Tag: Florida

My Little Refrigerator

I mention it was in the dark, because I was amazed… no, make that disgusted… when I finally moved it to the other side of the studio, again behind a flat, when we redid the weather area a few months ago.

PIC-0044When my parents moved to Florida nearly a decade ago, I took their little basement refrigerator. After years of service to them, it was placed in the dark behind a set in the studio.

I mention it was in the dark, because I was amazed… no, make that disgusted… when I finally moved it to the other side of the studio. It was kicked out of its old spot during remodelling, but is again behind a studio flat.

Under the light, years of grunge and God knows what else became obvious. I found some paper towels and cleaner and had at it. Its level of filth would have fit perfectly during my bachelor years, but not the shirt and tie era!

It has not been defrosted since I moved it out of my folks’ basement. The freezer is now a solid chunk of ice the size of a microwave oven. That makes it a less efficient appliance.

Tonight, with the help of one of our floor crew, I moved it into the garage where it can finally defrost. I’m thinking 24 hours of dripping on the concrete floor should be enough.

Having your own personal refrigerator at work is a real luxury, and at the same time, a pain-in-the-ass. The luxury part is obvious. The pain part a little less so.

I let people store their drinks in it and even ‘borrow&#185’ mine. I don’t allow food.

You know how it is. People forget they’ve stowed a sandwich and soon you’ve got a science project growing!

There’s a big sign on the door reminding people not to put food in it. Still, I throw out food as soon as I see it, usually once a week or more.

It’s funny how something inconsequential like this little ‘fridge can be so important in making my work hours a little easier. I hope my folks don’t need it back.

Blogger’s addendum: 24 hours later, the freezer was still iced up! I went at it with an industrial hot air gun. Twenty minutes later, good to go.

&#185 – Borrowing is allowed, though except for a fellow meteorologist, no one has ever replaced anything they’ve taken – ever.

New Haven Magazine

When I begin to read back an interview, the first thing I do is check to make sure I haven’t made a fool of myself. It’s easy to talk without thinking and come off pompous. I worked with an anchor who was always “misquoted,” even though we knew they were her words. That’s what I’m talking about. I’d rather not have to distance myself from what I said.

Geoff_in a monitorI’m in print and astounded. Mitch Young of New Haven Magazine asked if he could interview me a few weeks ago. That interview is in the current issue (though, alas, not online).

It was interesting for me to read, because my words were hardly edited… if he edited me at all. I got to see some stories I often tell verbally, actually written. That’s strange.

When I begin to read back an interview, the first thing I do is check to make sure I haven’t made a fool of myself. It’s easy to talk without thinking and come off pompous.

I worked with an anchor who was always “misquoted,” even though we knew they were her words. That’s what I’m talking about. I’d rather not have to distance myself from what I said.

Thankfully, not too many stupid statements, though one of my co-workers said he wouldn’t have used the word “ass.” It was not an anatomical reference.

There’s also a worry how my parents will react when they see I say their Florida condo celebrates New Years Eve at 7:30 PM? They know it’s a joke… right… don’t you?

What makes this more special is the addition of a full page photo from Steve Blazo.

My head will stop swelling sometime in the next day or two – honest. In the meantime, I’m trying to snatch as many copies as I can find.

Geoff_-4970.jpg

I Used To Smoke Cigarettes

I smoked for 18 years and permanently quit the first time I tried. I didn’t even want to quit. I’m not trying to show off. That’s just how it happened for me.

I stopped for gas in East Haven. I was on my way to work from getting a haircut. Francine is the Queen of Hair, though if I didn’t stop her, she would play with each individual strand until it was perfect.

Anyway… I stopped for gas and there was a large sign in the parking lot. A sale on cigarettes – $5.20 a pack. Holy crap.

It’s been a long time since I smoked, but I do remember some benchmarks.

When I began to smoke, probably early 1969, a single pack in a vending machine was 40&#162. I was astounded in finding a vending machine at the WHDH-TV studios in Boston that sold them for 35&#162.

Driving to Florida in 1970, I stopped in North Carolina and bought a few cartons for under $3 a piece. Gasoline was probably 34.9&#162/gallon back then.

I smoked a pack and a half a day when I quit. Let’s see… $5 per pack is $50 per week or $2,500 a year. That’s crazy.

I have been told quitting cigarettes is incredibly difficult. I smoked for 18 years and permanently quit the first time I tried. And I didn’t even want to quit. I’m not trying to show off. That’s just how it happened for me.

It was pre-Stef, and Helaine was getting very upset, telling me how I was going to die and we’d have a child to think about. My people are good with guilt.

My first attempt at quitting was was to just cut back, which I did successfully for one day.

11:00 PM rolled around and I was sitting on the news set with our sports anchor, Bob Picozzi and our anchor, John Lindsay&#185. The news began with a single wide shot. Bob and I were ‘set parsley.’

Proudly, I told John I had cut down to only eight for the entire day. And he said, “You can’t do that. After a few days you’ll start ramping up. You’ve got to say, I quit now. I’ve already smoked my last cigarette”

As if in some Hollywood movie, the newscast’s theme music swelled, John turned to the camera and began to read. I sat and pondered.

That night, I came home to our condo in Branford. Helaine was in the kitchen. I took my pack of cigarettes, banged it on the table and said, “I quit.”

She had no clue what I was talking about. I explained.

For the next few months, there were carrots and celery and something to keep me busy. Helaine was amazingly supportive. Neighbors of ours, he a young physician at Yale/New Haven, prescribed Nicorette (back then, by prescription only).

Within a week or two, I notice my sense of smell had improved. The next cold I had made a much quicker passage through my system.

I’m sure there has been some damage done by all the smokes. I hope it’s not too much.

I’ve never missed my cigarettes. I never had a desire to return. I can’t understand why anyone starts now, if for no other reason than the expense.

$5.20 a pack. That’s a sale? They’re kidding, right?

&#185 – John Lindsay was on my mind yesterday. He had one of the briefest stays of the myriad anchors I’ve worked with. He also had a small part as a TV anchorman in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” It was on TV yesterday.

Who Has It Worse?

It was six above as I pulled in the garage. We’ve haven’t bottomed out quite yet. Last night was comparably cold.

I walked in the house and it was warm. Sure, I’m burning twenties in the furnace, but it’s comfy here. We are equipped to deal with New England winters.

Let me contrast that with Florida.

RECORD EVENT REPORT

NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE MELBOURNE

455 PM EST THU JAN 03 2008

…BELIEVE IT OR NOT…

…RECORD DAILY MAXIMUM SNOWFALL SET AT DAYTONA BEACH…

A FEW SNOW FLURRIES WERE REPORTED ALONG THE VOLUSIA COUNTY COAST

FROM AROUND 7 AM TO 930 AM THIS MORNING. A BRIEF FLURRY OCCURRED AT

THE OFFICAL CLIMATE SITE…THE DAYTONA BEACH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT.

THE RESULT OF THIS FLURRY IS A RECORD SNOWFALL OF A TRACE. THIS OF

COURSE PILED HIGHER THAN THE OLD RECORD FOR THIS DATE OF NONE.

2001.

NWS record reports usually don’t come with humor. Obviously, tonight in the East, none come with warmth.

Are Forecasters Liable?

Drudge has linked to an article from a Central Florida TV station that’s interesting and worrisome.

Hotel Mogul Threatens Lawsuit Over Hurricane Expert’s Gloomy Forecasts

Rosen: Fla. Lost Billions Of Dollars Because Of Incorrect Storm Outlook

I’m a non-believer in seasonal forecasts because I think, by and large, they’re awful – aka, inaccurate. By the way, the same goes for all the Global Warming hype.

Here’s what I wrote to a viewer earlier tdoay:

Viewer: I’m just wondering what the outlook is for the 2007-08 winter season. A lot of snow, not much but colder. I heard we arent’ going to get much snow. Please advise. Thanks.

Geoff: I don’t believe in them. We don’t currently have the skill. Most long range forecasts end in embarrassment for the forecaster.

Should there be a monetary downside to a bad prediction? Neither Gray nor anyone other forecaster claims divine insight and 100% accuracy. He used the best techniques known to science.

More importantly, I don’t think anyone expects 100% accuracy.

I tend to think Harris Rosen’s rhetoric is bluster and no more… but who knows? Maybe he does have a case. I’m sure there’s a lawyer willing to help him.

But why go after Dr. Gray? There are other seasonal hurricane forecasts from forecasters with deeper pockets. AccuWeather comes to mind, though there are probably others.

I’ve got a dollar that says the attorney won’t forecast the outcome nor guarantee it.

Continue reading “Are Forecasters Liable?”

On Our Anniversary, We’re On The Radio

Today is Helaine and my 24th wedding anniversary. That was reason enough to head to Milford, and the WPLR studios to join Chaz and AJ on-the-air.

Actually, the story begins in September.

Helaine and I were driving to Long Island to catch a plane for Florida and my mom’s birthday. Chaz and AJ were on the radio talking about marriage and anniversaries. I picked up my phone and dialed their number.

A few seconds later I was on-the-air, schmoozing away. The conversation was good – in other words, they let me have my way, telling any story I wanted and dominating the conversation.

Hey, I admit it.

Finally, they asked how long I’d been married. I told them 24 years as of November 24th.

A millisecond later, Helaine’s voice bellowed from the seat next to me. “26th, a**hole.”

OK, that’s probably not a good mistake to make. I have no excuses. Guys mostly understand. Women mostly don’t.

It was with that conversation in mind that Chaz and AJ invited us on this morning. Jesse, the producer, arranged for us to be on from 8-9:00 AM.

Helaine was nervous. She’d never been on-the-air. The closer we came, the more she dreaded her decision. She did what she could to guarantee they’d like her. She baked!

Early this morning, in the rain and gloom, we headed out. I carried “Clicky,” my camera. Helaine carried two trays of baked goods.

Trust me – Helaine’s baked goods are irresistible. Her cakes and cookies could easily diffuse tensions in the Middle East. And two disk jockeys? Please, they were on their way to being putty in her hands!

We headed up to the studio a little before 8:00. Chaz and AJ use three studios. Chaz is in one, with Billy Winn. AJ is in another. Producer Jesse is in a third.

It took Helaine a few seconds, but she quickly warmed up to be on the radio. She was dynamite. We retold most of our ‘standard’ fare: How I resisted commitment. How we negotiated a wedding date. How all men are pond scum!

All the good stuff is about my shortcomings.

It’s tough to tell, but I think we were a success. And, I think the radio bug spread a little from me to Helaine.

In the past we’ve discussed what it might be like to do a husband/wife morning show on-the-air. This was our chance to see if it had any promise at all. It does.

That’s not to say we’ll ever really do it, but it’s fun to think about. It’s certainly something that could be done without hurting my ‘day job.’

When our hour ended, I asked if we could have an aircheck. That disk should be coming within the next few days and we’ll have a better chance to assess exactly how we did.

No matter what, it was a lot of fun. And, though it might not sound romantic in the abstract, being with Helaine… having a good time… made it a perfect part of our anniversary celebration.

Blogger’s note: Earlier today, some of the photos posted on the site might not have been visible. If you ever run into empty boxes or other things that don’t look Kosher, would you please let me know?

Yeah – It’s Winter

Welcome to my hell season! Winter has arrived.

The calendar says not yet, but the forecast says otherwise. There’s a chance for a little frozen precipitation early tomorrow morning. A little bit of slick stuff is just as bad as a lot, maybe worse!

My parents in Florida, cousins in Florida and other friends in warm places are probably laughing now. Stop it. I can hear you, damn it!

I remember laughing myself years ago when I lived in Florida. Back then my favorite TV viewing was the hand cream, snow tire and other wintry product commercials that were seen on network shows.

It’s different watching it from afar and living it up close and personal! Trust me – they’ve got it better in California and Florida.

Oh – there’s one more thing about winter weather. It’s a killer to accurately predict. I suffer through that too.

Looking In The Desert

I’m back out by the fire pit, writing the blog in the almost chilly late evening air. Palm Springs has been very cool, at least by their standards.

WEATHER ITEM   OBSERVED TIME   RECORD YEAR NORMAL DEPARTURE LAST

VALUE   (LST)  VALUE       VALUE  FROM      YEAR

NORMAL

..................................................................

TEMPERATURE (F)

TODAY

MAXIMUM         82    258 PM 111    1996  95    -13       86

MINIMUM         65    550 AM  38    1932  64      1       55

AVERAGE         74                        79     -5       71

PRECIPITATION (IN)

TODAY            0.00          0.00 2002   0.01  -0.01     0.00

2001

1998

MONTH TO DATE    0.00                      0.07  -0.07     0.00

SINCE JUL 1      0.12                      1.05  -0.93     0.40

SINCE JAN 1      0.19                      4.29  -4.10     1.71

That’s 13&#176 below average and only .2″ rain since January 1!

Toward sunset tonight, there were a very few thin cirrus patches. It’s likely the official observation read: clear. In any event, they’re the first clouds we’ve seen.

Among the reasons for our trip, to see if we’d like to live here some day – maybe for retirement. Florida is very nice, but very humid and buggy. The desert is neither, but of course, blast oven hot for much of the summer.

A friend recommended a real estate agent and we spent the afternoon with her.

I was apprehensive at first. I can’t imagine Helaine was any more confident going in. But, it was a very good experience and I think we have a better understanding of what we can and can’t do. And, it looks like what we can do is what we’d like to do.

This valley seems to have nothing but rapid growth. There’s construction everywhere, both residential and business.

We got back to the hotel. By this time, having skipped breakfast, Helaine was starved. I asked Larry, who owns the place, where we should eat and he suggested Al Dente, downtown.

It was a five minute drive and there was parking out front. It is not like this in the season. October is still a slow time in Palm Springs.

We sat outside for dinner, right on North Palm Canyon Drive. There were still a few motorcyclists left from this weekend’s convention and they made a throaty gargling sound as they drove by.

Helaine had a pasta dish with fresh tomatoes. I ordered celery soup, thickened with potatoes and the stuffed chicken special. The soup was excellent and the chicken was very good and really moist. The service was attentive. What’s not to like?

This is a city built on tourism and people in the hospitality industry here understand that.

We’re really having a very nice time, but we’ll only be here until Tuesday morning before heading back to Las Vegas. This time we have to stop in Baker, CA to get some Alien Jerky!

At some point I’m going to have to tell you a little more about this hotel and the people who run it. It too is one of the pleasantly surprising pieces of our journey.

Not tonight. I’m turning off the fire (it’s gas) and going inside.


Saturday Night Concert

There are a few things we knew we’d be doing on this vacation before we left Connecticut. We came with tickets to see Rick Springfield in concert at the Spotlight 29 Casino in Coachella.

Google directions in hand, we set out across town, past the airport, Kirk Douglas and Bob Hope Roads, then east on the Interstate. We were heading toward Indio, though the highway continues to Phoenix and then all the way to Jacksonville, FL.

That reminds me – Here in Palm Springs they’ve got streets named after Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, and other show business luminaries. I’m not sure how that compares with New Haven’s Whitney, Goffe and Whalley, though my suspicion is, on this one New Haven wins.

We expected Spotlight 29 to be a little skeevy. Not so. I’m not saying this is Mirage or Mohegan Sun, but it was a passable ‘locals’ casino. I poked my nose into the poker room and saw three tables in use. You can gamble at 18 here, but these were grownups.

We went to the restaurant. My hamburger was pretty good and the meal uneventful… until I walked out to meet up with a friend of Helaine’s and forgot to pay the check!

I had it in my hand, as I walked across the casino floor. I guess I would have gotten away with it had I not looked down, let out a little shriek and run back to the restaurant.

Dinner was cheap – around $16. I wouldn’t normally mention that, except that’s what I won on a slot machine. Free meal. Thanks Spotlight 21.

We headed into the theater for the show. I was impressed. It was a nice room with a large stage. There was no curtain, so we watched the last minute on stage preps as we took our seat in the center of the first row.

Oh… yeah… one more story. I was there as Helaine purchased the tickets online, though it’s still tough to believe. They went on sale one morning at 10:00:00AM and Helaine bought our two at 10:00:05 AM.

They were truly the best seats in the house. I was surprised they hadn’t been held for the casino’s use.

Rick Springfield took the stage around 8:15. This was my fourth time seeing him, though not all the others were complete shows. Helaine has run out of the necessary fingers and toes to count her attendance.

As you might expect, the audience was heavily female and mostly old enough to remember his first trip through General Hospital. Lots of them were hard core fans who attend his concerts on a regular basis.

What most people don’t realize is, Rick Springfield is a real rocker. Honest. Sure, my wife would want me to say that, but it’s still true. There’s really no way you’d know without seeing him perform.

The guitar work is much more energetic and rough edged than you’d expect and I don’t remember any ballads. This is not a pop show from a pop artist.

Before General Hospital, Rick Springfield was a musician. He had a minor hit that I played on the radio: “Speak to the Sky.” That was long before GH and Jessie’s Girl.

As the band opened, playing “Who Killed Rock and Roll,” the audience came alive. As it turns out, the regulars are a bonus to those who are casually coming to see that “Jessie’s Girl guy.” They’re already sold on the fact they’re going to have a good time – so that’s what they do. In an audience, a good time is contagious.

The concert continued and I snapped pictures. It’s a Fox Family tradition, passed from mother to daughter and now father. Being in the first row helped, but there were other interesting picture taking opportunities as he went deep into the audience.

Both Stefanie and Helaine have taken some great photos at Springfield concerts. I wanted my turn. Though I know more about the camera, their advantage is being able to predict his moves.

I have some good shots, but I know when I’ve met my match.

Helaine had a great time and so did I. Part of my enjoyment was turning around and just watching the crowd. To me, that was part of the show. Some of these women were quite emotionally involved with what was going on on stage.

We’re back at the hotel now. Helaine’s gone to bed. I’m near the pool with my feet up on the brick ledge of the gas fire pit. I see tall, thin palm trees in every direction. They tower over the mostly one story buildings in this older neighborhood.

It’s a little chilly tonight, but my feet are warm.

Going Home

There are scattered bags all over my parent’s place and scattered showers on the radar. It’s time to leave Florida.

Our only real problem during this trip happened yesterday afternoon. We were getting ready to get in the car when I looked down at the front left tire and saw the internal mesh peeking out where the rubber had begun to separate!

Did you know BJs sells and mounts tires until 7:00 PM on Saturdays? Neither did we. That was a pleasant surprise.

We’ve got one last stop to make before we leave. Steffie has been watching TV commercials for Sonic for years – but there are none in Connecticut. There’s one about a mile from here and we’re stopping.

Our flight to Islip leaves around 2:30. We’re back in the Northeast before the Sun goes down.

Aloha.

A Drive To Worth Avenue – Palm Beach, Florida

Thursday in Florida. My mom’s birthday is tomorrow.

Today, we wanted to get out of the house. My choice was to take Steffie somewhere she’d never been… and yet there was still shopping. We headed to Palm Beach and Worth Avenue.

Long before there was Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive, there was Palm Beach and Worth Avenue. Beverly Hills is nouveau. Palm Beach is old line.

We crossed onto Palm Beach Island at Southern Boulevard, making the sweeping left around Mar-A-Lago (Hi Donald) and then north on Ocean Boulevard, aka A1A. When we hit Worth Avenue, we turned left.

It was eerie. It looked like the day after a neutron bomb. Worth Avenue had cars parked on both sides of the street, but there was no foot traffic. It looked deserted.

The cars were a show in and of themselves. I saw Ferraris, Masseratis (yes, more than one), Rolls, Mercedes and Porsche. Only on Palm Beach does a Lexus represent Chevy values.

Beyond the curbline around 25% of the shops were still closed for the summer. September… hot and sweaty September… is not the season in Palm Beach.

Stefanie lit up as she looked around and recognized the names. Every high end, decadent, over priced retailer was there.

Guys don’t get it. Certainly, I don’t get it. Stefanie does. It’s been there from birth.

We walked around for an hour or so, then headed south. Steffie left carrying a shopping bag. I can’t tell you more than that as we have a don’t ask, don’t tell policy in the Fox Family.

We took A1A home, passing through Palm Beach, South Palm Beach and Manalapan. It is difficult to fathom the amazing estates that front the ocean and Intracoastal. Some straddle the road and front both.

Mainly the buildings in Palm Beach and along A1A are what I consider “Spanish Mission” style. Whether that’s the real name or not, it’s what I call it. They are appropriate and strikingly beautiful.

Back To The Sunshine State

I’m writing this while on my way to Florida – again. This time it’s with Helaine and Stef, and this time it’s a more pleasant occasion – my mom’s birthday.

Because of where Steffie goes to school and because you can fly to West Palm Beach non-stop, we’ve opted to fly from Islip’s MacArthur Airport on Lawn Guyland.

This is an interesting airport in an interesting place. It is hemmed in on all sides by the sprawl that Long Island’s become. In that way, there are similarities to Midway Airport in Chicago.

We found our way to the remote long term parking, right on the airport grounds, and waited no more than a minute for the shuttle. The terminal was another minute or two away.

From a distance the terminal looked large. That perspective remained as we pulled up, except now it reminded me of the airport in Rockford, IL.

Stick with me on this.

In Rockford, the airport is large, but usage is not. Same here. Judging by the TV screens, nearly all the flights are operated by Southwest. The few USAir and Delta flights smelled of commuter plane routes. This is an airport where 737’s share the taxiways with Cessna 150s.

As we pulled away from the gate, I saw all six Terminal A gates and jetways. They were all vacant. It’s a shame (though nearby Islip residents might not agree with me on that).

Our flight headed southwest down Runway 24, took off and turned east. We flew over the center of Long Island. Off to the south was Fire Island. North was Long Island Sound and Connecticut.

I don’t know that much about Long Island landmarks, but I was able to pick out Brookhaven Airport, an abandoned Naval airfield and Gabreski Airport in Westhampton Beach before we turned south, heading over the Atlantic in the general direction of Florida.

The flight was a non-event until the last few minutes. With towering thunderstorm clouds on either side of the plane, the pilot came on the PA. The rest of the flight was going to be “very bumpy.”

Ding.

On went the seatbelt signs. The flight attendants were asked to take their seats. We headed down.

It wasn’t as bad as the pilot let on. It wasn’t too smooth either. We landed 15 minutes early.

It’s nice to see my folks, even though it’s only been a few days since I last saw them. Florida, as it turns out, has changed. It’s much more humid. Much.

For dinner tonight, we headed south to Boca Raton and a place called Stir Crazy. I forgot to bring “Clicky.” A shame, because this was a very photogenic place.

Basically, you choose your protein and vegetables and then watch as your dinner is stir fried while you stand and watch. Pretty cool. Very tasty.

I’m bushed.

The Return Trip

I’m typing from seat 3A aboard Southwest Flight 616. It’s a direct, as opposed to non-stop, flight from West Palm Beach to Hartford via Baltimore. All the passengers, save four, thought Baltimore was far enough.

This afternoon I couldn’t help but think of my first commercial flight. It was on a Lockheed Electra L188, a second section flight on the Eastern Shuttle&#185. I was on my way to a college interview in Boston. That was 40 years ago. A lot has changed in flying.

Back then I could have asked to see the cockpit without being arrested.

I remember looking out the window during that flight, much as I looked out the window on this one. I was fascinated by the countryside of Connecticut and Rhode Island as we flew from LaGuardia to Logan. Today I was fascinated by the clouds that floated above Florida and the adjacent Atlantic.

We headed pretty far east before heading north today. The pilot did a good job avoiding the towering thunderheads. I wonder if anyone else on board knew how bumpy it might have been?

I don’t remember the flight attendants from that first trip, though they probably would have been puzzled by the term “flight attendant.” They were stewardesses, mainly young, probably pretty. To me, a seventeen year old unaccustomed to any of their world, they were glamorous and sophisticated.

None of my flights for this trip have been full. From what I read, that’s unusual. No one sat in the middle seat between me and the strangers with whom I’ve shared the row. Nowadays, that’s a luxury.

Being an early boarder from Southwest’s Group “A”, I had my my choice of seats. On the way down it was on the aisle. Now I’m at the left window, chosen for its access to a view of sunset. I try to sit forward of the wing, where first class is on other airlines, the better to snap a few shots.

I watched a PHP tutorial video on the computer, ate an unbelievably expensive sandwich I bought in the terminal, took some photos, loosened, then removed, my sneakers and fidgeted. Helaine should be glad she wasn’t here. My fidgeting would have driven her nuts.

I just looked down to see a dense lattice of streets. I didn’t recognize it at first, but it was Brooklyn. In the distance, Manhattan was underwhelming. I made it out by its shape more than its lights.

I did catch the lights from Shea Stadium and the Tennis Center, but mostly everything under me is nondescript. Anything I recognize from here in will be because I’ve lived there.

I’ll be flying this route again Wednesday. This trip was a last minute deal because of my dad’s hospitalization. Next week it’s my mom’s birthday.

Actually, this turned out to be a pleasure trip, didn’t it?

&#185 – Back then, if the plane was filled, another would be rolled out for the remaining passengers. Though the scheduled flight was on a jet, an old prop plane served as the backup.

The Florida Difference

We went to pick up my father this morning. The hospital is done with him.

Hal, a volunteer, came to wheel him down in a chair. Hal has got to be as old as my dad. Isn’t this rolling exit a quaint tradition that can end?

Driving up and back from Boynton Beach to Boca Raton gave me a good chance to watch the Florida sky. It is definitely different than the Connecticut sky. Maybe I’m just more attuned to looking up because I’m a meteorologist, I’ll admit to that. But there is a difference.

Even with high humidity levels, the air here is mainly clear and the sky is mainly blue. Days that would feature haze in Connecticut don’t here.

Still, the real star of the sky is the clouds. They are white and puffy and well defined and tall. These are towering cumulus clouds – a term often seen in airport observations, but never so literally true as here.

Yes, these towering “Cu” produce the numerous thunderstorms found over the peninsula every day. It’s a fair trade. They’re amazing.

Hospital BINGO

We’re in the room with my dad now. He can’t lift his head, but my mom is feeding him scrambled eggs.

He’s hungry. That’s excellent.

In the midst of all this a volunteer walked in, asking if we wanted a newspaper? Then, she gushed about the BINGO games this afternoon at 1:00 PM on the in-hospital TV channel. “They have prizes,” she said.

This is Florida!