This is the fourth time Sig and I have spent a good part of the month of February in Port Aransas.  It’s sunny but cold and windy as we drive the island away from Corpus Christie.  

Without comment we pass Mustang Island State Park and the Stripes convenience store that, in fact, does sell wine. Then past A Mano, the best place around for quality Mexican imports — right across the street from another import place whose pots will likely chip before you get them home.     

After lunch we reach the first intersection and turn right, caddy-corner from the row of giant pastel sea horses. We turn into the drive-way of the Sea Shell and stop at the office.

It takes a little while to unload the truck but not nearly as long as before. 

The place shows a little wear. The legs to the ottoman are in the drawer, there’s a deep scratch on the table and a rip on the arm of the couch. The rusty skillet has disappeared. After we unpack and rearrange the furniture, we open a bottle of wine. 

It is as if we had Never left. It is as if yesterday we had dinner at the Mexican place and the day before we went to the CVS. It is like I had already gone to IGA and knew their movie selection sucks and their lettuce is wilted but their hamburger is 90% lean. It is just a little bit stunning that neither of us could think of anything significant about the last year.

Sig thinks it is because we are getting old and memory compresses everything. His second theory revolves around the intensity of familiarity and I didn’t really follow it. Personally, I think we are in a re-make of Groundhog Day. 

This is the fourth time…

Will Punxsutawney Phil see his shadow or not? If he does, we supposedly have 6 weeks more of winter; since spring begins March 20, seven weeks from tomorrow — that prediction is sorta a no-brainer.

If it’s cloudy, he won’t see his shadow and everyone in Pennsylvania believes spring will come earlier than March 20th. 

I have to tell you I really have no dog in this race. ( I am just amazed I am able to spell Punxsutawney without looking it up.)

Well, go ahead and hedge your bets for tomorrow. There’s this.

And then there is this. Happy February 2.

 Here is another entry in the almost popular What’s In Your Drawers Series. It is called Low Skill Tool Center 2/1. (See January 18th post for first in series.) 

I am sure that you will be as struck as I am by this gripping image of nearly simultaneous holding on and letting go.

I spent part of the afternoon at Sea Turtle Inc, a rescue operation smack dab in the middle of South Padre Island.

The building is weather-beaten and worn out from a lot of use. Inside, right past the messenger bags made from recycled plastic, are huge round plastic tanks counter-top high. Look down and come face to face with any one of several dozen turtles  too busy doing rehab to stop for a chat.

Living in the shallow waters of the gulf isn’t one big picnic. Over 110 sea turtles were treated at the facility last year. Here’s Karma, an Atlantic Green turtle who has really upped her activity; she plans to be outta there by spring break.

The place is called Holy Cow. It is a large room in a cement block building with a number of utilitarian tables and chairs.The only thing on the wall is a wide floor to ceiling chalk board. A man who looks like Antonio Bandera in a close-fitting black polo shirt and a starched white apron tied around his waist, greeted us as we walked in.

We intended to order our favorites — Butter Pecan and Blueberry Crumble. But the menu on the board didn’t have what we expected. Instead there was choco-mint, choco-cherry, choco-vanilla plus a list of tropical flavors like mango, grapefruit and tangerine and mint. The bottom of the board listed nuts — almond, walnut, pecan.

In Mexico almost every child grows up eating Paletas, frozen fruit bars, popsicles made from fresh seasonal fruit. When the fruit is blended with milk or cream they are paletas de leche, or milk Popsicles. 

The Antonio Look alike figured out that we had not yet tasted paletas and immediately offered samples. He told us that all of the ingredients were fresh, and that the paletas were made in the store. We ordered a choco-mint, a vanilla-pecan and vanilla-almond. 

You heard it here first, this Will be the next trend — it also may be the tight-fitting black polos have another run.

Valentine’s Day is coming up. If you have a stack of photos sitting around that you have not shared with everyone — use them to make a book. There are quite a few choices of places to design books. I have made several using Blurb. It is so easy, you’ll absolutely knock yourself out with the result.

The book-making software is free. It takes minutes to download and you are ready to upload your photos. Finished books vary in cost depending upon size, number of pages and cover style — but a book that is 20-40 pages in length with a hard-cover starts at 22.95. Chump change!

Hustle if you are going to get it produced and shipped in time for VD. But if you can’t make that date, you can always dream up a reason for gift-giving.  Here are a some ideas to do without even leaving the house. 

Food for Thought – Make a favorite dessert or spinach dip or your world-famous chex cereal snack mix. Photograph each step of the way. Use the recipe for text. 

Feeeelins – Have someone take photos of you expressing different moods. Throw in some favorite quotes or memories.  

Sound of Music – Use the words to a favorite song as text. Illustrate it with photos of common household objects related more or less to the words of the song.

At Home With Pablo (or Frisky or Oscar, or whatever) – Use all of those pet photos. Or record a day by taking pictures from his/her eye level. Dorky? Of course — but pet owners are wacky about them. If available, substitute a small child for equal wattage.

Yesterday I was sitting around thinking my day could have more meaning, more umph, more something. It was a state brought on by a multiplicity of circumstances: because there are still over 50 days to go til spring, because the Christmas tree is still sitting on the front porch, because my To Do List is seriously flat and boring. 

Lately when I turn on the computer, it does not automatically connect to the internet. I have to fool it into thinking it is a brand new day by turning the power completing off, wait 20 seconds and turn it back on. Only then does it agree to show up for work. This is not an attractive characteristic of an office partner.  

But there I was, checking e-mail.

I learned that I had qualified for 50% off chocolate dipped strawberries, someone was holding a mystery shopper assignment for me and One King’s Lane was having a sale on valentines. I had notices about new grants, an invitation to a gallery opening and a request to view my investments.  

The To Do List could wait. I was back in the game.

Ted Kooser is a two time US poet laureate (2004-2006). The best that I can gather from that honor is the Library of Congress appoints poets and entrusts him/her with no less than, “Why don’t you raise the status of poetry in the everyday conscience of the everyday American? ”

Well, Ted   — in case the Library of Congress is counting, count me in — I have raised my appreciation of poetry soooo much. Tell them to call me, if they want.  Tell them to read this, it’s one of my favorites.

                     In January

Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.