Tumbleweed and bombing

My repertoire of child friendly jokes doesn't run much beyond 'knock, knock' efforts but I do have a personal favourite which I trotted out to my niece and nephew on our walk to summer camp this morning. To say they were unimpressed with their Uncle Alex's brand of humour would be an understatement, disappointing really since I'd rolled out the heavy artillery and hit them straight up with my favourite gag ever. It's bad enough when kids don't laugh, worse still when your joke requires an explanation. Tumbleweed now surrounds Waters Edge Elementary School, Boca Raton, Florida. For the record, here it is...

'Why do you never go hungry in the desert?'

'Because of all the sand which is there.' 😬

(see, if you join up the words 'sand' and 'whi..', oh never mind)

The kids were well excited, they're at the water park today (parents and guardians not invited, I asked.) Since I won't be present to demonstrate how they should be entering a swimming pool I showed them this video instead, top bombing, poetry in motion...

I chatted again this morning with my new guru, Donna, she's the lollipop lady that walks us across the road to summer camp at 8am and scrapes me off it after my run at 9am. She's a lovely lady and gave me a small gift yesterday, a book of daily insights into how to run your life, this morning I told her about today's entry which described how we should pray with thanks and not always with supplication, to thank God for his work in our lives and not simply present him with a shopping list of requirements, which I confess is my usual style. 

So that's my challenge today, thank God for everything he's given me and not shake my fist at him for what he has not. This has been a pseudo spiritual broadcast from the Russon Party.

Summer, summertime!

Love this track, typifies the relaxed feel of summer here in Florida, hope you enjoy it too.

Instead of water, my new friend here in Florida had something else for me this morning as I staggered to the end of my 5k run. She's a lollipop lady, we chatted yesterday after I'd dropped the kids at summer camp, and today she brought me a gift as a result of the conversation we'd shared. It was the Little Book Of Wisdom, a daily reading aimed at helping you make the right decisions in life, small and big. There's two ways to look at this gift, either a) a damning assessment by her of my intellectual ineptitude or b) simply a kind gesture from a good natured woman. I'll give myself the benefit of the doubt and go with 'b'. 

The run itself was fun although the scenery is taking some getting used to, particularly the waters. The lakes and waterways here boast heron and various types of foliage for me to regard, when I ran past canals back in Walsall, West Midlands though I was accustomed to shopping trolleys, discarded beer cans and wheelie bins floating in the water so it makes a pleasant but stark change.

I'm going to take a few photos today and make up an album on Facebook to share with you, I would include photos here but haven't worked out how to blinkin well do it which is why you keep seeing random cartoons at the top of most posts. The estate the house that I'm staying in is typical of what a Brit might expect of an American homestead; Stars and Stripes everywhere, brilliant sunshine, neat and tidy lawns, palm trees, back garden swimming pools, the whole bit. I'm not sure Aberdeen is ready for a pool in the back garden yet but at least I'd be able to spend an afternoon alongside it without fear of sunburn.

Coralea and Erik were all questions as we walked to their summer camp this morning; do you have candy in Great Britain? Why do you talk to everyone you see? Is it true what poppa says that Aston Villa are the greatest team in England? I answered in the affirmative to questions one and three and explained away number two in the only way I knew how, it's hereditary if you're a Russon so prepare yourselves kids for an awful lotta waffle in your lives to come!

Gimme water

I made a new friend today, although we didn't get off to the greatest of starts. She thought I was Australian, bleedin cheek, still, at least she didn't accuse me of being Welsh. Donna was her name, a school crossing guard or lollipop lady in Britspeak, she took pity on me as I crawled on my hands and knees towards her at the end of a 5k run after I'd dropped the kids off at summer camp. I'd run a couple of blocks (I'm pickin up the lingo already) in stifling heat and wasn't ending my run with much poise, panting like a hot dog and weaving across the sidewalk (there I go again) like a drunken sailor. She shared her water with me and said she'd bring extra tomorrow in case I went running again, I didn't know whether to be grateful or humiliated.

Me and Charlie (3 year old Labrador) had the gaff to ourselves all day, Chris and Taisha were at work. I edited the first draft of my latest book (ooh, get me!). I'm halfway through and haven't felt moved to rip it up and start again quite yet which is a good sign, although I hope Charlie's snoring as I recited an extract wasn't prophetic. He barks sporadically, usually when one of those wee lizards scuttles across the backyard, and he licks my feet under the dining table, I don't know who comes off worse in that encounter.

My tan has advanced from milk bottle white to a kind of tartare sauce cream if that's not too vulgar an image, Russons don't tan so don't expect me to come home looking like David Dickinson. I'm going to spend more time outdoors tomorrow mind which may nudge me from a shade of cream into grey, we'll see. I'll take a gander around the area, maybe shoot some hoops in my sneaks or bust some rhymes down in the hood, either that or buy an English newspaper to read over my beans on toast. Over and out from downtown Boca Raton.

Lazy Sunday in Florida

The tee-shirt tan is progressing nicely despite the fact I've spent the bulk of my time in front of the television. I don't care if I'm visiting the eighth wonder of the world, if Wimbledon and the golf's on the telly I'm watching it. It gets better next week, the British Open Golf is on the goggler wall to wall for the entire week and I'll be making it my business to hoover up every last minute. 

I went to church this morning and got collared by a welcoming committee including a bloke called Tom who was tickled pink to meet a Brit. When he learned I lived in Scotland he asked me if I knew a guy called Alistair Begg, no word of a lie, as if Scotland housed just a handful of individuals all of whom I knew. Nice guy though and I'll see him again when I return on Thursday night, he strong armed me into attending a 'men's event', the steaks and ribs sold it to me.

Back at base and Taisha's friends are visiting from Miami, half a dozen fun-filled Haitian nationals are larking around in the swimming pool and enjoying themselves far too much than is permitted for a lazy Sunday afternoon. I've taken the trouble to park myself in front of the golf indoors instead, I wouldn't want to crowd the poolside so have done the decent thing. Chris is making me coffee and Coralea sharing chocolate cupcakes, life is tough here in Florida and no mistake. Tomorrow I'm going to drop the kids off at summer camp then go for a run during which I may well perish in searing heat so if there's no blog posting tomorrow you'll know why.

Legoland

I skirmished with Legoland today, Chris and I dropping his kids off before we skidaddled to meet friends of mine a half hour drive away. Talk about random, here I am vacationing in Florida at the very same time as a couple I know fae Aberdeen so we met up for lunch. This time last week we were drinking tea after a church service in Bridge Of Don, today we find ourselves devouring pasta while looking out at a Floridian storm.

Coralea and Erik loved Legoland and had the good sense not to get Legoland driving licences which gives them an excuse to insist on a return, smart kids. They dodged the downpours to have a terrific time, these rains really are dramatic, a ten step scurry from car park to restaurant and you still end up looking like a drowned rat. Chris takes drowned rat status a step further by indulging in random leaps fully clothed into his back garden swimming pool, he's as nutty now as he was as a kid, I don't believe he's still starting camp fires in his bedroom these days but wouldn't put it past him.

The real entertainment came at the end of today when Chris attempted to check us into the hotel he'd booked earlier. Legoland is three hours from his home so he'd booked accommodation for us to crash in before our return the following morning. Trouble was, the hotel double booked and refused us. The steam coming out of Chris's ears blew the wig off the man standing next in line, Chris was apoplectic, his protest long and loud...but fruitless. He called the manager, emailed the manager's boss, kicked up the stink to end all stinks but to no avail, we had to clamber back into the motor and head home to Fort Lauderdale. He got a free night's accommodation by way of compensation but that didn't prevent his right foot taking his frustration out on the accelerator pedal, we were back home in the blink of an eye.

Since arriving here I've turned sleeping into an Olympic sport, setting new records in lengths of sleep not seen since tolerating goalless draws at Villa Park under McLeish's reign. Still, I'm on ollerdee to relax not run a marathon and I'm starting a new job when I get back so need a healthy dose of R&R in preparation. Tomorrow I'll find a church service to attend then watch Mr Federer win Wimbledon yet again although I feel duty bound to point out that he's never beaten me in a game of tennis so by default I'm effectively as good as him.

Lazy day no 1.

I can confirm jet lag is a truth not a theory, I've slept like a baby all day. I didn't manage a wink on the nine hour flight yesterday and couldn't sleep last night either so spent the bulk of my first day in Florida snoring my head off. 

Later on I roused myself to collect my niece and nephew Coralea (9) and Erik (6) from their holiday camp, they're off to Legoland in Orlando tomorrow too, life sure is tough for young kids in Florida.

It's a small world. Despite being 3,500 miles fae Aberdeen I'm lunching tomorrow with a friend from Bridge Of Don Baptist Church,  Brian Foreman, he's over on holiday. Poor chap can't shake me off. I'll post some pics tomorrow, I meant to today but the rains came in so I didn't get chance. Chris's gaff is fantastic, swimming pool, mod cons , spacious rooms, it's starting to feel like home already.

We stopped off at a golf centre round the corner, I might get 9 holes in one early morning before the searing heat knocks me over. Chris dropped off his mutt Charlie for two nights at the dog hotel while we're up in Orlando, the animal wouldn't budge knowing he was to be separated from his master, the temptation of dog biscuits did the trick though. I'm knackered and off to bed, apologies for the low-key account of day one but I've spent it on autopilot, gonna attack tomorrow full-on though. Grrrr!

Bedlam next stop...

I'm not superstitious so the seagull that deposited it's digested breakfast upon me as I walked down Union Street this morning can go to hell. There I was, minding my own business, skipping along to catch a bus to the airport and wallop, a pesky seagull let's fly and my trousers now give the appearance that I'm a painter & decorator. It's tough being a Christian sometimes, I often ask God why he created seagulls and pigeons. And Birmingham City.

I made Aberdeen airport in good time for the flight to Gatwick where I now find myself sitting in a departure lounge for three hours before the connecting flight to Florida. The first flight went well, I snored all the way since it was an early one but the pilot's attempt at landing was aborted due to aerial clutter. The old granny next to me was having kittens, I tried to console her but she was having none of it, convinced the end was nigh. She looked about ninety years of age so she might well be right if that's not too heartless a sentiment.

Chris told me to bring two things to Florida to keep his good wife happy; a box of Oxo cubes and a huge white chocolate Toblerone. Well there's good news and there's bad news. I acquired both but only one remains and you can guess which one met its end, let's put it this way, the remaining item would typically be used as stock for a casserole. Well you try sitting in an airport departure lounge for four hours staring at a tube of Toblerone, don't tell me you wouldn't crack. I'll make up for it, they give you a boiled sweet on the plane so I'll give that to Taisha instead, I know she'll understand.

Gatwick airport is massive, I had to get a tram from one terminal to another and there's more retail outlets than Union Square. Thankfully it's not too busy though, word must have spread that I was headed this way so people have put their jollies off for another twenty four hours. There was a stag party in full swing at the airport bar, I bypassed grown men in fancy dress drinking themselves to a standstill, it's kinda surreal watching Mickey Mouse and Charlie Chaplin in conversation over a pint of lager. For my part I'm off in search of a telly to watch Wimbledon and to drink the first of several cups of coffee. Is Florida ready for a pebble dashed Englishman full of white chocolate and high on excitement? We will see, but more to the point is this Englishman ready for two weeks of his youngest brother's breathtaking antics and random recipes? I love you Chris and one of the things I love most is your uniqueness, however, the prospect of a fortnight's cheddar cheese curries, carrot and pineapple soup and blue steaks garnished with haggis salads does not fill me with glee. We'll get through though I know it, or we'll have Mum to contend with.