Recently a few of my readers have requested my husband write a blog. He’s very funny and witty, I often steal his lines. Tonight’s title was his idea. I’m working on this request. I may have him write a guest blog, but don’t hold your breath. Getting him to sit down and write something is no easy task. Maybe he can dictate it to me. We’ll see. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, he got home from work earlier than usual today and went to the pool to write an estimate. I worked in the morning and then spent the afternoon reading my book out loud. Numerous times I have been told this is a very good thing to do while editing. Dani Shapiro highly recommends it in her book, Still Writing, which I am still reading.
It is amazing how many mistakes you catch when you do this and how it is easier to make your sentences sound better when you hear them spoken out loud. You start flipping the words around, cutting things, reading it again. There that’s better, but let’s try this. You change it again. I spent a half hour on one particularly ornery paragraph. Of course, I felt very silly sitting in my apartment alone, reading out loud, but I got over that quickly.
After reading aloud all afternoon, I went out for a walk. The wind had been blowing all day. It doesn’t howl and whistle like in New England. It rustles through the palm trees. A lovely, welcome sound, the harbinger of cool breezes. I went to the pool to tell my husband I was going for a walk. He told me to be careful, he’d just seen a coconut fall in the pool. “It’s a very windy night on Gilligan’s Island,” he said.
The sun was just beginning it’s descent at six o’clock, I still had enough daylight to walk three miles. Foregoing the beach, I decided to walk along Route One. I didn’t want sand in my face. There are some murals I’ve driven by numerous times and I wanted to photograph them. “The winds are probably clocking 40 miles per high. They’re not obeying the manatee speed limit,” my husband warned, pointing towards the Intracoastal. “I won’t be long,” I replied.
Cars whizzed by as only they can whizz by in Florida. I have driven to New York numerous times to lacrosse games, through the Bronx and Queens and out along the Long Island Expressway. I have also driven the Jersey Turnpike countless times. I’ve driven cross country four times. I have never seen anything like Florida drivers. Nobody obeys the manatee speed limit.
My first mural was a mermaid I have long admired , who resides on the side of a beach art shop.
The shop sells seashells and other artwork made from shells.
The little sign at the front of the boat says Don’t Steal My Shells.
These murals were painted by Judy Dempsey and David Nau at Art Explosion of South Florida.
Next up was a series of the nicest looking dumpsters I’ve ever seen.
I passed the drive through liquor store I wrote about.
A mile and a half into my walk, I turned around and headed home. I began to notice windows. For some reason this often happens, I take a photo of something, a door or windows or an unusual chair at an outdoor cafe, and suddenly I’m seeing photo worthy examples of this object everywhere. Tonight it started with block glass. I’ve always wanted this kind of window in a bathroom.
Then I passed a deco style building with these two windows:
I finally came upon the Boynton Women’s Club.
I was close to the historic area of Boynton Beach where the library is. This building was designed in the Mediterranean Revival style by the famous Palm Beach architect Addison C. Mizner. His name is everywhere in Boca Raton. Built in 1925, the women of Boynton are known for their good deeds, such as helping the library and other community organizations.
Almost home, I passed a ubiquitous PNC Bank I have driven by numerous times. As always, I notice so much more when I am on foot. At the entrance to the parking lot, I saw a sign above an unusual looking gate. Mangrove Gate. It is part of an art project PNC takes part in, bringing art to local communities.
It never ceases to amaze me that even on a windy night, walking along a busy road, there is always so much to see. And I didn’t even get hit by a coconut.