Days 9 & 10 - Miami Beach

I saw twenty seconds of a shot of weather in Detroit yesterday, so I'll go lightly on bitching about the clouds and cool temperatures here. It was still warm enough to spend 3+ hours in the sun. Didn't even need the beach umbrella that I rented for the day. Funny how paying $20 a day for a chaise and umbrella used to seem too expensive to consider and now it's a foregone conclusion. Laying in the sand at my age? I might never get up. There was a very stiff sea breeze that made the cloudiness all the more chilling, but I had no thoughts of shortening my daily routine. People watching was abysmal. Save for one earth shattering event. I saw the Girl from Ipenema again in the exact same outfit - black straw hat and tiny bikini and with a guy!! And not a stud but Pudgy Parchesi. He was so unremarkable that I did a double take. As if that wasn't enough to destroy the fantasy, she grabs him and kisses him! You know, on the mouth! Only one thing can explain this: Hey, must be the money!

Once again I felt extraordinarily healthy. The sun hath much magic in it. After 3+ hours in the sun and clouds, I folded my tent and decided to head to South Beach -- on foot. That's from 41st to 16st and 6 blocks east. I was headed back to Lincoln Street Mall -- which the Virtual Tourist web site told be was where the sophisticated crowd was now hanging out -- in search of those New Balance shoes. The fact that the pair of Asics trainers I was wearing started to hurt my feet made my buying decision easy. I found Foot Locker and got a lot of help from some really nice people. I tried New Balance -- god, they are ugly! -- and Puma before buying some very high end Nike's and some cushioned inserts. I felt great. I fell in behind a lovely young woman in red short shorts and Roman sandals. Again I shed a silent tear for my lost youth. Oh to be young again. I had dinner at the same place as Friday night -- I'm a creature of habit -- and had 2/3 of a Hawaiian pizza. Just one slice too many. When I finished I was concerned about walking for an hour back to the hotel because after dinner is one of my worst times for lightheadedness. But, no worries, I strutted all the way in my new $160 running shoes and felt great. Tired, but great. But I left Lincoln Street wondering where the hell the beautiful people were. I mean they do have to eat before club hopping don't they? The people that were there were to busy preening for each other to give a second look at a Shaky Old Bitch. In fact I've been wondering what has happened to me. I used to get looks all the time. You know, eye contact and smiles. I guess the aging professor look isn't big outside Ann Arbor. I finally drew two big smiles from women walking with their husbands on the Boardwalk. By the way, how does that work? If the husband stared at another woman there'd be hell to pay. Not so for the wife. Probably because the husband is fucking clueless.

Here's one of those thing you don't say out loud. I am damn proud of myself for taking these adventures and doing all this driving and walking and managing my quality of life to the highest standard. Many people with health problems role over and play dead -- and the thought of seeking out new opinions and possible advice and treatment isn't even considered. I intend to bust my ass for as long as I can keeping my quality of life high.

Sunday was much warmer. I spent 18 minutes in the sun -- nine on each side -- and three hours in the shade. It was perfect. Thus we come to the mammal pictured above on the left. I had to be very cautious so she wouldn't know I was taking her picture -- probably doesn't happen every day. I cannot look at that picture without laughing. Apparently she was comfortable with her body and she didn't give a fuck what you think. Later I noticed the lovely gent whom I called a hillbilly retard a couple of blogs ago. And what was his beach attire? Same dirty baggy jeans with clip on suspenders and WalMart knit shirt. I looked again at him and I realized the poor son of a bitch is alone and looks lost. By the way, a belly measuring contest between Mr. Clip on Suspenders and Mrs. Book Propped on Her Belly would have required a photo finish. Either one of them could smuggle a compact car in their belly. At least they make me feel less like the fucking Buddha-belly when I sit down.

I finished sunbathing and was determined to find the TV images that are South Beach. A little review of that same site I mentioned before clued me in to Ocean Drive. Actually I had walked up Ocean Drive for a few blocks on Saturday but didn't notice that I was in lala land. I got in my car and headed south. I turned onto the northern end of Ocean Drive. Oops! Lots of very expensive cars not moving more than inches per minute. Even as mellow as I am now, after twenty minutes to go three short blocks I headed off to the west looking for parking. Wham. Dead stop again. I finally found a place to park for 15 bucks and considered it a blessing. I set out on foot to Ocean and 5th and shazam! Art Deco hotels out the butt. All with sidewalk cafes with the sidewalk traffic walking right down the rows of tables. People shoulder to shoulder. Sunday night was jumping. Walked the whole length of Ocean and back. Again I found no one willing to even look at a Shaky Old Bitch from Michigan, but being invisible wasn't all that bad. To repeat myself, I really like it being in the minority -- since I can't understand Spanish I don't have to listen to any dumbshit conversations like in the restaurant the other night.

I know this is riddled with typos, sorry. Thanks for reading.