Mote sharks, Salty Dogs, turkeys and hockey goalies.
By Hannah Wallace
Got quite a scare heading home from work one evening last week. I was off in my own world on Tamiami just north of downtown, when a car pulled past me in the other lane. The driver was leaning out of his window, vigorously flicking me off and making a gesture suggesting I’d been drinking. Oh my god, what did I just do?! I hadn’t changed lanes or anything; why on earth was this guy so angry? About 30 seconds of that kind of panic before I realized it was the Beerslingers’ Goalie J (also known as Harm-o for his comical violent streak on the ice). Turns out, those weren’t angry gestures but merely Harm-o sign language for, “Hi! How are you? Wanna go grab a drink and catch up?”
Went to Mote Aquarium with CCB on Saturday. Haven’t been there in years, and I’d really underestimated how much fun it would be to see all the exhibits of fish and anemone (not to mention the enormous eel), the huge tank with sharks, tarpon and goliath grouper, the dolphins and manatees and sea turtles just inches away. I always knew Mote was something for Sarasota to be proud of, but it’s good to refresh your memory every once in a while.
Followed up the fishies with lunch across the street at Salty Dog and then a pint of Guinness at Lynches. A couple weeks ago I interviewed the Lynch sisters for our annual St. Armands magazine. They’ve still got their awesome accents from growing up on a farm in Cork County, and their cozy “pub and grub” is a great place to relax and split your attention between college football and the fascinating St. Armands sidewalk traffic.
CCB and I volunteered to host Thanksgiving this year—I think our enthusiasm for the turkey fryer we inherited may have gotten the best of us. CCB was putting the thing together the other night and kept reading aloud parts of the instruction manual that warned against scalding oil and propane explosions. Not to mention all the stories and studies about Thanksgiving disasters—I heard on the radio this morning that something like 87 percent of first-time Thanksgiving hosts end up sobbing and rending their garments. Any suggestions from weathered turkey vets out there would be greatly appreciated. (Judi Gallagher, I’m looking at you.)
But before we can address the big bird, I’ve got a hockey tournament in Fort Myers this weekend. My goal? To avoid falling down and hurting myself. Again. Wish me luck and soft landings.