

What New Spring means to me:

Most every Saturday night I feel like a diver who's been holding his breath underwater all week ... waiting for Sunday and a breath of living air.

The Strong 6

Forget everything you think you know about me for a minute. Really.

For the first few years after I moved to SC I was a weight freak and lived to work out in The Dungeon, a primitve weight room located under the pool on the Clemson campus ... but a 6'3" 240-pound guy curling 150 lbs for reps on the preacher's bench (wow; go figure) and doing 30 pull-ups with a 50-lb weight strapped around his waist or doing seated rows with 300 pounds for 15 minutes is headed for BIG long-term HEALTH PROBLEMS, for nothing but vanity.

It also comes down to the fact that people who weigh less, whether it's muscle or fat, tend to live longer. It's true.

The point here is this: on the bench 315 pounds is 315 pounds ... no matter if you're Mr Universe or Arnold or Woody Allen.

Any weight you're lifting is still heavy.

Weight weighs the same no matter how big your triceps are. Are we tracking?

And when you're staring at stacks of 45-pound plates on the bar nobody can lift heavy weight without having faith that overcomes the weight.

When P handles 45 minutes of heavy weight for 3 reps every Sunday (soon to be 4 reps... and possibly 6x) maybe it seems effortless and easy, but it can't be. There's no way. I say this because I was in tears tonight after hearing Payne Stewart's daughter without even knowing it'd happened.

Heavy weight is always heavy weight when it's bearing down on your chest.

Sometimes life hands us situations that seem unfair and beyond coping or bearing. So when we feel powerless and overwhelmed the tendency is to look for excuses like "It's not fair!' or "But I'm a good person" or "Why do I deserve this?"

Because the weight is always heavy ... every time it's on the bar.

If you live long enough you'll know or have seen people who've faced disappointments, crises or failure ... people who've "lost it" and gone over the cliff after feeling their lives have been ruined by situations beyond their control.

Maybe you've wondered why God allows bad things to happen in the first place. Isn't God love, after all?

Or maybe you've stood at the edge of the cliff and thought, "If God won't keep me safe then what's the point in trying to pick up the pieces?"

But tonight I realized things in life may show us the cliff ... but God is never the voice inside screaming Jump!

Faith is what holds us and makes lifting the weight possible ... and God is always there to keep us from going over the edge - no matter how difficult any unfairness in this life might seem.

About last night

17 degrees F? In December?

I had to get up in the middle of the night just to make sure I hadn't switched on the AC instead of the heat.

Tonight's feature at Ben's Dockside Theater is Dear Wendy (2005), directed by Thomas Vinterberg and written by Erik Nietzsche, whom you know as Lars von Trier.

Seating is extremely limited, so make your reservations early.

How Low Can You Go? - updated

A few minutes ago I heard the overnight lows for The Electric City are plummeting to something like 18 degrees F.

IS that cold?

Si, chica. Es muy frio verdad.

"The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Too" Jimmy Buffet Playlist Buffet:
Volcano
Growing Older But Not Up
Somewhere Over China
We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About
Havana Daydreaming
Wonder Why We Ever Go Home
The Captain and The Kid (ouch)
Coast of Marseilles
A Pirate Looks at 40
Biloxi
Come Monday
Brown Eyed Girl

Miss You So Badly


ps. Yes I AM anti-materialism ... but still can't take my eyes off boats that have dinghys longer than Ben and anchors that weigh more than I do :-).

Quien es mas Papa? - updated

The Blue Book's first-ever popular reader poll.

Which of the following best represents:

The Seaton 50

Krogen 54


Nordhavn 46


Diesel Duck 44


Hemingway leaving Havana aboard the Pilar.



Forgot it's a Frashley Friday Playlist:
Walking on the Moon - The Police

For Fun

A video peek at the new Nordhavn 76.

Not a nugget of wisdom - updated

I'm convinced the worst part of "The Flu" occurs after the big symptoms have passed ... like feeling hungry (yet losing appetite within a few bites), being thirsty (but even Gatorade causes nausea), I forget the others.

A neighbor just told me The Electric City's sure-fire cure for the Flu: a quart of water mixed with a spoonful of salt and two spoonfuls of sugar. Drink one glass right away, the rest over the course of the day.

I'd try it, but then I don't keep salt or sugar in the house.

Underway

Nyquil Cold/Flu is amazing stuff.

A cap and a half before bedtime conked me out till 9:30 this morning, meaning I got almost 3 days worth of sleep in one sitting.

Plus, it tastes like cherry syrup.

Down for maintenance

Uh oh, a couple of hours ago I started presenting classic symptoms of a 24-hr virus. Gee whiz, the stuff your body can do is amazing.

I dragged myself to the chemist 15 mins ago and got some Nyquil HD Cold/Flu and some Gatorade, so tucked into my expedition sleeping bag I should be all set.

I hate being sick, etc.

How 'bout them ghosts

Yeah well while ripping drawers and dusty envelopes apart this afternoon I inadvertently released the odd ghost or twelve.

Imagine my surprise when I found the above picture of my girlfriend back in college. We dated four years (and yes, I was a jerk the entire time). Talk about feeling ashamed and wanting to run from the room screaming.

But like the guy in the movie who'd been turned into a newt, I like to think I got better.

飛旋鏢愛 - in traditional Chinese, ya'll

有時您感覺像蛋卷, 您有時不。 我忘記, 我講流利漢語, 希望這不是太生鏽的。 呀, 我開始學習在愛上以後"蹲下的老虎, 暗藏的龍。" 真是一部偉大的影片! 噢, 和我由包裹做偉大的熱和酸湯..., 抱歉。但這仍然是相當好的。

Trawler Fest '07 - updated

Today's post comes pre-disqualified from serious consideration ... it's a daydream, after all.

What're we doing next summer? We're taking a month off and touring Florida by trawler like we talked about ... if we assume Ben's running by then.

Because I'm the man (and Papa after all) I've pre-arranged our itinerary. Don't start complaining too soon if it looks like I've forgotten anything, 'cause there might be a few surprises along the way.

Day 1 -Wakullah, Florida

Wake up in our cabins at the Shell Island Fish Camp and Marina. Pick up last-minute items at the Bait and Tackle store, board Ben and follow the west Florida coast south toward Yankeetown, which protocol demands we bypass on principle.

Arrive Cedar Key, Florida

We've got dinner reservations waiting at The Seabreeze on the Dock. After dessert we'll head over to The Island Hotel, built in 1859, for coffee. This is what the hotel looked like in the 1940s.

This is what it looks like today:


Our our way back to Ben I'll show you where I used to live on Second Street ... I think I can still find it.

Day 2 Siesta Island, Florida
The best white sand beaches in the world. Plan on staying an extra day, so I can tinker with any mechanical glitches while you spend the day shopping in town. If you're back in time we'll take a long stroll along the beach, hold hands and sneak a kiss or two with our eyes closed once the sun sets.


Day 4 & 5 - John's Pass & Treasure Island

We'll be flexible here because you might want to stick around and have dinner at The Don Cesar since we're in the neighborhood. Scott Fitzgerald thought The Don was swell.


Day 6 - Flamingo
All I'm gonna say here is be ready to roll before sun-up ... and pack a motorcycle helmet and a camera.


Days 7-10 The Conch Republic

Wow, I'm worn out. Let's plan on laying low at Hemingway's house, visiting Fort Jefferson and being expatriates for the weekend. Or three.

Assorted live Cayo Hueso cams are available here. My favorites are Mallory Square and Sloppy Joe's, obviously.

Day 24 - Sandy Cay, Bahamas

Remember that shot at the opening of Gilligan's Island? Sandy Cay (also known as Honeymoon Island) is the closest Bahamian island to the US and that's where we're headed ... at least till things settle down back on the mainland.

(Don't tell me what happened, I don't want to know the details.)

Days 25-29 At large in Bimini

Day 30
A short taxi ride along the narrow highway through Alice Town takes us to the ramp where the seaplane flight home is waiting. Neither one of us seems much in the mood for talking, as though staring out at the waves and the fishermen's huts blurring past the windows could make the past 30 days last forever.

At the customs shack you check your luggage at the counter and suddenly whirl around. "Where are your bags?"

I can't face what I see in your eyes then and turn back to the window and the docks. Outside the seaplane's engines whine in protest, rumble and roll over, the propellers kicking white spray out of sight behind them.

Then the blades are spinning dizzily and the flimsy walls seem ready to rattle loose from the blast. The attendant points to the seaplane and motions the last stragglers aboard. Behind me and what seems like years ago, over the propellers and between the thunder and wind I hear you whisper, "I'll stay too, if you want me ..."

But when I turn around there's nothing there, nothing in your eyes and nothing anywhere else to hint that you'd said it.




Saturday Night's See You In Cuba Playlist: Live Radio from Key West

Radio Margaritaville

Total Recklessness - Updated

Not since The Blue Book first went online back in 1893 has a single song ever been featured three times on The Playlist. Much less three times in one week.

Are we breakin' all the rules? Not by a long shot ... we're just gonna break this little one:

Open Up Your Eyes - Tonic
Your goal is to share this song with all the folks glued to their TV sets over in Belton & with all the weary-eyed commuters stuck in traffic between Columbia and The Electric City ... thus for tonight the volume knob is your very best friend.


Wasn't FF a gorgeous bride?

Yes, she was ... but as her dad, sorta, that didn't stop me from filing for an annulment beforehand and it was the Zebra Swimsuit I found her packing for her honeymoon that did it.

Sometimes it's hard being Papa, and looking out for your daughters.

No, it isn't ... and she's doing Hard Time Restriction till further notice. Now stop staring at my genetics.


Update:
Play it loud enough to hear over a leaf blower, that's my guess.

Lust for Old Stuff - 3x Updated- additional photos

"Lust" can mean lasciviousness, craving or eagerness. That's why I'm using it here to describe my reaction to seeing this gorgeous 1929 Christ Craft Commuter go cruising by Dock 4 yesterday afternoon.

Talk about having a Gatsby moment.


Chris Craft designed The Commuter in the late 1920s as a water-taxi to transport wealthy tycoons and businessmen from their mansions on Long Island to their skyscraper offices in Manhattan.

But demand vanished almost overnight as the stock market crash of October 28-29 1929 ushered in The Great Depression, and precious few Commuters remain today in original like-new condition.


Imagine we're in the rear cockpit crossing the Gulf Stream at sunset. Just you and me onboard: there's nothing but moonlight and glowing green waves till we get to Miami just before dawn.

I stand up to wind the Victrola and notice the hint of jasmine wafting from the cabin and see your purse half open on the table inside. You grin with your hand at your cheek without letting me see it as the wind tugs and whips the tails of my tuxedo.

Sitting beside you again the reflection of emeralds from the Gulfstream catches fire in your eyes and I ask myself Can she possibly know she's the most stunning woman I've ever seen?

Maybe you glance away then because you can read my mind ... but in another second you look back, push your hair to one side and tilt your head into the breeze as the Victrola whispers "When My Baby Smiles At Me" between the waves and the moonlit carpet glistening to the horizon.


The Commuter represented Chris-Craft's crowning achievement for the decade of the roaring twenties.

Color photos from Carolina-Classic-Boats.
Vintage ad from adclassix.com

Lord I'm willing to do ANYTHING, but ...

I hate cell phones. Used to have one, and chucked it.

If less than 7% of communication is verbal then why do people voluntarily pay onerous charges and overtime fees each month to have a remotely-triggered device attached to their belts (or carried loose in a purse) that leaves them slobbering and as frantic as Pavlov's starving dogs every time the dinner bell rings?

And talk about nuisance calls, I hate 'em. Come to think of it I'm not even sure why I have a telephone at the house ... because it's so much better spending time with you face to face.

That got me wondering what God must think when he hears the typical late-night prayer ("Now look, if you'll let me win Powerball then I promise ..." or "I've learned my lesson and if you'll get me out of trouble I'll do anything you want ... oh, and this time I mean it."

Are we trying to play Let's Make A Deal with the creator of the universe? Or are we pestering God with nuisance prayers on a hunch, like he's some rich uncle we only call when we want something?

Even when we pray and ask God's will be done, is that what we really want or expect?

I get the feeling "I'll do anything you want" or "Let your will be done" comes with a few strings attached ... conditions like, "So long as I make good grades and get a prestigious career, live in a bigger house than my enemies, stay in good health and drive a car no more than 2 years old. Yeah, and because you love me and dating is such a hassle I'll need The Perfect Spouse delivered to my doorstep by the end of the month, please.

"Lord if I get all those things then I'll really know you answer prayers, and in exchange I'd probably tell my friends you exist ... so long as they didn't think I was some kind of nut."

Hmmm, I'm just not sure that when Jesus promised "the abundant life" he was referring to record-breaking lottery wins, Ipods, 60" plasma TVs, BMWs, swimming pools, mates made-to-order or retirement and health packages ... but meant living his plan for our lives instead.

Yeux Ouverts

Once again ... but this time loud enough to see sparks at the ends of your finger tips.

"Open Up Your Eyes" - Tonic



Peoples voices make hollow sounds
Just be quiet...
They'll go away

Open up your eyes...
Dont let your mind tell the story here
Open up your eyes...
Just let me go.

The Awesome POWER of Frashley - updated

Next time you're over we'll turn "Healing Dance" down low and talk about The Power.

No, we won't ... the concept is too frightening to even whisper about. For now it's enough to say We just don't know.

While I was on the phone this afternoon with FF I stumbled across this photo Susan sent me shortly after I moved to The Electric City. Only five years had gone by since the last time I'd seen her but it seemed like twenty.




"But that story had in it the only constructive thing I ever learned about women- that no matter what happened to them and how they turned out, you should try to disregard all that and remember them only as they are on the best day they ever had." - Ernest Hemingway

Susan told me she liked that quote a lot.


Three Amigas
Jocelyn (right) introduced me to Susan at The Cooper Street Pier in Aspen. At the time Susan was Carla's (left) friend. Later Jeannie (center) was Carla's friend. Carla was 17 and said she had cancer. Jeannie was 16 and probably the sweetest girl I've ever known.


Not much to add about these, except I rode a motorcycle.



Me at the Sundance Film Festival:


Gosh, I remember KSPN used to play The Greatful Dead's "Shakedown Street" at least twice an hour ... got so bad and created such headaches that one night the cops threw cherry bombs through an open window just to make them stop. Or maybe it was something else.