AB1 Tour - Week 8 - Savannah, GA

Today, I think we'll start out with a song ... and a one, and a two and a ...
"Oh, Savannah, oh don't you cry for me,
cause I come from Alabama with a banjo on my knee!"
EVERYBODY SING!
"Oh, Savannah ..."
What's that, dear? ... "Oh, Susanna"? Well, that just doesn't make any sense ... O.K., let's settle this by going to the supreme source of knowledge. Yes, I'll wait while you check Wikipedia.
"Oh, I come from Alabama ..."
Well, while Diedre's checking on that, let me tell you about our time in SAVANNAH (not SUSANNA), Georgia. Our friend, Jamie Deichen, once told us that you can tell a lot about Georgians by the first question they ask you:
"What do you do for a living?" means they're from Atlanta.
"What church do you attend" means they're from Macon.
But if they ask you, "What'll you have to drink?" you know they're from Savannah. It's a most gracious place.

We hit the great state of Georgia on Sunday, May 18. The campground there was a bit rustic; in fact, it was the first one we had been to in our two years of arduous luxury RV travel to have NEITHER toilets or showers. I mean, come on! We're not barbarians, you know.
So, a single night later, we furtively pulled up stakes and made our way to a new campground on Hilton Head Island in South Carolina. This place was plush: it not only had toilets and showers, but the substances coming out of the faucets were liquid gold. They even had a nice restaurant, a bit of a rarity in the RV world, and a nearby pool at which we sat in the evening and viewed outstanding sunsets. We had regained our RV mojo.
We layed low most of Tuesday since we had been forced to set up camp two times in the previous two days, thus depriving us of our almost-sacred "No Rules Monday" where we basically redefine the word "sloth." And with me, "laying low" usually means going to a ball game, so on this evening, we procured tickets to the fine "Savannah Sand Gnats" minor league baseball game. I don't want to say that their minor league team doesn't draw well, but when Diedre called and asked what time the game started, the voice on the other end of the phone replied, "What time can you be here?"

As is her wont, Diedre then went on-line and found the finest beer-dispensing establishment she could. Downtown Savannah's was called, "The Crystal Beer Parlor." A sign over the bar read:
"In Wine There Is Wisdom.
In Beer There Is Freedom.
In Water There Is Bacteria."
You got to love a place like that.
Sure enough, they had excellent crab stew, about as good as it gets. And for Diedre, the humongous selection of draft beers almost made her forget we were going to see a team called "The Sand Gnats" that Gnight. All she could mutter was, “GNUTS!"
YAY! for inebriation.

The Savannah Sand Gnats are a Class A (lowest class of ball short of playing for the Cubs) affiliate of the New York Mets. They play in the South Atlantic League (a.k.a. "The Sally League") established in 1909. The mausoleum they call a ballpark, historic Grayson Stadium, is the oldest minor league ballpark in existence. It was built in 1941.
The team has come up with some distractions to take your mind off your surroundings. Their mascot was "Gnate the Gnat"; it took several pounds of Raid Insect repellant to keep this mildew-soaked insect away from you. On the plus side, it was "Two-fer-Tuesday," meaning if you bought one Miller Lite or Coors Light beer, you'd get the second one free. You can just imagine how thrilled this made Diedre, our beer connoisseur.
It was also "Bark in the Park" night where you could bring your dog to the game. There was no mention of cats, however. No matter, though, because when I had asked our three kids about coming to the game wearing Schnauzer disguises, they yawned and opined that they'd really rather stay in the RV and catch up on their "Masterpiece Theatre" viewing (or was it “Mouseterpiece Theatre”?).
Their loss.

At least front row seats for the game were only $10, so we grabbed two directly behind home plate. We were virtually the only ones in the place sitting in the box seat sections. The archaic stadium harkened back to medieval times as their moat-like protective screening effectively went all the way from home plate down both lines. I had never seen that before. I guess they don't want anybody knocked goofier than they already are in Savannah, GA.
That Gnight, the Gnats played the dreaded "Charleston River Dogs." The River Dogs first batter singled, then quickly came around to score. One run in, but that was it for the Dogs. They managed to garner only five more hits and no runs the rest of the game.
The Sand Gnats weren't doing much better, remaining scoreless until the 8th inning. Then, after the first two batters made outs, our Gnarly Gnats erupted for two runs on three hits highlighted by former Mets semi-star Lee Mazilli's son's long double to left. The home town Gnats romped to a late Gnight thrilling 2-1 victory.
YAY, TEAM!

The gnext morning (all right, egnough with the "g-n" stuff") the Gnats news was overshadowed in the morning paper by a story about our native Minnesota securing the rights to host the 2018 Super Bowl at its new ONE-BILLION dollar, 72,000 seat stadium. This will be the 2nd time my frozen city will have hosted a Super Bowl; the first time was in 1992 when the Washington Native Americans beat the Buffalo Williams. So, score one for the dudes from the frozen north.

If I could find my photo of me at age 3, I would attach it and
 further explanation wouldn't be needed.
Probably only my family will understand this photo.

Since we were actually staying in South Carolina while mostly visiting Georgia, we decided one of our precious days should be spent checking out the original Confederate state. I’m not sure, though, if Hilton Head Island is the best example for the ante-bellum set. We hit a nice beach where Diedre re-enacted her “Little Patty” pose from 1949. She’ll have to explain that one to you.
But other than that, it was Savannah that held the most interest for us. Are we getting too old to say that beaches no longer hold much interest for us?

On Thursday, we did Part 1 of our usual walking tour. This town has so much to see that we had to divide the tour into two parts. Our route followed the suggestions of a book we purchased entitled "A Self-Guided Tour of Savannah." If you’ll be going to Savannah anytime in the near or not-so near future, let us know and we'll send you this fine, 24-page mini-tome for the low, low price of $2.95 … make that $1.95 … oh, what the hell, we’re never going to use it again. It’s yours for two pieces of Double-Bubble Gum. Let me know.

Savannah was America's first planned city and it was planned by the incredibly versatile and inventive General James Oglethorpe (no, not the really mean guy from the movie "Slapshot.") The wunderkind was Oxford educated, then elected to parliament at the tender age of 26. When he founded Georgia, he was aware of pressing social problems, so he enforced the following rules: no hard liquor, no slaves, no Catholics, and no lawyers. I think two of those were really good ideas, but I leave it to you, dear blogophile, to figure out which two. The General laid out the city in 1733 in a series of neighborhoods centered around 24 park-like squares, each measuring one block by one block. They’re spaced perfectly, laid out on a grid, all two blocks apart east-west and 3 blocks apart north-south, so no matter where you live in the city, you’re just a five-minute walk from a neighborhood green space. Pretty cool! Chippewa Square, the center square of Savannah (not “Hollywood Squares”), hosts the statue of General Oglethorpe.
Savannah has 2,200 homes of historical significance, many of them on our route, but since I can barely get you to stay with me for a paragraph or two, I think I’ll just give you the highlights:

-Also on Chippewa Square is where Forrest Gump sat on a bus bench while eating his box of chocolates. While the actual bench is in the Georgia History Museum, I did my best to re-enact that cinematically-historical moment.

-Cobblestone paved and canopied with oak and magnolia trees, Jones Street is considered one of the most beautiful streets in America;

-The Mercer-Williams House was built in the late 1800’s for the great grandfather of legendary song composer Johnny Mercer. It was later purchased by Jim Williams who the main character in the best selling novel/movie, "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" was based upon. He was played by Kevin Spacey if my memory serves me right.

-The Massie School was built in 1856 and used till 1974. In it, they had a replica of an 1850’s classroom, complete with a replica 1850’s dunce and cap.

-The "Jingle Bells" church was where that great and simple Christmas tune was written in the 1850's by prolific songwriter James Pierpont, music director at the Unitarian church.

-The 10,000 square-foot Hamilton-Turner Mansion is a home of great beauty with an extreme sense of mystery. It captured the keen interest of Walt Disney who, after a visit, used it as his inspiration for his infamous Disneyland/Disneyworld/Disneyunincorporated Village’s “The Haunted Mansion” ride. If you look closely, you can probably see the ghost of Walt at the nearby square’s fountain looking pensively at the Mansion.

-Diedre had to stop and pet the lions at the front steps of the Andrew Low house. Daughter-in-law Juliette Low inherited the house and on March 12, 1912, founded the Girl Scouts of the U.S.A. Cookies, anyone?

-The “Pirates' House” first opened in 1753 as a tavern for low-lifes such as pirates, grave-robbers, and Department of Motor Vehicles Window Clerks. The attached herb house and fireplace, built in 1734 for the gardener, makes this the oldest house in Georgia. It’s been said that writer Robert Louis Stevenson's inspiration for his great novel "Treasure Island" was inspired by this place, although I’m sure Diedre feels the food hasn’t improved much there in the past 261 years.

-On our RV travels of the past two years, my lovely bride has developed the habit of kissing strange men, although she assures me it’s just platonic. Here she is with Johnny Mercer who counts "Moon River" among the 1,400 songs he wrote. He was also co-founder of Capitol Records and was nominated for 18 Academy Awards for Best Song, winning four Oscars. Boy, I bet he could give Oglethorpe a run for his versatility-money.


That day’s massive walking tour totaled 8.9 miles as measured by Diedre’s new best friend, the Fit Bit. All I could say at the end of the day was, “WHEW! We need a beer! And so, it was on to the wonderful “Barracuda Bob's” restaurant where Diedre declared their bread pudding “the best ever!” Who was I to argue?

Not quite done with the day that would not end, we made our way back to Chippewa Square and the restored Savannah Theatre, the oldest (1818) theatre company in the United States. They’re still producing shows nightly. On this eve, they did one of those popular “Jukebox” shows that all the other kids … I mean, “theatres” are doing these days. I especially liked it since they did all songs I know (and have probably written parodies for) and there was much lively dancing.

Barely being able to find our way back to the RV since it had been so long, we took the next day for some much needed rest. Then on Saturday, it was back at it, finishing up the walking tour after a brief Civil War expedition to Fort McAllister.

On our last day in Savannah, we made our way out to Fort McAllister State Park. The fort had been beefed up pre-Civil War for the Confederate defense of Savannah and the Ogeechee River. The Gray held out for as long as they could (4 years) before becoming the last notch on General Sherman’s “March to the Sea” belt. Diedre can only take so much history, so she went off a-hiking while I checked out the fort. Since it was Memorial Day weekend, events by Civil War re-enactors were being held. I was able to see both musket firing and cannon firing before touring the fort. The sturdy fort is the best preserved earthwork fortification of the confederacy.
Highlights from Part 2 of the Savannah walking tour include:

-The William and Julia Scarborough House. He owned the first steamship to cross the Atlantic while she excelled in giving parties, many parties. Once, after President James Monroe gave a speech at the Savannah Theatre, a reception was to be held at the Scarborough's, a distance of one half-mile. Not wanting her guests to get their fine clothes all dusty, she had red carpet put down all the way from the theatre to the front steps of her home. Ever since then, she has been credited as the inspiration for the saying "roll out the red carpet." So, now you know.

 -“The Waving Girl” statue. Florence Martus, 1869-1943, lived with her brother who was the local lighthouse keeper on the Savannah River. Florence was her brothers keeper, so to speak (“housekeeper,” actually). She got in the habit of waving at every ship entering or leaving the harbor when she was 19 and kept it up until her death at age 74, thus acquiring the sobriquet of "The Waving Girl." She is pictured here with her twin sister, Flora, who bears a striking resemblance to DK.

We listened to a Memorial Day band for a bit and then went out to dinner at Hudson’s, a recommendation of all-around good guy-Michigander John Harberts.
So now, it’s on to bed before an early rise and our first visit to Charleston, South Carolina.
See y’all then.

AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 7 - Tampa

Our stay in Tampa was slated to be the longest amount of time (9 days) we'd spend in any one city this year. The only way we could get home baseball games in both Miami and Tampa was to do the state clockwise instead of counter-clockwise, a method used by many wagon trains in the 1800's. This necessitated us spending the two extra days in Tampa. It's all a math thing.      Saturday, May 10, the day after we arrived in Tampa, we were off again, this time to St. Petersburg, home of the American League Tampa Rays. Parking downtown well before that night's game, we walked the town, seeing the sites and getting our exercise. We stopped in at a local watering hole where it turned out that the talkative bartender (Is there any other kind?) was from Mount Pleasant, MI, home of my senior softball buddy, Jim Erickson, and his wife Carol. As you'll recall from your "Kaye & Stuart Blog History Coffee Table Book," we visited there last year. Anyway, this guy was born in 1967, so we figured he (the bartender) probably had Carol as an English teacher somewhere along the way ... which was really confusing because Carol's life profession was that of a plumber ... whatever.     We've found out that we've been doing this "parking" thing for baseball games backwards. For the game in Houston, we parked for FREE at Diedre's yoga studio; in Miami for the Marlins game, we parked in Little Havana, also for FREE. And now in St. Petersburg, we were also parking on the street FREE for the Rays game. So, after 3 major leagues games this spring, the only time we've paid for professional baseball parking was at the New Orleans Zephyrs MINOR-LEAGUE game ($5). Go figure. Of course, we paid $9 a beer at the major league parks, yet just $1 a beer at the Zephyrs game, soooooooo ... you win some, you lose some, ... and some are rained out.      I was apprehensive about this game, or at least the stadium. I had not heard good things about it, so I figured it would be mostly empty. But I was so wrong. The parking lot was full of a huge number of tailgaters, just like at a Minnesota Vikings' game. And virtually everybody was playing that beanbag game. The evening felt quite electric already.   The stadium was almost a dead ringer for the Minneapolis Metrodome, and that is certainly no compliment. Of the 19 current major league ballparks we've been to, it's easily the crummiest one so far, and that's using "crummiest" in the nicest possible way. Same dull white ceiling, same bomb-shelter concession hallways. Of course, there's two less World Series Championships there, so that puts Tampa behind the Metrodome in stadium rankings. (DK here - that's not poor photography - the AstroTurf is really in that bad of shape.  Just amazing after all the great parks we've been in that Tampa's was in such rough shape.)     On the plus side, they did have the wonderful "Ted Williams Hitters' Museum," magically transplanted from Hernando, FL, after the mighty slugger's death.  Ted had always been my 2nd favorite baseball hero following Hank Aaron. So in the middle of the game, I left my scorekeeping bride(scorekeeping keeps her from nodding off) in our first row, 2nd deck seats, and spent two innings touring Teddy Ballgame's museum. It was just an appetizer for me before seeing the real Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, NY, in August. That's when the fun really begins.      We're still having trouble deciphering the purpose of Tampa's give-away item that night: "DeeJay Kitty" hats. Apparently the You-Tube video of this cat spinning records has grabbed Tampa and allowed 30,000 allegedly "adult" people to wander the stadium wearing these idiotic hats suitable for a cool northern night.  It was all-around "weird."      We played the Cleveland Indians on our night. How unfair is it that, although it was just last summer when we cheered mightily for the Indians in Cleveland as they won a 10-inning thriller on a walk-off home run, so now did we have to cheer AGAINST the Tribe as we, as always, support the local team, thus avoiding any fistfights with local inebriated die-hards (I think this sentence started out as a question ... I'll have to check on it and get back to you)?      Tampa won 7-1 as three pitchers combined on a wonderful 3-hitter. The Rays used a pitcher at the end named "Grant Balfour" (Ball Four?). That's a weird name, especially for a pitcher. You think a few people have mentioned it to him while he's been plying his life's work? Of course, it all evens out. The Indians first-baseman was named "Steve Swisher" as in "Swish! He strikes out!" So when Balfour faced Swisher, who could tell what was going to happen ... a strikeout or a walk? Perhaps the end of life as we know it? Makes you think ... or not. Either way, this made our (home team) record this year 3-1. The other score you may be interested in for us: Theatre Performances Attended-6, Baseball Games-4.     Diedre's big sister, Goldy, lives in Tampa with her jovial husband Mac, a retired U.S. Marine Lieutenant Colonel ... again, is any Marine ever really "retired"? They treated us to a sumptuous Mothers' Day brunch at their clubhouse. And Goldy even had time to fix (sew) two of my finer T-shirts: "I'm With Stupid" and "Spam: It's Not Just for Breakfast Anymore."  This gal is a wizard with the needle and thread. When Diedre and I were first married, Goldy came to visit us for two weeks. I had been saving up all our clothing in need of repair; it filled two grocery bags easily. I figured she'd be able to finish all of it in the two weeks she was visiting. So, I gave it to her on night one of her visit. And the morning of day two, she came to me and asked, "Do you have any more sewing for me?"      Yes, she had finished it all that night, much like Rumplestiltskin spinning straw into gold ... or something like that. Amazing!          Monday, May 12, was a difficult day for Diedre. It was her first visit back to University Village, the last place in Tampa that Barty, her mom, had lived after spending 32 years in Florida. Barty had passed away in July of 2012 after an all-family reunion in Tampa just weeks earlier. This place evoked a lot of memories for us, some good, some not so good.      Once there, Diedre had the wonderful chance to meet up with some long-time friends of her Mom's: Linda Charikas and the Gentiles, Gino and Maria. The Gentiles were planning to return the next day to Michigan for good, so DK's timing couldn't have been better. They were one of the first couples that Diedre's parents met when moving to Tampa from Minneapolis after retirement in 1980. Gino and Maria had even made it all the way up north to our Hawaiian wedding in Minneapolis in 1991.  I know, I know, Hawaiian wedding in Minneapolis?  You had to be there.   Unfortunately, Maria's having some heart problems, so they've decided to move back to Michigan to be nearer family after 30+ years in Tampa. DK was so glad to see them one last time. They had been such incredible friends to the whole Diederich family over the years.      On Tuesday after a quick manicure (Diedre's, not mine), we headed downtown to hike the city's fun "Riverwalk." After all our years coming to visit the parents in Tampa, we had never really seen the downtown area, so that was what we were going to do that day. In addition to the 5-6 miles we would walk, we also each got our own peculiar brands of physical exercise in: me wrestling an alligator and DK opting for the more sane "Alligator yoga."      As we walked along the scenic river way, we enjoyed reading off the names of the obscenely large boats anchored nearby. Our favorites were "Bada Bing," "Filthy Rich," and "Little Nauti." We also marveled at the minarets atop the Plant Museum on the campus of Tampa University.   An exciting Wednesday started off badly when DK awoke and discovered that the previous day's manicure had been badly botched. Not one to take things lying down (except for a massage, perhaps), Diedre put out a Yelp All-Points' Bulletin on the cut-rate "Nail and Welding Foundry." She demanded double her money back just for the aggravation. In the end, they agreed to clip my ingrown toe-nails and call it square.          Recovering our poise, we headed south. Our first stop was Fort Myers and a tour of the Thomas Edison/Henry Ford Winter Estates. It was here in Fort Myers that Edison worked on perfecting his incandescent light bulb. Edison had bought this land in 1885 when Fort Myers was indeed a one-horse town. He predicted great things for the city, and as was usual for Edison, he was right.      Henry Ford, as a young man, had actually worked for Edison's company as an engineer. As he became more successful, he and Edison became first student-mentor and then friends. Ford purchased the Fort Myers home next door to Edison in 1916. It provided him the opportunity to vacation with his mentor and friend. Here's a picture of me with buddy Thomas Alva Edison. As usual with these kind of pictures, the stiff one is me.       The Fords and the Edison's took a camping trip to the Everglades in 1914, and this was when Holiday Inns and Burger Kings were just a pair of bad dreams. They roughed it, at least as rough as multi-millionaires could back in those days. They had rain ... a lot of rain. Edison's son wrote the following limerick about the trip:      Consumption, pneumonia, and grippe      will be the result of this trip.      We'll all die together      from the inclement weather      and the doormat of heaven will drip.      OK, here are a few fun facts I learned about the Wizard of Menlo Park: 1. Edison is the only inventor to file a patent every year for 65 CONSECUTIVE years! 2. He had 1,093 patents. SHOW-OFF! 3. Edison liked baseball; in the late 1920's, the Philadelphia Athletics held spring training in nearby Clearwater, FL. Edison loved to go down and watch the workouts. He even took a few swings while Connie Mack, the Athletics ancient manager, played catcher. 4. He was really into botany. Orchids (which I did not know are "epiphytes" (air plants) do not require soil to grow; they need only air, decomposing matter, and rainwater. They actually grow well on mango trees, the prefect host. Edison had a ton of these cross-bred trees on his property. 5. Speaking of botany, Edison's property has a banyan tree that is considered to be the largest one in the continental U.S. It was a gift from Harvey Firestone in 1925. Amazingly, Edison, Ford, and Firestone, three giants of industry, actually worked together to find a natural source of rubber that could be grown in the U.S. 6. His favorite invention was the phonograph, although I'm not sure he'd be all that happy with rap music nowadays.      Edison's all-consuming purpose for his inventions was to transform middle class life. I think a thank-you is in order here, especially for that little electric light bulb that goes on whenever you open your refrigerator door. His quote, "The world owes nothing to any man, but every man owes something to the world," resonates, especially so today.        Our other reason for heading south on this day was to have lunch with one of Minnesota's great softball names, the legendary Monty Stuhler. I started playing ball for Monty's teams in 1971 when I was 20. He was an old man of 31 then, but he was great to be around. His teams always competed well, although he was fairly liberal when it came to his 20-man roster. The standard joke about Monty was that when a tournament director asked for Monty's roster, he'd just toss him a copy of the Minneapolis phone directory. I played ball for Monty for over 20 years. He always batted himself last, yet probably got as many clutch hits as anybody on the team. And you didn't play for Monty if you weren't willing to go out after the game and tip back a few. He was a legendary character. Most of his exploits are detailed in my first novel, "Single Elim," and the lead character of my first play, "Buzzard Ball," is named, appropriately enough, "Monty." Here I am with Monty, now a permanent resident of Cape Coral, FL, with a copy of my book. While I love what we're doing now, I often become wistful at memories of the crazy old days playing small-town softball tournaments and going out afterwards with Monty and the guys.  We made it back to the Tampa area in time to get our walk in before the rains came. We decided to hike at Lettuce Lake Park and its wonderful 3,500 feet of boardwalk. It was one of Barty's favorite places to walk with us.  DK made one of our usual $5 bets, this one being that I wouldn't dare to go up to the park ranger and ask him if this was "Le-TOOS Leaf Park?"  As you can tell, Diedre lost that bet.     Thursday was a day for Diedre to use Goldy's kitchen to do some serious cooking for AB1 and the following weeks in Savannah and Charleston. Then later Goldy and I dressed as "The Coral Florals" before going out to dinner with our less spectacularly clad spouses.      This was also the day my recently retired brother, Mark, and his wife Linda left on their way to Arizona where they are getting their winter residence ready for their escape from Minnesota's dread-awful winter. They'll be a 15-minute walk away from us as neighbors of ours in the lovely Terravita sub-division.      Friday we (Diedre) returned the favor to Mac and Goldy by cooking out for them at the RV park. Then the next day, our last in Tampa, we made it out to Brandon to see yet another of my wacky Carleton College classmates, Craig Kaemmer. This guy was, and is, a real character. We met his lovely bride Mary for the first time.  It might have been the liquor, but I'm pretty sure I heard something about her having been born in the back of a pick-up truck at Talladega Raceway.  Who knows?  They then regaled us with stories about their two kids, Katy and Joseph Arthur Craig Kaemmer. A nice, new, crisp $50-bill goes to the first person who can figure out why they call him Jack.      Oh? You figured it out already? OK then, let's make it 50-cents. You gotta love that.      Being the consummate hosts, they made a wonderful dinner for us. Being an opposite-of-consummate guest, I interrupted our conversation time by asking to watch the Preakness, the second jewel of horse racing's triple crown. Craig joined me as we cheered on California Chrome to his second victory while the ladies gabbed on, probably about mopping or sweeping.  And a bonus of going to the Kaemmers' was that we were finally able to decide what to do with those furshlugginer DeeJay Kitty hats we got at the Rays' game.      I'll end this screed with an appropriate quote from Neal Postman, brilliant social observer, who once wrote, "Education as we know it began with the printing press. It ended with television."      I have no idea what that means. Besides, I have to go now. There's a "Bonanza" re-run on that I've just got to see.      Later, in Savannah ...

AB1 Tour 2014 - Week 6 - Miami

Oh, Miami, we were going to do so much in your beautiful seaside town: jai alai; Jungle Island (where they have "Hercules," a "liger," which is a cross between a lion and a tiger.  I had to see it.  And then, what next?  A griffin, maybe?  That would be part lion, part eagle for you Greek mythologically-challenged); dinner at the legendary Joe's Stone Crab; Gulfstream Park now that we're so fired up about California Chrome and his wonderful Kentucky Derby run-for-the-roses; and the Jackie Gleason Center for the Performing Arts.  Yes, we missed seeing any or all of these.  It was due to a run of bad fortune combined with horrendous traffic, expensive fees, our loss of a day to St. Augustine, and our general all-around RV-induced malaise.  What are the odds?
   

 We did, however, accomplish our main reason for including Miami on our Sisyphusian summer schedule: we got to see a baseball game in Miami's brand spanking new (2011) baseball stadium.  So if you're keeping a Kaye and Stuart official scorecard, you can cross off #18 on our list of 30 major league baseball stadiums which we'll be seeing by September, 2015 (or bust), or at least it will be so until idiot Atlanta builds another new stadium (has to be their 4th one in 11 years) and then our list of seeing all 30 major league ballparks will revert to 29.  No backsies.
     OK, I was going to tell you that since we were only going to be in Miami four short days, that this edition of the "Kaye & Stuart Blog" would be mercifully short ... but I guess that ship has already sailed judging by what I've already written.
     Bygones.
     Monday, May 5, was our travel day.  Our one-day delay meant we didn't have a day to recover like we usually do when laying vacational siege to some major city (like New York, Philadelphia, or Blooming Prairie, MN ... hi O.B.  Remember the Blossoms' cheerleader?).  That meant that we were up and at it immediately the next morning with our long commute into town to see the Miami Marlins game.  No rest for the wicked or the retired.
     

We got to town early enough to snag one of the last free parking spots in one of the last free parking lots in any major city in the world.  It was the section of town called "Little Havana," a scant 10-block walk from the ballpark.  We wandered Little Havana hoping to get a real "Guys and Dolls" feel for the island nation.  Instead, we got a feel more for East Dubuque, Iowa, a tough town if I've ever seen one (and I don't think I have).  Instead of a real Cuban dinner in Little Havana, which we weren't able to find, we instead opted for the fine dining experience of "haute ballpark cuisine."  I couldn't have been happier.  Diedre wearily shook her head and went along with the program.
     

The two-time world champion Miami Marlins are playing in major league baseball's newest stadium (built in 2011).  It was huge, spectacular, somewhat stark, and mostly devoid of fans.  Their main attraction was a bobblehead museum.
     Go figure.
     The Marlins hosted the New York Mets on our night.  With a nice job of shutout pitching by the locals' 2nd year pitcher with the British-Hispanic name of Henderson Alvarez, the Fish prevailed 3-0. Young Miami strongman Giancarlo Stanton absolutely crushed the ball every time the Mets would actually pitch to him (2 walks and 2 base hits).  Attendance was 18,315 in the 37,000 soul stadium, although most of those in attendance seemed to be disguised as empty seats (I know, I know, old joke).
     

The real excitement of the evening came later that night back at the homestead (RVstead?) when our youngest and only female feline Samantha made her long-awaited break for freedom.  One moment she was there, and the next, she was a gone cat.
     A "Snowshoe" by breed which means her abnormally long white feet really do look like snowshoes, Samantha became the first of our three cats to escape from the previously impregnable AB1, better known in cat-speak as "The Al-cat-raz RV."  Her quest for freedom reminded me a lot of Andy Dufrene in that great prison movie,"The Shawshank Redemption."  Samantha had actually clawed a hole in the RV wall, then took the crumblings and hid them in her litter box so we wouldn't realize what she was doing.  I'm not making this up ... well, most of it anyway.  Finally on a night with a big storm ...
     No, no, that's not right.
   

(DK - Does this really look like someone ready to bolt?)

 Actually, the door was left unlatched when ONE of us went to the camp bathhouse to take a shower. Now, I'm not going to say which one of us risked the life of our poor, sweet little girl, although most of you can figure it out, what with my aversion to soap and water being fairly well known.  So when the door was left minutely open, Samantha was out in a flash.  Alleged brains of the cat mob Charlie stood hesitantly at the door debating whether to make his break for freedom or go have a much-needed lie-down on the couch.  Meanwhile, adorable middle child Casey was lying on top of the refrigerator absently counting his toes.
     It took me five solid minutes to finally apprehend Samantha. I was a real bloodhound. Sammy was like an escaped convict in one of those old fashioned prison movies where they're dressed in black striped uniforms. I continually pursued, she continually escaped.  She went under the RV ... I went under the RV ... She went under the Honda ... I went under the Honda ... she went under the picnic table ... I went under the picnic table ... She went under the Boardwalk ... "Under the boardwalk, out by the sea" ... no, wait, that's a 60's song.
     Anyway, you must remember how good cats are at responding to verbal commands. Unfortunately, their response to most any verbal command is a casual yawn and a look that snidely translates as "REALLY?" They then inevitably roll onto their backs and await the expected tummy rubs.
     I finally caught up with our facile feline when her extra poundage had her tiring of the chase.  I nabbed her quickly, at least as quickly as any good 63-year old retiree can nab a wayward pet, and returned her to the RV prison where the punishment meted out consisted of a snack and a spirited game of "Bird."  Her distracted meows that night sounded like she was saying "SCHEREZADE!" (You'll have to ask our actress friend and Early Bird Special comedienne, Alaina Beauloye, what that means.)
     I just received an email of such earthshaking importance that I know you, meaning every God-fearing dessert lover in the tri-state area, will want to know about.  Las Vegas, home of all that is decadent and depraved, has finally come up with something that is good, decent, and wholesome for every non-diabetic you know.  They have just announced ... drum roll, please ... wait for it ... OK, now ...
     HERSHEY'S CHOCOLATE WORLD!!!
   

 Yes, Las Vegas, that massive den of iniquity, is now becoming the sugar capital of the world.  Already sporting a four-floor M&M's Museum and Gift Shop (emphasis on the "shop"), they are now in the process of building a two-story destination site featuring all things HERSHEY'S.  It will be located at the New York-New York Hotel and Casino. The retail experience will offer guests a chance to create their own HERSHEY’S happiness through a variety of interactive experiences such as customizing candy wrappers and personalizing HERSHEY’S Kisses plumes.  There's also talk of a chocolate dunk tank, but the waiting list for that is already two years long.
     OK, back to real blog news.
     

On Thursday, we made our way out of the city and into that vast moray of mud, swamp-water, and the creepy crawlies.  No, it wasn't an invite to Kanye West and whichever Kardashian's wedding.  Better than that.  It was the Everglades National Park, a place I had always wanted to see.  And our little Grand Canyon hiker was only too glad to join me and strengthen those leg muscles wading through thigh-deep bogs while fighting off the occasional, now full grown, toilet-flushed Burmese python.  Oh, do I know how to woo a girl!
     Instead of one big hike like we've taken at so many other national parks, we instead took a series of short hikes to totally different types of trails, each with its own unique take on flora AND fauna (Didn't want you to forget the "fauna.")  At the first trail head, we ran across a sign indicating a precaution we had never heard about before.

Bird diapers ... what will they think of next?
     After safely ensuring the safety of our trusty steed, Zippy, we started off on the "Anhinga Trail," so named for the Anhinga bird.  He's an interesting guy; he gets so wet diving for fish that he can't fly, so he awkwardly stands in the sun and flexes his wings like an avian Arnold Schwarzenegger to try to get them to dry off.  This trail was also great for spotting alligators in the wild, as opposed to alligators in your rumpus room.
   

    Pinelands, the next trail, was teeming with a subtropical pine forest.  Yes, I said "pine" forest in the Everglades, full of bogs and swamps.  Evergreen trees?  Not a picture I had even considered.  Who'd a thunk it?
     From there, it was on to the Mahogany Hammock Trail.  Clambering over about two miles of boardwalk (no song here) at the base of these massive trees growing in the swamp made me feel like Han Solo on the planet of the Ewoks.  (Cue Diedre to roll her eyes).  

But my favorite tree, a bare, red barked beauty, was the lyrically named "gumbo-lingo tree."  Kind of reminds me of that great Dodger pitcher from the 40's, Van Lingle Mungo.
     The Everglades is one huge-ass park.  What I didn't realize, in fact, is that the lower half of the park, virtually the entire southern tip of Florida, is more water than land ... a lot like the basement in our Minnesota house.  This area is made up of nothing but keys, and these are not the ones leading down to Key West. There's so many, I think they ran out of names for them.  There are the keys that sound like a bunch of guys playing poker and after drinking too much beer, decided to go out and name some keys after themselves: Frank Key, Clive Key, Roscoe Key, Sid Key, Bob Key, and Russell Key.  Animals are well represented here: Rabbit Key, Eagle Key, Deer Key, Pelican Key, and, of course, the everything is just "Duck Key."  Speaking of animals, there's a particularly treacherous spot in the area where there starts to be more land than water.  It's an area one should probably avoid: the unholy triumvirate of Shark Point, Alligator Point, and the most feared Minnesota attack animal of them all, Mosquito Point.
     And then there are the really odd names: Twin Keys (Twinkies?) and Gopher Keys (after our great Minnesota sports teams), Spy Key, East Key and West Key (not Key West), Dildo Key (Now what were they thinking there?),  and the only Russian key, Passkey Down the Streetskey. (That one's for you Marx Brothers fans).
     But I digress (Ya' think?!)
     See you in Tampa!