Miss Informed

The Shrinking adventures of ChleoFatra

2011-10-17T06:38:00.000-07:00

10.15.11

It's pouring outside and has been for the past couple days, which makes being locked inside with 16 pound cat on a diet loads of laughs... Not really. She's meowing for more the minute she ingests her diet cat food twice daily. Normally I'd kick her outside as a punishment (and for peace)....but that's when she would take advantage of the buffet kindly left out front for the other kitties in the neighborhood. I don't like having a litter box and she doesn't like having a meal plan so we were both winning ~ kind of. Except that my expensive cat food was just an appetizer in ChleoFatra's life, and she was expanding by the minute, that is....until I decided to begin this awful lock-in.

After toting Fatty to Marathon to see the lovely Dr. D last Saturday ~ I was informed that while changing a litter box may suck.....so does giving a daily shot of insulin to a diabetic cat. Touche - here's your shit box. Awesome. Even though she tap dances in her sandbox at any hour of the day whether or not she's going to the bathroom or not, I'm dealing with it. I scoop it immediately after she makes a deposit and I sweep 80 times a day to keep the pebbles at bay.

I'm distracting her with toys and doing my best to sympathize because I know that diets aren't easy. I've also been watching "I used to be Fat" on MTV ~ and have taken notes on how parents often enable their kids with junk food and huge portions to keep them from bitching. So, with a strong will and iron-clad patience, I'm hoping to help Fatty drop a couple pounds during kitty boot camp, which may last the rest of her big, fat life.

Let the games begin... and I guess it's official....I'm a crazy cat lady.

Words of wisdom

2011-09-09T04:52:00.000-07:00

To all the girls who are in a hurry to have a boyfriend or get married, a piece of Biblical advice: " Ruth patiently waited for her mate Boaz."

While you are waiting on YOUR Boaz, don't settle for any of his relatives; Broke-az, Po-az, Lyin-az, Cheating-az, Dumb-az, Drunk-az, Cheap-az, Lockedup-az, , Goodfornothingaz, Lazyaz, and especially his third cousin Beatinyouaz. Wait on your Boaz and make sure he respects Yoaz....

That's all for now ~ have a fantastically amazing Friday :)

It's your life and your memories....keep a diary please!

2011-09-02T16:56:00.000-07:00

While doing some research on ugly sweaters, I had to delve into the many diaries I have on the subject; and let me tell you......what a ride it was. Not only did I laugh and cry and thank God that I had documented my life in words (regardless that some were slurred), but I also got pissed at my younger slightly buzzed self.

How could I ~ a reasonably well taught, well spoken and well rounded woman, end up forgiving an idiot (or 2) time and time again? I pity the fools that are out there now taking their sweaters to dinner (cuz you know who picks up the tab? Sweaters generally don't have pockets ... let alone wallets ~ with money in them!)

I'm ready to put everybody on blast, so if you're not a stand up guy with a few morals and an intact backbone ~ beware...because I'm going to try my best to shed some light on why friends shouldn't let friends date sweaters. (And the sweaters probably aren't the least bit worried because they've got their claws in so tight that they think you're hopeless...hopelessly devoted to a knit-wit. But, there's always hope and trust me, there are plenty of us in the sweater squad).

First up: The suffocating sweater.....They rarely let you go anywhere without questioning your motives. They check your cellphone regularly and even sneak a peak whenever their craziness makes them cave in. They don't like it when you hang out with your friends (who most likely don't like your sweater and will only see you if he's not around) and thus you get to spend most of your waking hours weighted down in wool .... fools!

The reason I'm screaming "Diaries ~ Nigga Please" ~ is simple. You write down how you feel, what you've got going on and what you hope will happen.....then you let these words simmer as you write more....and eventually you reflect. And that's the key. Hopefully your reflection happends at a time when you're ready to learn about what an idiot you are. And that you're ready to do things differently and give yourself everything that you deserve.

It just so happens that I'm ready, and if I have to talk to one more pretty, awesome girl whose boyfriend is still living with his ex, married (but only for a green card), a felon, drunk, cheating, lying, con artist ...I may go postal.

You are writing your own life stories ladies, and that goes for you too fellas. If you don't like the way your story sounds out loud ~ you better change it, because no one else is going to come in and edit your life for you.

There will be some who offer you advice but you will ignore them....until you read about the red flags in your diary. Unfortunately these realizations and "aha" moments have to be your own doing....otherwise you spite the people who talk down to your Mr. Right (which is why you need write about your Mister).

So try this for now: Write in a journal just a little bit a day and pay attention to yourself .... before your sweater has you so broke and emotional broken that you can't even afford to pay attention.

Thoughts?

Oh boy ~ no boys...

2011-08-28T17:04:00.000-07:00

Since I was in preschool (even during swimming lessons) I've always had a boyfriend. Pretty much for the past 28 years....I have had a boyfriend ~ until now.

I am 6 months into my Radical Sabbatical and must say that I feel fine. More than fine actually, as it seems that all of the stress in my life got kicked out the door. Amazing. I truly feel fantastic and I highly suggest that everyone takes at least this long to date no one and pay attention to only one (YOU) for just a bit.

I've got it good right now and it's going to take one hell of a man (and another 6 months of this bilss) for me to even think about changing my mind.

I'm working on a few projects now that I only have myself to worry about, so I'll try my best and keep you posted on what happening in between Reality TV, beach and spa days :)

CleoFatra is Hungry For Love

2011-03-10T15:09:00.000-08:00

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

2.25.11

The human heart is capable of expanding 10 times the normal size to accommodate the love we have for our animals. Ironically, I recently acquired a cat 10 times the normal size, and must say that I am eternally grateful that she decided to share her big fat life with me.

CleoFatra ~ affectionately referred to as Fatty ~ is one substantial feline specimen who reminds me of my favorite dog, the Great Dane.

When she jumps off a bed of a chair, the house shakes. And her sense of smell is impeccable which makes her writhe like Stevie Wonder anytime someone walks by with food. She will come when called and if we're in the kitchen cooking, she sprawls out in the danger zone in the hopes that someone will trip and fall and drop a morsel of food. I love her.

She also comes in very handy during cold fronts. Since she doesn't like to move if she doesn't have to, she will morph around your feet if you stick them underneath her 22 pounds of purr-fection, and is the best furry muff you can find.

Now I'm all for going to rescue the perfect pet from a shelter, however at the time of her arrival, we weren't in the market for another cat, let alone a colossal one. But sometimes they just waddle into your lives, as was the case with my beloved Fatty.

At first, we just caught glimpses of a large mass of dirty fur as she would scurry under a car or creep around a corner. She wouldn't let anyone get close to her until the fateful day when a piece of turkey fell from my sandwich while getting the mail. She ran up, snatched a bite, let me pet her and then ran off.

Soon after that, she parked herself on our front porch waiting for another offering, and a couple days later (after watching Sandra Bullock's "The Blind Side") I had to let her in. Plus I thought there was a chance that she might have babies on board.

The vet came to check her out and informed us that she wasn't pregnant, just obese, and most likely grew up in a competitive eating household. And won.

She looks like a tortoise from above, and when going down the stairs she hops because all of her weight on one of her toothpick legs would surely break a bone.

As a responsible pet owner, I'm aware that she must undergo some changes. But, after significantly reducing her diet, buying expensive food from the vet, and making her chase toys up and down the stairs as part of a kitty boot camp, she remains large and in charge. (I also cut catnip out of her diet to avoid the munchies).

However I recently heard that you can't un-fat a cat. No matter what, and I'm starting to believe it.
Does anyone have any knowledge on the subject? Should I call the people at Biggest Loser and see if she's a candidate? In the meantime, I will continue to enjoy my chunky monkey as she does unintentional sit-ups in an effort to smell our supper.

Can it Grandma!

2010-11-26T14:26:00.000-08:00

11.26.10

MISS INFORMED
BY TRACI

Who doesn't love their Grandmas? Well, that's especially true for me and my Grandma Jeanne who was "tickled pink" when I told her that I was writing a book called: "Can it Grandma".

I recently decided that I was going to cook my way through my Grandma's arsenal of recipes, which include quite a few pickled items. She cans salsa, jalapeno jelly, pepper slaw, ice box pickles, relish. … and then she works her way through dinner, dessert, breads, supper, sauces, and cocktails. She's a well-rounded Midwest woman with countless friends, some of whom also contributed their family recipes in the typed up pamphlet that's wrinkled with love and stained from use (Fact check: 23 cups of mayonnaise is actually 2/3 a cup....sometimes Grandma drinks).

Needless to say, our Key West house has been significantly more crowded since I began my mission with Easy Stew (very good), macaroni salad, and apple crisp. But lately, my canning recipes have been unrelated to the book because apparently, Grandma never had honeybees living in her walls. We did......and now we have some of the sweetest honey in existence.

It made me feel self sufficient and closer to Grandma who grew all of her own vegetables, and spent many days flicking off bugs, pulling up weeds, snapping beans and getting everything ready to play their part on the main stage of her kitchen. Her house would be taken over by tomatoes (tons, literally ~ I've seen it, had to sleep with it, and still can't explain the fear). But in the end and with a little help, she would take the chaos, crush everything neatly into jars, and then share them with those she loved all year long. What a concept.

Looking back, I've also loved being a part of the process, although I certainly wasn't much help at the time (especially if a bug was around). Little did I know that my country bumpkin butt would end up canning crap on an island in the Caribbean a few decades later. Let alone honey!!! Funny.

So last week my boyfriend sawed off a 300 pound stalk of bananas, roped it to his car and hung from our staircase (no complaints, making banana nut muffins and bread and really digging the chandelier effect we've got going on).

Then, the very next day, we're forced into beekeeping and risking our lives to remove honeycomb from the roof of our guesthouse (this was Morgan's job in a shade hat draped in tule and duct taped around his neck ~ I did help with the outfit). After bagging the honeycomb and hanging it from a tree, he cut the bottom corner off and let it drip over a filter and into a bucket. We poured the nectar of the Gods over other strainers, then through nylons, and into the jars we go. (Guess you know what you're getting for Christmas)!

And more than ever, I now understand my Grandma's heartfelt love for wine…this is hard work people, and clean up is even harder. Especially when your vacuum is filled with dead honeybees and every door knob in the house is sticky.

Anyhow, I hope everyone enjoyed the holiday with their families (I was stuck in the Keys but luckily had a visit from Dad to help me from being homesick). Thanksgiving at Grandma's goes a little something like this ~ she leaps out of her recliner (on the rare instance you catch her resting), scootches to the kitchen, and in a happy hurry she assembles her supplies and bosses people around, saying mostly "Traci, shut the"ice box" ~ and, "Colin, quit eating the bacon".

Proceeded by "Diane (my mom) ~ that's Butchie's beer (my uncle Butch who only drinks Budweiser)". The late Uncle Joe (Mean Jeanne's twin brother) whom has been gone well over a decade, will still be affectionately mentioned as my brother will reenact his infamous mashed potato volcano, piled high with gluttony and gratefulness. I love my family more than I should, which I think is the perfect amount.

And we all know that with love comes torture, which is why I always have to tease Grandma a little about her love for John Wayne and her peculiar pronunciation of certain words (chiropractor is a good one, especially after a glass or two of wine). Mean Jeanne also has this thing with calling lunch "Dinner". I'm not going to lie, it used to freak me out when I was 5, because if we were having dinner already.....I somehow got shafted out of lunch. What the?

But I soon found out that dinner was delicious and just when you start to get hungry again, Grandma swoops in because "Supper's ready!"

For some of Mean Jeanne's recipes and to see all of Miss Informed's previous ramblings, go to www.canitgrandma.com.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T12:19:00.000-08:00

I did it all by myself!

It's 3:20 p.m., and I'm already on the couch with a glass of wine after preparing a last minute Thanksgiving dinner with friends and family. We were planning on going out for dinner, but I felt guilty so I picked up a few extra ingredients at the grocery store (where I was already headed since my father consumes at least one large container of Coffee Mate creamer per day), and we had a complete turkey day buffet.
With a huge can of pumpkin pie mix already on hand, I was able to whip up two pies ~ one regular and one graham cracker crust. (I must admit, I had a situation with the crust burning....so I called my mom who told me to cover it with tin foil (and mentioned crust protectors, which I'll most likely be getting as a Christmas present this year).
I then made the Pioneer Woman's mashed potatoes ~ which consist mainly of cream, cream cheese, butter and the Everglades Seasoning. Accompanied by mom's famous green bean casserole, the main dish was a turkey stuffing bake, mostly intended as a leftover Thanksgiving recipe. I already had ground turkey and figured that if I baked everything at 350 degrees, it would be pretty easy to take it easy (and I was right ~ try this version of Thanksgiving and thank me later : ).

GREEN BEAN CASSEROLE ~ DIANE VAN HOOZER RORK'S RECIPE (as per Grandma's cookbook)

1 Can Green Beans
1 Can Mushroom Soup
1/2 cup cubed cheese (cheddar)
1/4 cup been liquid
1 tsp Worcestershire Sauce

Place half of the beans in a baking dish. Add half of mushroom soup and 1/4 cup of cheese. Dilute remainder of soup with 1/4 cup bean liquid, 1 tsp Worcestershire sauce and pour over mixture. Add the rest of the beans, cheese and cover with French Fried Onions or bread crumbs. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes.

TURKEY AND STUFFING BAKE

1/2 Cup (1 stick) butter or margarine
1 1/2 cups boiling water
3 1/2 Cups seasoned stuffing crumbs (left-over stuffing)
1 can French Fried Onions
1 can condensed cream of celery soup
3/4 cups milk
1 1/2 (7 oz.) cubed cooked turkey (or ground in my case)
1 package (10 oz.) frozen peas thawed
(I also used two ears of corn on the cob (off the cob of course)

Combine butter and boiling water and stir until butter melts. Pour over stuffing crumbs and toss lightly. Stir in 1/2 can French fried onions. Spoon stuffing mixture into 1 1/2 quart baking dish, across bottom and up sides of dish to form a shell. Combine soup, milk turkey and peas and pour into stuffing shell. Bake uncovered at 340 degrees for 30 minutes. Top with remaining onions and bake uncovered for 5 minute longer. (Makes 4 to 6 servings). (Very Good).

SCALLOPED CABBAGE (Made by my friend friend Rachel who is helping me work my way through Grandma's recipes)

A head of cabbage
1 cup cream
3/4 cup Parmesan Cheese

Quarter or shred cabbage and place in buttered baking dish. Pour cream over ad sprinkle with cheese. Baked covered at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes. Easy and so very fantastic. Everything was and all of the men in my life were more than happy to partake in taste testing my creations.

That's all for now folks ~ it was fast, fantastic and fairly easy holiday, all the way down to the clean up! Plus everyone was full and happy...Locals Guide is out tomorrow ~ watch for the new Miss informed : )

Tis the Season to Shed your Sweaters

2010-11-19T07:46:00.000-08:00

10.29.10

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

Haven't we all stumbled upon a photo of ourselves wearing an embarrassingly ugly sweater? Not only does it looks like you raided Bill Cosby's closet, but it's huge, ugly and an obviously bad decision.

You wonder, "How could I have ever thought this was OK?"…..and the scary part is, not only did you pick out the sweater, but you wore it out in public on more than one occasion (and apparently posed for a photo op?!). What were were we thinking and why didn't someone stop us!?!

Well ladies and gents, the same can be said for our exes … which we sometimes sport for years ~ even when they don't do us any justice. In most cases, people will try and warn us, but for unGodly reasons we love our sweaters and so we don't listen. Whether you want to blame it on youth, booze, or voodoo . . . we finally outgrew or outran our sweaters, and want to help others do the same.

We all have friends or family who are involved with a looming disaster, and no one wants to wait for the train to crash. We can see that their selfish sweaters aren't the best choice, and yet there's nothing in the world we can do about it. Just because we can see that he walks like a lying, cheating, alcoholic duck … doesn't mean we'll have a chance in hell convincing them ~ even with stone-cold proof! They ignore their lowered standards while settling down with their wardrobe malfunctions, and in a daze they spend their days sporting an itchy, stinky sweater. Ewww.

Then you've got those who actually realize their relationship is an addiction and that they just don't have the strength to quit these knit-wits. After the latest let down, they proclaim, "That's it, I'm done ~ for real this time…" and maybe even make it a couple weeks before letting their sweater slither back into the closet. I'm not really not sure which is worse.

It seems that you can pick your friends, you can pick your nose….but unfortunately you can't pick your friends clothes.

There are plenty of blazers in the sea, so If you want to destroy your sweater....tell me about it at tracicolleen@yahoo.com.

Don't sweat the petty stuff

2010-09-24T13:28:00.000-07:00

9.24.10

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

Right about now, the rest of the country is wrapped up in football season with plenty of snuggly blankets, socks and homemade chili to warm their souls. The leaves have changed along with the weather, and fall has once again fallen right into place.... that is not the case for us island folk.

Nope, we're still being greeted with smoking hot air that fogs up our glasses anytime we set foot into the sauna that is our world.

The heat is responsible for many unfortunate calamities such as (but certainly not limited to): sweaty lip syndrome, free-flowing forehead drip, raccoon eyes, and it has forced countless ladies to stand with their arms crossed in an attempt to cover up boob sweat. Not to mention the ever-popular ring around the armpit and man's worst enemy ~ chaffage.

Well friends, I hate to tell you this, but there's nothing we can do about it.

We live in the tropics, and thus……we're prisoners to perspiration. But ~ at least we're in this together!

So yeah, it's safe to say that I'm hot, bothered and more than ready to stop swatting at mosquitoes. I'm getting 3rd degree burns from my car seat for God's sake and I'm sick and tired of showing up everywhere looking like I just crawled my way out of Shawshank Redemption.

Every chore that requires leaving the AC even for a moment is a dreadful endeavor and has actually driven me to drink, lie and steal. I've strolled into a store and lied about not looking for anything in particular when I know exactly what I want....I want to steal your cold air. And if there's a chance I can have an ice cold beer while waiting for my body temp to quit boiling, even better.

These little oases of comfort are a win-win situation: You get to cool off and business owners get a few customers during the season of the sloths. So, feel free to be an air conditioning squatter, but it’s in good form to buy a souvenir while you’re at it!

You'll also have the same opportunity during one of our sporadic thunder storms. It's a catch-22 because while they temporarily cool down the island and water our wilting flowers, they seem to have no mercy on my schedule.

The skies have a tendency to open up and spew tidal waves of rain at random times throughout the day, always managing to find the 15 minute window of opportunity when I decided to change locations. Of course, when you actually wish/hope/pray for rain…..it's nothing but clear skies and butterflies.

Case in point:

As if an iguana taking a colossal dump on my windshield wasn't gross enough….our seasonal temperature of 90 degrees sufficiently helped to bake the mistake firmly onto the glass in front of my face. It looked like a Great Dane hopped on the hood of my car and left me a gnarly present after a long day at the office. How lovely. And the last thing you want to do is deal with a "shitsuation" at the end of the day ~ why couldn't it just rain?!

I soon found out that my windshield wipers were no match for this mess, and had the pleasure of driving home with my head out the window cursing the demonic dragon that had done this to me.

So yes, while people always tell me how lucky and smart I am for choosing to make a tropical island my home, I will agree with you most of the time, but not at the moment. I'm currently wrapping up a September slump, and I know I'm not alone.

I am all out of vacation days, I have no money to take one if I could, and I've had it with sweating more than (feel free to use any of the following: Tom Oosterhoudt at a swim meet....the Acevedo's at an audit.... George Bush at a spelling bee .....).

Plus, it probably doesn't help that in a mere matter of days, I will be leaving my 20's behind.

I just have to remind myself that when I migrated from Kansas to Key West only 6 years ago (in September no less), the heat was a sweet relief and comfort was only an ocean or pool away.
I may be a bit jaded at the moment but at one point in time, all of these annoyances were amazing and endearing to me. Everything but the iguana crap ~ that's something that I'll never get used to (although I found a new use for an ice scraper)!

To further inform Miss Informed, send compliments, and questions to
missinformed@keysnews.com, and to help get Miss Informed a raise, send an outpouring of praise and admiration to the publisher at pclarin@keysnews.com.

In case you haven't noticed, what goes around always comes around....

2009-11-01T14:30:00.000-08:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

10.15.09

How many of you have had your bicycles snatched by some drunken degenerate never to be seen again? I'm willing to wager -- plenty. But how many of you have actually had the pleasure of running into that degenerate as he's leisurely cruising around town on your bright pink bicycle? Not enough sadly, and they're usually gone for good ... but not always.

I've had a few bikes snatched from my possession and spent years searching for them, hoping to come face to face with the culprits who complicated my life. While I know that karma catches up with everyone sooner or later, I must say that I'm a big fan of sooner, and after a recent altercation with a bike thief, you'll surely understand why.

Not only does it get your blood pumping and your adrenaline rushing, but catching someone in the act of ripping you off also gives you super-hero confidence -- which isn't always a good thing. But luckily in our case, after a fury of screams from horn honking hell raisers in high heels ... that poor thug was defeated before he even knew what hit him!

That's right. A couple of weekends ago during the full moon, my friend Courtney and I managed to rob a robber. This was not a premeditated act, nor one I recommend in hindsight. It simply comes down to cause and effect and how sometimes our carnal instincts can't be ignored once we've been blatantly wronged.

So here's how it happened...There was an army of bikes in front of my house Friday night as we made a brief pit stop in between bars. Since our posse wasn't planning on staying long, none of the bikes were locked and as you can imagine, that's when bad things happened.

Sure enough, we came outside moments later to find Courtney's bike missing from the pack. Cascading feelings of being violated quickly turned to anger and despair, and we quickly got in the car to go catch the predator.

I know that the more time that passes, the less likely it is that we'll be getting the bike back and exacting our revenge. But that night we turned onto all the right streets at all the right times and lo and behold, we spotted the bike bandit swerving toward us in the darkness. You can't imagine the anger and neither could he.

I honked the horn, rolled down my window and from the safety of my car yelled that the cops are on the way and he should run. Courtney on the other hand, marched over to the idiot as he was telling us that it was definitely his bike because his sunglasses were in the basket. Nice try wise guy.

Of course as this was all happening, not a single soul walked by and even though it was two against one, I've watched enough Court TV to know that hardly matters.

Regardless, after more horn honking, yelling and insults were thrown at the drunken thief, he begrudgingly got off the hot pink bike and shamefully went on his way. He called us losers as he walked away cloaked in irony, and Courtney proudly rode her bike home with me driving slowly next to her, in the hopes he wouldn't bum rush her and try to take it back.

He didn't and thankfully we escaped unharmed ... and go figure, with an assault weapon he left in the bike basket! It seems for some reason, the thug needed a retractable baton like the one used to beat Nancy Kerrigan back in the day. Good thing he was either too drunk to remember he had it, or he sized up the competition and was scared of a couple of dress-wearing divas.

Whatever the case, we were home safe and armed in case some other moron wanted a piece of action.

While my dad and brother got a kick out of this story, my mom on the other hand believes that my vigilantism should not be celebrated and that I should not be so proud of flirting with danger. I told her she should be relieved knowing that not only am I a self-sufficient woman, I'm also friends with Courtney, the no-nonsense Queen of Clubs, and thus our lives are not in jeopardy ... all that often.

Besides, I've never felt more accomplished, more relieved, more validated than when we returned home with that bike In tow. Not to mention the joy of retelling our crazy story to the girls who were just as shocked to see us marching back home with the stolen bike and some sort of night stick.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" and that's especially true on a full moon!

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@ keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, visit tracirork.blogspot.com.

There are many reasons to fall in love with the seasons

2009-11-01T14:29:00.000-08:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

10.01.09

In case you've been too busy to notice, October has arrived and it's time for us to appreciate another fall in the tropics.

The temperature doesn't drop drastically, and we don't get to experience the aesthetically pleasing view of palm trees changing colors or the satisfaction that comes with raking leaf piles. As a matter of fact, in the Keys, fall sneaks right past summer and slides into our lives with a tiny breeze, only to be recognized after the rest of the country reminds us it's here.

It's already snowing in Colorado (which is not a spin-off of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"). Believe it or not, people are getting their winter coats ready along with their boots, gloves and earmuffs. It's a yearly ritual for most Americans. They easily adjust to the fact that layers are mandatory in the quest for comfort and they are prepared to dress accordingly.

I, however, am no longer one of those Americans. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing like being wrapped in a blanket while watching a football game and drinking hot chocolate. But while I sometimes miss the brisk air that's already greeting the faces of Northerners, I must say that I have not yet grown weary of the constant warmth we get here in the islands. And I highly doubt that I'm the only one who has fallen in love with fall in the Keys.

It's nice to saunter outside in the morning to get the paper without having to worry about putting on socks, pants, a sweatshirt and jacket. Or on the other hand, without suffering from heat stroke before the sun even begins to make its debut for the day (remember July)?.

Instead we get to enjoy the comfort of 86 degree temperatures all day, equally warm waters, and the ability to wear a swimming suit well into the holidays. We're also quite a ways away from retiring our flip-flops, since most serious cold fronts generally wait until December to present themselves.

We are blessed with warm, tropical air to enjoy, comfortable water to float in, and a subtle break in between the African heat and cold sea breezes. However, anytime of year it's possible for you to break into a sweat just by thinking too hard. The Keys are considered to be in a subtropical region, where the average summer and winter temperatures rarely differ by more than 10 degrees.

Key West claims to be the only city in the lower 48 states to never have had a snow, ice or frost, and the coldest temperature ever recorded was 41 F in January of 1886, according to Wikipedia. The average low and high temperatures in January are 67 and 75 F, and whether or not you agree, I say that's perfect weather!

School is in session and well under way, sports are in full swing and the rituals of another year are starting to take shape. We're becoming obsessed with our favorite TV shows, (even the admittedly lame "Dancing with the Stars"), and it's about time to start whipping up some pumpkin pie and making sure there's chili simmering on the stove.

Just because the temperature doesn't drop, doesn't mean we have to drop the ball on the seasons. We just have to incorporate the traditional with the untraditional, which is technically our specialty.

Instead of collecting cold weather gear from the depths of our closets, we're busy pulling out beads and boas as we prepare for all of the Fantasy Fest Festivities. We live in a town that puts the fun in fundraiser and there are countless events that are held to benefit local and national charities.

In fact, that may be the best indicator of the season, based on what events are being hosted on any given weekend. (WomanFest, Bike Week, Goombay, Parrotheads...) We may not be a traditional group, but we are certainly a group that thrives on tradition.

We are islanders. Sure the mountains are magical and forests are fine but to be able to live on an island? That's pretty hard to beat in my book.

But for all the people scattered around the world who are jealous of our tempting temperatures, fear not. I can think of at least one downfall to living on an island surrounded by the sea ... there's coral dust everywhere! You can sweep the floors every day and somehow it will find its way into your bed, hair, purses and cars.... And onto your pets, shoes, food and face.

But personally, I'll take a couple of sandy feet over chapped lips and a runny nose any day.

So until next time, stay cool but don't freeze!

To further inform Miss Informed, contact trork@ keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, go to tracirork.blogspot.com.

What's the big Idea? Hopefully you have at least a couple...

2009-11-01T14:28:00.001-08:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

9.24.09

On occasion, I have been known to conjure up a few great ideas. Haven't we all? I'm talking million dollar, sure to succeed, bona fide and brilliant ideas that get people legitimately excited. We've all thought up adaptations or alterations that can improve everyday life or the human race in general and then we proceed to call ourselves geniuses.

But let me ask you this. How many fantastic ideas have you immediately forgotten, ignored or just kept on the back burner only to find out that these awesome ideas have come to fruition after being pursued by someone else. What!? You should have made something happen because "That was my idea," or "I thought of that first," are both lame proclamations that showcase our lack of motivation.

As Buddha so accurately put it, "an idea that is developed and put into action is more important than an idea that exists only as an idea."

Now get moving! Everyone has great ideas, but only a few can pick the right ones to cling to, and follow through with them. It's hard to filter out the fantasy and decide which ideas are bright enough to believe in -- and that's only the first step. Next you have to get the ball rolling by doing your homework and devoting your time to the cause because let's face it, we're not getting any younger.

Either you've already uncovered your million dollar idea and locked it in the vault or you need to get cracking. In my experience, I've found that group brainstorming works best, and if accompanied by a cocktail, it's one of the most productive and rewarding ways to generate a great idea.

I will also suggest that you have a notebook handy because there's nothing worse than forgetting all that was discussed during one of your invention conventions. Just by jotting down your discussion, you've made your concept a little more concrete, which makes it that much easier to complete.

I'm pretty sure that I've overlooked countless column ideas and convinced myself that numerous jokes weren't funny, simply because a writing utensil wasn't within reach. It's a horrible shame because later when I can't remember what I was thinking about, I'm instantly convinced that I just lost the best idea I ever had.

Don't let this happen to you! Don't let the roots of an idea sprout and spread only to wind up dead from lack of attention. Cultivate your creativity and have faith enough to finish what you start. Don't let yourself or others deter you from following through, no matter how far-fetched your ideas may seem.

"If at first the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it." according to the great Albert Einstein.

That being said, I should also mention that we are all responsible for conjuring up some not so bright ideas, which often are the ones we tend to strap ourselves to.

For every fantastic idea we're responsible for, there are about five or 10 bad ones that present themselves and unnecessarily confuse us. This is why I highly recommend group sessions or think tanks as I like to say, so you can get the necessary feedback from your smart friends who don't beat around the bush.

They'll tell you if your ideas are stupid and hopefully provide you with better ideas as you hone in on the details. Just be careful not to share these conversations with your most cunning and ambitious friends, or they could end up running with them and taking all the credit.

Speaking of credit, sometimes we are blessed with good ideas at bad times -- like when we're broke. The hardest part about getting your feet off the ground is that it generally requires time and money, both of which we're usually lacking.

But if you believe in something and are going to take credit for its success, I believe you should do anything in your power (and within the law) to make sure it doesn't fail.

Because what's worse than being a "has been"? Being a "has never." It's safe to say that now's the time to leave behind your legacy -- not sit on your behind. You have to keep trying things until they work and making your own magic or you're just simply wasting space.

I don't know who said the following but I'll gladly take credit because it sums everything up perfectly.

"You can't make footprints in the sand of time while sitting on your butt, and who wants to make butt prints in the sand of time?"

Not this girl, that's for sure.

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@ keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, go to tracirork.blogspot.com.

Spilt milk can lead to mopped floors -- How chaos turns into cleaning

2009-09-24T07:59:00.000-07:00

(9.17.09)

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

I'm a self-proclaimed hazard to the household and destroyer of the peace. I'm definitely not a stranger to the sound of breaking glass and while it's a horrible way to live, I've come to accept the fact that I make messes -- many and often. That's just what I do.

Sometimes these little mishaps are immediately comical, other times they're funny after the fact, but mostly they're annoying and always taking place at the worst possible moments. Not that breaking or spilling things is ever a welcomed occurrence, it's just that when life is already complicated, every added complication sends you one step closer to the edge.

You spill on your shirt just as you're leaving the house when you're already running late. The oven shorts out right as dinner is prepped and ready to go in, or you drop your purse full of electronics into the pool. You most likely already had a full agenda of things you needed to accomplish before these setbacks, but that hardly matters to the complication fairy who swoops right in and forces you to slow down and deal with some drama.

If you feel like you've heard me talk about this before, you're correct, and odds are this won't be the last time I voice my frustration on the subject. Whether it's clothes, sunglasses, cameras, my mind or cold, hard cash ... Something I need always seems to wander off, break or implode right at a crucial moment.

As the days go by and I have had to say goodbye to countless belongings, I can't help but think there has to be a silver lining to this curse of mine. While I'm left scouring drawers and hunting under beds looking for items I've lost, I've got to believe, for my own sanity, that there's a reason . . .

And I think I've finally got it! Even if you don't find what you're looking for during these scavenger hunts -- hopefully after your search you'll be prompted to leave behind a tidier junk drawer and gather and destroy a few of the resident dust bunnies that have made a life under your bed.

This, my friends, is how chaos leads to cleaning.

The same thing goes for spills. You most likely already needed to mop the floor and have been saying so for days, but there's nothing like a bottle of red wine crashing off the fridge and dousing the kitchen to make the chore an immediate priority. And while you're at it, wipe the cabinets down, clean the microwave, do the dishes and clean out the fridge. Phew -- thank you complication fairy -- I needed a little boost.

And haven't we all let our desks go and get a little messy at work? I've heard myself and others proclaim "I need to get my life in order" and I'm almost positive that I've found the solution. Spill your coffee, tea or juice of preference all over your desk. You're forced to throw away unnecessary papers, dust off the surrounding area and quickly conquer the cleaning that comes with disaster relief.

Speaking of which, we all know that Hurricane Wilma was no cup of tea and at the very least, she complicated quite a few lives as the island was lashed by the ocean. But how many people had been collecting junk and accumulating unnecessary knick-knacks until Wilma forced them to do a little house cleaning? How many bars needed a good power washing? The silver lining is that sometimes the world brings us face to face with the very things that we are neglecting.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, we are never going to have everything under control. There will always be weeds in the garden, trash to take out or a squeaky bike begging for our attention, and everyday we pick and choose which chores we're going to deal with and which ones to ignore. Sometimes we choose wisely, and other times we have no choice in the matter whatsoever.

So don't curse the complication fairy when you wake up to find that your wallet is missing and you can't find your keys. Thank her for forcing you to go to the hardware store where you need countless items anyway, and for finally giving you an excuse to replace your horrendous driver's license photo. It's the little things, people -- find them and celebrate.

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@ keysnews.com and to catch up on past ramblings, go to tracirork.blogspot.com.

I may not have change for a $20, but I know of 20 things that are about to change

2009-09-03T17:23:00.000-07:00

(9.3.09)

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

It's no secret that life in general is never -- ever -- going to be "in order."

Change however, is always going to be in constant order, and is even harder to shake than Aretha Franklin's catchy tune "Change, change, change."

OK people, I'm fully aware that these are not the actual lyrics to her song "Chain of Fools," but ironically, I changed the words way back when and couldn't resist getting them stuck in your head at such an appropriate time.

Robert C. Gallagher said it best when he proclaimed that "Change is inevitable -- except from a vending machine."

Right when you think that life or certain situations are going to start simmering down and falling into place, You find out that you're oh, so wrong.

That's when we're all visited by the complication fairy, who messes with our lives in a way so twisted it's dizzying. Haven't you noticed that as soon as you wash your sheets, the cat pukes on your bed, that birds do serious damage to a freshly washed car and dogs know just which shoes to chew? Or right when you feel like your business is booming and your problems are so close to being solved, the whole place burns down leaving you penniless and dumbfounded? Well, "Change, change, change"... because you have no choice.

Every single second, people are changing their clothes, minds, jobs, hobbies, locations, friends, diapers, spouses, and some even change their spouse's diapers. Some changes are welcomed and wanted while others are dreaded and devastating, but they are the common denominator among us all.

Whenever you ask someone "what's new with you?" and they say, "oh, not much," -- don't believe them. Something's changed but everyone's not always up for discussing their life, especially if it's as complicated as things can often get.

And just so you know, generally the good, bad, happy and sad changes collide and bombard our lives simultaneously as part of what I like to call, "The change gang."

You've heard people say "Can anything else go wrong?" Or, "If it isn't one thing, it's five more." I've often heard people say that after their lives have been switched, changed and rearranged.

Truth be told, we can certainly handle a whole lot more than we ever imagined possible, and have to find out the hard way. But it's proof that we are still alive and it's a daily dare not only to go with the flow, but to frolic in the flow. To make the best of the worst and to help anyone you can to do the very same.

There always will be unchecked items on your To Do list, and hopefully there always will be a tomorrow for you to pick up where you left off. Just make sure that you take a little time to notice where you are at any given moment, count your blessings and spend time with those who are important to you, before things get hectic again -- which they always tend to do.

And remember, just when life seems peachy and brag-worthy and all of your ducks seem to be waddling together in a perfect row, watch out! That's when the tide shifts, your peaches rot and your ducks start wandering off along with your sanity.

But fear not, change isn't always a horrendous hustler. It's a fickle and often friendly enemy that can pay you a visit after every emotion has been exhausted and your very existence has been challenged. That's because many people turn to their faith, families, friends and strangers after tragedy strikes.

Which could very well be the entire point of tragedy to begin with.

Many people are currently juggling house guests, bankruptcy, car problems, plumbing issues, family feuds, arrests and death ... So all of these "change, change, changes" are a big part of life. We live through these times, we change because of them, and then we keep on waiting to change some more.

To further inform Miss Informed, please e-mail trork@keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, visit tracirork.blogspot.com.

Have you played with yourself lately? Happiness is in your hands!

2009-08-21T07:23:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork Paradise Staff

(8.13.09)

I just want everyone to take a moment to think about how much fun you have by yourselves. Now don't get all excited you creeps, nothing perverted is intended here.

Do you genuinely enjoy your own company? Do you laugh at your own jokes, dance when no one is looking and find yourself thoroughly entertaining? Well if you don't ... others won't, so start paying attention.

Quality time doesn't have to require a counterpart. In fact, I highly recommend alone time, which is not to be confused with loneliness.

In the past I've talked about remembering to send cards to your grandmas, being generous with your time and other necessary niceties that fill the karma bank and spread some sunshine. But now I think it's time we start investing in ourselves and taking good care of number one.

Some may say it's selfish to seclude yourself from the world and your loved ones, but I say it's selfish not to. If we're not happy with ourselves to begin with, what good are we to anyone else? It's time everyone starts to realize that your happiness depends on you -- not your circumstances.

For example, are you a total grump who could squeeze out a smile periodically but fights the urge just to maintain your snide image? Does everyone you encounter annoy you, seem inferior, and here only to complicate your life? Take a little break to envision rainbows and butterflies or cotton candy and French fries -- whatever makes you happy.

You can't fight a smile forever and you're not doing anyone any favors by being miserable. All around the world there are plenty of cynical, jaded and negative people lurking among us. Just last week I had the pleasure of encountering a few on our own island. To them I say, "You can blame the full moon but I blame you."

"Some pursue happiness -- others create it," someone smart once said and now I'm echoing that sentiment.

You choose to be happy, and you should start every morning by standing in front of a mirror. Quit waiting for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet, your mom to come over and do your laundry or a rich uncle to die and leave you everything. Instead, take a good, long look at yourself. Not your circumstances, but your self.

Guess what? You are someone's Prince Charming ... You are someone's doting mother ... You are someone's boss or mentor and you're "good enough, smart enough and doggone-it -- people like you!"

Now after repeating this Saturday Night Live mantra, flare your nostrils 10 times and try not to laugh. Do the Elvis lip curl and then try and switch sides. Pretty funny huh? Do the dishes in high heels, or clean your house with the music blaring and dance from room to room. Write in a journal and read it often and make your life sound as fabulous as you want it to be. Have fun ... Completely alone.

Key West locals are often lollygagging from birthday party to happy hour with a few barbecues thrown in between. Even during the slow days of summer, there are plenty of festivities to attend, as we happen to cohabitate on a party island of epic proportions.

But for the sake of the entire human race -- schedule a party of one on occasion and make sure you do a little inventory.

Happiness does not depend on what car you drive, how impressive your job is or what kind of family you're blessed/cursed with. Happiness is more of a decision, a state of mind that can affect the poor just as easily as it can avoid the rich.

Money doesn't buy happiness, love doesn't cure all, and dreams don't always come true. In fact, according to Aristotle, it's all quite simple, "Happiness belongs to the self-sufficient."

So, if you want to be happy -- start cheering yourself up! Make yourself the perfect cup of coffee, take yourself on an early morning stroll or flirt with yourself in the mirror while no one's looking. "How you doin'?"

Bottom line: Enjoy yourself -- and others will be tempted to do the same.

To further inform Miss Informed e-mail trork@ keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, visit tracirork.blogspot.com.

I may have just broken the law but if I did, so did you ... and you

2009-08-21T07:20:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork Paradise Staff

(8.6.09)

Now before the cops start breaking down my door I should probably clarify a few things. I didn't rob a bank, beat anyone up or illegally trap lobster. Believe it or not, I was actually trying to make the world a better place by improving the planet's fiscal woes when I committed this questionable deed.

It just so happened that immediately after the alleged and purely innocent act, I couldn't help but gasp and google my way through the Internet to find out if I had indeed just broken the law and defaced a dollar bill.

For the record, I didn't scribble on George Washington's face or write "for a good time call ..." it was much more mature and necessary than that. You see, a while ago I stumbled upon a dollar bill that said "Anyone who receives this will be blessed with a lot of money."

Perfect! It was like an unexpected fortune cookie had just landed in my wallet telling me what I wanted and needed to hear. So I did what anyone else would do and tucked it away waiting for the magic to happen. Well, I'm still waiting, so when I stumbled upon my "lucky" buck the other day, I paid more attention to detail.

It also said, "write this on 10 other bills -- it works." I told myself, "hello -- no wonder you haven't been blessed in the bank yet ... You haven't fulfilled your end of the deal."

Now I know what you're thinking. Nice job idiot! We've all gotten threatening chain letters and e-mails that pester us into pestering 10 others so as not to disrupt our karma. We've ignored and erased them and lived to tell about it with no tragedies directly related to how we handled those pushy suggestions.

But desperate times call for desperate measures, so forgive me for wanting to spread a little hope and sunshine into a financially bleak world (and for selfishly yearning to somehow win the lottery without ever buying a ticket).

Times are tough, so much so, that I could only scrounge up two measly dollars to write the mantra on and possibly secure my fate and fortune. Go figure, and to top it off, had I just committed a felony punishable by up to six months in jail?

After extensive research I'm happy to inform you that I'm not currently a fugitive. Apparently, it's not illegal to write on your money per say ... you're just not supposed to mutilate, cut, glue together or burn your dough (according to title 18, section 333 of the United States Code). Basically, if you can still read and spend the money, you're pretty much OK.

Well that's a good thing for everyone who has stapled a dollar bill with their name on it at various bars and restaurants across the country. There are even a couple places in the Keys were you can find a dizzying array of cash that overlaps, dangles and sheds light on the people who once possessed -- and ultimately ended the ongoing journey of -- a dollar bill.

Money travels far and wide, housed in the pockets of plenty of people from all walks of life. The average life of a $1 bill in circulation is 21 months before it is replaced due to wear, according to the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Think about how many places a dollar can go in nearly a year. How many people it can link together every second and the millions of possibilities of profound contradiction it provides daily.

How many church donation baskets are filled with money once used to gamble or buy drugs? And by the way, how many school lunches or cups of coffee are bought with dollars that were once tucked in a stripper's thong? The list goes on.

You see, passing these notes from person to person has become such a practiced part of our lives that we don't even pay much attention to what we hold in our hands. We don't really take the time to visualize all of the people who have also touched that same piece of paper and carried it through a part of their life.

If they could talk, those little, green, rectangular pieces of paper we see, touch and smell everyday -- would have quite the story to tell ... And some already do. I'm not trying to start a defacing movement here or anything, I'm just saying ... what a limitless way to send a message.

So, to ensure that your day won't be cloaked in chaos and tainted with tragedy, quickly distribute 10 $1 bills that say "Miss Informed is my favorite columnist and definitely deserves a raise."

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keys news.com and to catch some of her previous ramblings, go to tracirork.blogspot.com.

Time for a little drink-o-nomics -- Champagne taste on a beer budget

2009-08-21T07:14:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork Paradise Staff

(7.30.09)

How's it going my fellow penny pinchers? I'm assuming that for many, gone are the days of frivolous spending and carelessness with our cash. Everyone is starting to pay a lot more attention to what they make -- and just how much it takes -- to fund a fun night out with friends.

The results are scary, especially in this town, and the fact that the Green Parrot started taking credit cards certainly doesn't help the situation.

Don't get me wrong, just because many of us are now considered "ballers on a budget" doesn't mean that we can't partake in the parties. We just need to know how to balance our bucks without relying on luck.

Lately I've heard a lot of people saying that "staying in is the new going out." And while I'm pretty sure we happened to be out on the town when this was said, many people are honestly trying to tighten their purse strings, watch what they spend and make the most out of what they've got.

Every month it is important that we're able to afford the necessities (such as rent and electricity) and have a few dollars left over for one's wants and desires. In my case, that always seems to be champagne -- pink if possible -- and good company.

I know that many feel that this drink of choice should be reserved for special occasions such as weddings, engagements or graduations. But I don't like society deciding which occasions are special enough for the bubbly. In fact, I think that the pleasant sound of the cork popping and the fizz of a good pour are cause enough for celebration, but the list could go on and on ... Bubbles and bacon ... Pop a cork for Rork ... Champagne in the rain . . .

Now this could be an expensive habit if I wanted the priciest bubbles or fanciest of surroundings, but I'm happy with the reasonable bottles shared in the comfort of home with the closest of friends. The same goes for dinner parties. Sure we have many wonderful restaurants on every street corner and we should enjoy them all. But just because you're not going out on the town with a vengeance every single night doesn't mean you have to feel like you're missing out. In fact, sometimes when you're cutting corners you can find yourself right in the middle of something important.

Lucky for us, this town happens to offer quite a few social activities that require little funding and provide plenty of fun if you take the time to look for them.

My newest endeavor is joining the Southernmost Bocce League. Team Wish Bliss recently came to be and, so far, I must say that this game, which is kinda like outdoor bowling, is right up my alley! Our team of lovely ladies will be strutting our stuff on Monday nights and have some pretty high hopes. Granted, we've only gathered for a few practices where we whimsically tossed the balls back and forth while sipping white wine spritzers and swapping stories, but we're pretty good.

Plus, we've recruited a coach and have been trying to learn all of the rules so as not to jeopardize our privilege to be part of this highly competitive league. We also have some manly cheerleaders but could always use more, so come in support and BYO whatever -- it's so much cheaper than a bar tab.

As is attending a co-ed softball game, which I used to play a couple nights a week at Bayview Park. The players are terrific, the crowd is enthusiastic and time flies by as you socialize over a little exercise. It doesn't cost a lot to have beer in the dugout and hotdogs in the stands, but it sure means a lot to be a part of something and most importantly, it builds a great tradition.

There are book clubs, runners clubs, sailing clubs, dance lessons, church groups, swimming relays, movie memberships, AA meetings, meet and greets, golf tournaments, countless classes, seminars, lectures, and lessons to be learned on every block of every town, everywhere you go. You can gain experience, enlightenment and entertainment without spending a fortune and even better, you can win life's biggest lottery and find yourself rich in friends.

So bottom line, if you want to save your money -- give away your time. Become a part of something. Join a team. Volunteer. Gather your friends, drink some champagne and brainstorm about what you can do to change the routine and possibly create a whole new one. Tradition can start with you, and it can start today.

If you can pay your bills, you're not too broke to pay attention

2009-08-04T07:55:00.000-07:00

(7.23.09)

Are you a happy camper? Let's just say, for the most part, is your existence relatively unscathed by the touch of tragedy and devastation? Now, we all have our problems and wish things could be better at times, but are you in a place in your life that could be much, much worse?

Good -- I'm genuinely happy that you're happy and now I have a little job for you. If you're happy and you know it -- help a friend.

First of all, it's your civic duty. Secondly, it's rewarding in more ways than one and finally, it's in the best interest of the greater good. We've all heard of random acts of kindness, right? While I'm sure all kinds of kindness are appreciated, I don't think our kindness needs to be necessarily random. In fact, I think it's pretty important that we handpick the objects of our affection because, well, it's plain and simple, some need it a little more than others.

Can't you think of at least one friend or relative whose happy flag is barely flying at half mast? Someone who doesn't complain but has a lot of ammunition if they ever wanted to start? Perhaps someone older who doesn't get out much and would beam for hours if you just picked up the phone to say hello?

Odds are that right now someone you can help is dealing with something horrible -- a health scare, a breakup, bankruptcy or death. Pay attention so that you avoid neglecting those who nurtured you, and make a conscious effort to make someone else's day.

Now, I'm not expecting you to change the world for everybody -- just change the day for somebody and then do it again tomorrow and the next day.

Currently, I'm doing my part by counseling quite a few ladies devastated by recent developments in the relationship department. How am I qualified for such a position you may ask? The answer is simple ... I was appointed. Much like alcoholics choose a sponsor, a couple of my friends who are going through breakups have chosen me as a crutch. That entails early morning coffee talks, late night wine chats, tears, advice, laughter and time -- the most important element.

I call it boot camp for break-ups and it seems to be working. Generally people complain about how there aren't enough hours in the day. That is of course not the case when you happen to be extremely sad and are trying not to call or think about a certain someone. Which is why it is extremely important to have a breakup buddy who's thick-skinned enough to not only listen to the same open-ended questions and wonderment of "what went wrong"? they're also there to answer with "he went wrong, that's what happened."

Then it's all about keeping those teetering on the edge of depression busy, happy and hydrated. What's the best way to cheer someone up and usually the first idea anyone suggests when they want to be of help? Cocktails and company! There's just nothing like slipping into something a little more comfortable and getting down to the core of the issue with friends. Then comes the laughter -- which is of course the best medicine.

Case in point. Everyone knows what beer goggles are, right? They are certainly not an accessory you want to be notorious for sporting and should be reserved for very few special occasions if any. The same goes for booze shoes -- a term that was coined the other night after an embarrassing footwear fiasco.

In her haste to hurry and help a friend, someone in the group, and I won't name any names, threw on two different shoes -- one red and one black -- and didn't even notice. Granted it was dark in her apartment, she was rushing around after a glass or three of wine, and the shoes she picked were somewhat similar.

OK, let's just say that I thought I was wearing my Kino sandals, but it turns out I was kickin' my Ki -- oh -- no's!

Thankfully, I got by with a little help from my friends, who kindly pointed out my tipsy toes before I'd paraded them all around town. We had a few good laughs and somehow I convinced everyone else to swap a shoe so we all looked equally idiotic -- good times.

All I'm saying is that it's fairly easy to pick up the phone, send a card or grab a cup of coffee and offer your time to someone. Take a moment to fill your karma banks, share your sunshine and graciously give when you're able, and receive when you're not.

Everyday your presence is a gift you are able to offer the world -- make sure you're only sharing yourself with worthy recipients.

You're so vain . . . you probably think this column's about you

2009-07-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

(7.16.09)

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

Don't you? We all know a few people who are a little bit self-absorbed. In fact, the world seems to revolve around plenty of people who fail to see the forest for the trees because they're too busy looking at their own branches. The inability to empathize is a maddening condition that affects everyone on occasion and, sadly, is far from curable.

Pretty much if you are not a thoughtful, caring, reasonable and honest person some of the time, odds are you are an arrogant idiot most of the time and deserve a public lashing. Technically (and legally) we're not allowed to do that, which is a shame because I'd be the first to set up shop with a whipping post. Beating sense into the senseless would surely be a booming business but for now, verbal lashings will have to do.

Now I understand that it is somewhat normal to be a little bit self-absorbed and, admittedly, at times even I can be overly concerned with yours truly. After all, we have to be selfish now and then in order to care for ourselves and our families, but there is a huge difference between self-awareness and self-absorption, and I suggest everyone take a little time to note the difference.

For example, checking a colorful weekly publication thoroughly to see if any photos were published of yourself could be considered as being self-aware. On the other hand, creating a colorful weekly publication to ensure your photo will be published is a tad on the self-absorbed side. I'm just saying ...

When you are self-absorbed, most if not all of your conversations are regarding your accomplishments and you're often caught tooting your own horn. In fact, I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if you even brag about being an awesome horn-tooter, the newest Prada bag and a black belt in tae kwon do. Generally, conversations rarely stray from topics you choose, and if they do, you shamelessly insert yourself back into the limelight right on cue. True?

Speaking of shame, some of the seriously selfish don't put a lot of time or energy into their appearance, manners or relationships. Why? Simply because they feel they don't have to. They're fantastic enough as it is and those in their presence should be honored they have the privilege. Please. You can often fool a few minions with your confidence, but when your true colors start to show, you ditch the non-believers and move on without a fight; "if you don't think I'm fabulous, someone else surely will," and on goes the cycle of the plagued people who will never learn.

What about the "one-uppers?" And I'm guessing we're all guilty of committing this faux pas once or twice. But seriously people, no one likes a show off, especially if you are a frequent offender. "Oh, your canoe trip sounds lovely, but I just got back from Tibet where I hung out with the Dalai Lama." If you religiously trump other people's stories to the point of being predictable, take notice ... because others definitely are.

And I think it's safe to say that we've all encountered plenty of individuals who haven't lost an argument in their entire life, or at least in their own huge heads. But let me tell you, just because you're righteous doesn't make you right and similarly, just because you have a few accomplishments under your belt doesn't make you accomplished.

I'll admit that I've gotten carried away while chatting about my joys and sorrows and failed to ask others about theirs. But I quickly take notice and remedy the situation and certainly try not to make a habit out of it. We have friends in order to share our triumphs, vent to when angry, and lean on when sad ... and we are expected to reciprocate. There doesn't need to be a running tally of who owes whom a favor, but if you're only calling your "friends" when you need someone to help you move, it's no secret and it's not very endearing.

Neither is constantly reminding anyone who will listen how amazing you are, what hobbies you enjoy and how you like your coffee. Bring a little more to the table. Inquire about what's going on in the lives of others and kindly pay attention to what you can offer the world and those around you.

There are those who have accumulated and, most importantly, nurtured their friendships over a lifetime, and those who juggle acquaintances when circumstances are pleasant or profitable for them. It's never too late to profit from being pleasant to people, because no matter how good you are at juggling, even you will drop the ball from time to time.

And for those of you who have "You're so vain" stuck in your head, you're welcome, and don't worry, I wasn't talking about you ...

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail Trork@ keysnews.com, and to catch up on previous ramblings, visit tracirork.blogspot.com.

We’re going to party like it’s 1999 or 2009 . . . Or simply because it’s Thursday!

2009-07-09T09:39:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(7.9.09)

As we all know, parties just don’t make themselves. In fact, it’s the people that make the parties and I’ll be the first to admit that because of all of the parties going on in this town, it doesn’t take long for the people to get pooped.

There is a lot of careful planning and preparation that goes into hosting a shindig leading some to believe that it is best to be just a guest, which is still work by the way. However, on other occasions, nothing is better than being the guest of honor or the host with the most and showing off your ability to entertain.

Except for the clean up aspect, which can be like a crime scene investigation that’s full of interesting clues and embarrassing realizations. Did someone really try and make a bloody Mary with Heinz ketchup? And seriously, who thought it would be fun to make mustard ice cubes?

Anyhow, for those of us who call the Southernmost island our home, there are plenty of opportunities to partake in a party or 30 a night, which can be both a blessing and a curse.

The social Mecca that is Key West is so jam packed with events that if you wanted to, you could celebrate something new every day and pretty much live party to party without ever having to grocery shop.

The hustle and bustle of every day chores are often woven into the obligatory chore of making it to a Christmas party, Fantasy Fest, wine tasting, birthday, art show or picnic. Not too mention the beach gatherings, dinner parties, reunions and weddings we’re expected to attend. When you are a friend to many, it means that your “spare” time becomes “their” time, but for the most part you’ll wind up having a good time, so we really shouldn’t complain. (Unless I’m in desperate need of some Traci time after going weeks without sitting on my couch watching the Comcastic cable I pay so much for).

While there are events and parties every day in every town, I must commend the community in the Keys for the ability to both plan and execute fantastic fiestas for all ages. Eventhough very few of us tend to grow up.

Case in point: I remember my mom asking me what I wanted for my 25th birthday and knowing immediately that I was in desperate need of a Slip N Slide if I was indeed going to be hosting a Slip N Slide party.

She couldn’t resist the urge to point out that a few of her friends were helping their daughters my age pick out wedding dresses, while she was hunting for a plastic toy for ages 4 and up. Nonetheless, she came through in the clutch, as did someone else so we had not one but TWO Slip N Slides to skid across, providing fun and pain that lasted for days.

There has also been a blow up bouncy castle birthday party, golf scrambles, pool parties, boat days, sleepovers, bachelorette parties . . . . Plus I have a sneaking suspicion that there will be more to come draining us all of our time, energy and funds.

So, due to limited funds and unlimited festivities, it’s safe to say that if I show up at your party empty handed, it means that I consider my presence to be your present! And rest assured that when my day of birth rolls around in late September, you’re welcome to do the same - show up and smile!

In the meantime, here’s a little present for everyone that is free, fabulous and already provided me with endless hours of entertainment . . . The Web site: textsfromlastnight.com.

A good party always provides a few lasting memories and while you may not remember much . . . Someone else will. So here is a preview of a few of the random, drunk texts people have received and shared on that Web site for our viewing pleasure . . . Enjoy!

“Rough night. sneezed a watermelon seed this morning and apparently I drunk dialed my boss for a ride home. Twice.”

“I want tt clbm rinabw nd ride uncrn”
“What?”
“I wnt tto climb a rainboww and ride a unicornnnnnnnnn”

“Cops are here now. U need to come back. Ur not under arrest. But u need to apologize to the woman for what you did to her cat.”

“I woke up this morning to the buzzer on my oven going off... I cooked fish sticks at 425 degrees for 5 hours last night. my house smells awesome”

“Got weed?”
“I'm really tired of you accidentally texting me when your doing illegal things. I'm taking away your phone.”
“Sorry mom. . . “

To further Inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com and to catch up on past ramblings, go to tracirork.blogspot.com.

These are the Days of our Lives . . . make em good!

2009-07-09T09:36:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(7.2.09)

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives” ~ Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

Why is it that most people only start paying attention to their money when they start running out of it? And I’ll also be the first to say, that also seems to be the case when people start running out of time.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve used this very space to advocate the art of procrastination and believe a little is necessary for one‘s own sanity, but I also wonder if at times it has gotten a little too out of hand?

Are we a generation so plagued by procrastination that we float through life waiting for random things to fall from space instead of actively orchestrating what’s taking place? Have we gotten a little too comfortable on island time and realized that time has gotten away from us?

If that is the case, I’m going to say that right now, more than ever, it is the perfect time to seize the day instead of merely waiting for things to go your way. Let’s face it people, we’re not getting any younger and “A year from now you will wish you had started today,” - said Karen Lamb.

Whether that’s about saving money, exercising, going back to school, or whatever the case may be, get the ball rolling because:

1.) The economy is in the toilet so we should be getting extremely motivated about making more money and spending way less, and 2.) People, both real and famous, have been dropping like flies lately so it wouldn’t be a bad time to throw a little Carpe Diem into the mix before our own time runs out.

"Seize the day and place no trust in tomorrow", goes the ode, warning that the future is unknowable, and that all we are promised is the gift of the present. As well as the gift of other people’s presence in our present, if that makes sense. Parents, grandparents, friends, co-workers, pets and acquaintances share life’s stage with us for a limited time only and we should be grateful for all they contribute, and even say so on occasion.

So yes, this little mind game of carpe diem is to ensure that you have the most amazing life by tricking/motivating yourself into believing every day could be your last. How uplifting. But when you think about the uncertainty of every single thing we encounter, life in general should be lived with a little more edge because you just never know which way things could go.

You should start as many projects as possible, read whatever you can get your hands on, talk to as many people as you can stand and get as much done as your energy will allow.

Am I suggesting that we all be a little more polite, responsible, active and patient in our daily endeavors? Well mostly, but how in the hell are you supposed to be patient when it could be your last day on earth? Seriously?

While I definitely think that we should take more time to savor the small things and put a little more planning into the bigger things, I also think we need to exist with just a little more enthusiasm altogether. Be real about whatever it is that you feel, and be proud of your accomplishments, both completed and those to come.

Now if I died tomorrow, would I be completely satisfied and thrilled with this last column? Not exactly. Let’s just say that I know this is no Pulitzer Prize winner, but at least I finished it. And truth be told, if even one person decided to seize the day with a little more conviction than they used yesterday, I’d be pretty happy. It’s easy to get comfortable in general, but sometimes you have to work at getting comfortable with yourself.

So, as William James smartly said “To change one's life: Start immediately. Do it flamboyantly. No exceptions.”

Now if you decide that your last day on earth is still going to be spent with a few moments of procrastination sprinkled in, allow me to offer you at least one suggestion: Awkwardfamilyphotos.com.

This Web site that is guaranteed to make you laugh, appreciate your family no matter how weird they are, and waste just a little bit of time in your day before you get to seizing it.

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com

Island fever ~ the call it sister season for a reason!

2009-07-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

(6.25.09)

On this island, you can’t escape the ex-factor. Everyone you know at one time or another dated someone else you known and there are tangled webs everywhere you look. Even more so in the summer.

Admit it. Everyone has an ex who dated someone they know or disapprove of. Sometimes unfortunately, this occurs while they are still dating you, and this often goes down in the summer. Whether it is a best friend, acquaintance, co-worker or sister - It seems that people in this town change partners more than square dancers, and everyone gets caught in the chaos at some point in time. So be grateful if this isn’t your year in the sordid spotlight, but be prepared to help someone who is - it is June after all, and July generally isn’t any better.

Think about it. Those of us who have lived in Key West for awhile can attest to the fact that this island is incredibly small. Everyone’s business quickly becomes everyone else’s business - and even more so in the summer. That’s when the Africa heat along with the constant threat of hurricanes keep the tourists at bay.

While there might be thousands of eligible bachelors/bachelorettes out there who don’t come with obvious baggage, plenty of people are going to do what they want to do regardless of the fallout, or any warnings they’ve been offered. They choose the spotlight.

This predictable phenomenon is nothing new (here or anywhere else in the world) and has been referred to as the “sister season” by many old-timers. This is a sultry season where conflicts of interest arise, summertime scandals come alive and friendships often falter because of inappropriate liaisons - sometimes even between sister. Now don’t get me wrong, the trauma of drama rears its’ ugly head year round in plenty of relationships - but I must say that summertime is just a little bit hotter in the tropics.

As we speak, porches around town are overflowing with cocktails and conversation about the budding romances and questionable relationships that are taking place, some way more drastic than others. Right now, plenty of people are discussing what’s politically correct, what’s socially acceptable, and ultimately who is in the wrong…for now. Before you start writing in to say you’re better than that and have more important things to talk about…congratulations….you’re probably a liar and have very boring dinner parties.

Now Key West is a lot like high school, only more equivalent to a college campus both in size and population. After a few years on the island, things start to get a little too familiar. Assuming you’re paying attention, which you’re pretty much forced to do, you can quickly find six degrees of separation (or usually less) between anyone and easily connect the dots between just about everyone you know. Gross!

Just like the tabloids where they list every flame Hollywood stars have dated since the beginning of time. They live in a fishbowl and everyone is kept up to date with their current situations, as well as past endeavors, much like the Key West community. It doesn’t take much to be instantly briefed on the relationship rundown of anyone on the island . . . Just ask. Someone will immediately catch you up - whether they know what they’re talking about or not.

As the Conch Crawls….and as time goes by, the old scandals become disposable as the new ones quickly start taking their place. It’s amazing how interested and involved a community can become and how very necessary friends can be, when one is faced with adversary.

Sometimes it’s harder to get rid of the wrong one than it is to find the right one. I can’t tell you how many deserving, amazing and intelligent women have been stuck with a schmuck for WAY too long. That is until “Dump the Chump” support groups are resurrected and the troops swoop in with champagne to help with the healing. It often takes a village to get rid of the idiot.

We’ve all rolled our eyes when a predictable friend gives the “I’m never talking to him again, this time it’s so over,” speech. Only to find her walking hand in hand days later with Shady McShaderson after hours of careful evaluation proved that he has no redeeming qualities and somewhat of a lisp. . . Help her!

There are a million different Web sites such as E Harmony and Match.com which are designed to put together a compatible couple and give them a happily ever after. Too bad there are probably more people in the world dealing with breakups instead, which coincidentally require just as much of a commitment (if not more) than the relationship themselves. But until someone invents break-up boot camp and dating for dummies, we’re stuck listening to the advise of friends who love us . . . And go figure . . . some even have firsthand knowledge on the subject.

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com.

You made your bed . . . Now sleep in it . . . Or at least try!

2009-07-09T09:33:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(6.18.09)

Clean sheets, fluffed pillows, a slight breeze and silence.

I’ll be the first to admit that there’s nothing better than preparing for and executing a luxurious night of restful slumber.

“There is only one thing people like that is good for them; a good night’s sleep” - Edgar Watson Howe said.

Not a lackadaisical lounge on the couch or a cat-nap with the radio on, but the well-planned and uninterrupted hibernation that we all need and deserve. (Provided our crazy dreams don’t get in the way).

So why is it that for some reason, there are a million things in the world that disrupt this privilege? Snoring, roosters, upstairs neighbors playing high heeled relays, trash men, and that’s just to name a few. Oh how annoying each one is individually, and collectively, they could push a sane person over the edge.

The worst would have to be snoring. The loud, annoying proof that someone within earshot is obviously asleep. Women have resorted to holding their husband’s noses shut, making them wear mouth guards or driving a good old fashioned knee to the back - whatever works. But generally the window of quiet opportunity closes quickly, so hurry and doze off before the roosters start.

And even more annoying than a rooster crowing, is a rooster who sucks at crowing. That’s what I like to call a “cock-a-doodle-don’t”. Let’s just say that not everybody should be allowed to welcome the rising sun, but that doesn’t stop the garbage men does it? While I appreciate their service greatly, why was it decided that 5 a.m. was the most opportune time to shake huge metal bins filled with thousands of glass bottles up and down the street? I’m sure there’s a logical reason, I just find it a bit inconvenient, that’s all.

Now every once and awhile, we all have to take the blame for psyching ourselves out to the point of alertness, thus sabotaging our chance at a sleeping oasis.

Either you’re leaving on trip the next day, you have a big test or a job interview, whatever the case, nights prior to these events are often sleepless. You’re too excited. You can’t stop running through your mental ‘to do’ list and keep checking the clock and doing the math to see how many hours of sleep you’ll get if you fell asleep right now! Forget about it - our active minds ruin any chance of sleep for our tired bodies and we’re left helpless.

It seems that when we need sleep the most, that’s when we’re unable to grasp any because the pressure is on. And then of course, when the pressure is on and we’re required to tackle other necessary obligations, we’re extremely exhausted and can barely keep our eyes open. It’s a double edged sword - can’t sleep when you’re supposed to, can’t help sleeping when you’re not.

And don’t you just love it when you finally fall asleep but you spend the entire night slinking through dark, musty alleys hiding from ninjas that want your sword, which turns into a butter knife before flying away as a butterfly? Yeah - crazy, random, intense dreams that drain your strength, waste your energy, and make you question your mental health - especially if you dare to share them out loud.

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, but no matter how excited you are to tell someone about a dream you had about them, they’ll never care half as much as you do about it. Sure, they may be flattered that you thought of them in a subconscious state, but it always comes out sounding like a crazy acid trip braided with reality that unravels the second you start re-telling it. So keep a dream journal if you wish, but don’t necessarily feel compelled to keep everyone posted when they have a cameo in one of your demented dreams. “You were you, but then you turned into LC from the Hills and I was mad at you because you slept with Sam who was staying with me in Vegas, but I think it was California because there was a beach with a water slide and ….”. You’ve lost me. . . Just stop.

Now Lucid Dreaming is an interesting topic I learned about in a psychology class and studied profusely. However I failed miserably at actually becoming the puppeteer of my own imagination. It’s just not an easy feat to lasso our minds and force places and faces to make sense. That’s just not the way it works. You wait all day to go to sleep and then gamble with the subject matter every night.…sometimes resting can be exhausting.

So relish the times you‘re able to clutch on to 8 hours of restful slumber, and if you want to be a good tourist and help a local sleep… take a rooster home with you.

To further inform Miss Informed, please e-mail trork@keysnews.com.

I’m not going to name names…but I saw you doing the walk of shame

2009-07-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(6.11.09)

On occasion and for several different reasons, people sometimes fail to make it home at night. Late parties with friends, the unexpected love connection and alcohol are all often to blame for a little phenomenon we know as the walk of shame.

Whether it's a walk, more of a jog or even a scooter ride, spotting someone on the walk of shame in this town is like playing a 3-D version of Where's Waldo. It could actually be a sport. Smeared make-up, crazy bed head and an ensemble not intended for breakfast are dead giveaways that someone didn't quite make it home the night before. More than once, I've seen barefoot girls in their party clothes squinting at the sun and looking up and down Duval Street, trying to remember where their hotel is. Now, the island is only 4 by 2 miles wide, but that sure seems big when people are trying to wander back to where they belong (usually without sunglasses, in some sort of hung over pain and harboring feelings of remorse).

Just on a quick, early morning bike ride for coffee, one can stumble across several people sneaking through the streets trying to get out of their limbo: somewhere between saying goodbye to the night and hello to the morning. One can hope and pray that the morning is the only thing you'll have to greet but in this town that's unlikely so be prepared to die of embarrassment. The path from where you are to where you need to be can seem daunting but gather your belongings, suck it up and get it over with.

People often go on these early morning parades surrounded by the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, wearing the familiar fashions of the evening before, or sporting an oversized shacker shirt that the fellas never ever get back. Sometimes shamers are spotted holding their high heels as they meander home to the sound of the roosters. And on other occasions, they're empty handed as it seems they lost their shoes, along with their purse, cell phones and dignity. This happens on college campuses daily and quite possibly on an hourly basis in Key West, so keep your eyes peeled.

The scooter shamers go by fast but are the best to spot because they offer the most info. You not only get to see "Mary Jane" being driven home early in the morning, but you also get to see who she's clinging to.

And how very nice of the guys who assist the ladies in getting home, but pay attention to the route they choose in doing so. Did they proudly cart you down White Street or were back roads chosen as a means to avoid witnesses? I'm just saying...

Sometimes this dreaded phenomenon takes place after Halloween or Fantasy Fest when costumes come into play. That's when things get really interesting. And just so you know, it's impossible to make it from point A to point B under the radar when you're dressed like Spongebob Squarepants. As far as the spectators go, these are the most rewarding walks to witness or even assist with, as I had the pleasure of doing in college after a Pimps and Ho's fraternity party.

The phone call went something like this at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. "Dude, you so have to come pick me up at the Sigma Chi house -- there is no way I'm walking through the quad in a mini skirt and knee-high boots ... please ... I'll love you forever," my friend Jenny whispered into the phone so as not to wake any of our fratastic friends. Of course I showed up to her rescue and while she appreciated having someone to share the shame with over some laughs, she didn't appreciate me honking the horn while I was out front. It couldn't be helped.

Anyhow, the phrase "walk of shame" is defined as "a phenomenon in which a person must walk past strangers or peers alone for an embarrassing reason before reaching a place of privacy."

Since it's a common situation that many face over time, some crafty creators are marketing "Walk of Shame Kits" with proceeds going to benefit Breast Cancer Foundations. The backpack includes a rolled up dress, flip flops, sunglasses, a pre-pasted toothbrush, wipes, call/don't call leave-behind note cards, and a breast cancer awareness bracelet. Seriously? Who is going to set out for a night on the town with a slut bag strapped to their back?

So now that we've talked about the walk, I propose we all play a little game called the "Walk of Shame Hall of Fame" and start comparing stories.

To further inform Miss Informed e-mail trork@ keysnews.com.

Nice can only get you so far . . . Spice can take you the rest of the way.

2009-07-09T09:29:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(6.4.09)

According to the movie Bambi and skunk named Thumper, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

(Cue the cricket sounds).

Too bad if we all followed that advice, we’d be living in a pretty silent world and Miss Informed’s column would end right here. That is not because we are mean-spirited people, but rather because it’s unavoidable and healthy to let your feelings out and purge yourself from frustration whenever possible.

A few people in history have also used the phrase, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, come sit by me!” I certainly appreciate this quote better and have found it far more fitting and realistic.

There are generally two types of emotions that prompt a person to go off on a tangent: Anger and happiness. Think about it, every day when you interact with people they’re either polite and short - offering normal and generic greetings… or they can’t tell you enough about their upcoming wedding/divorce. We are more likely to share our feelings and situations with others when they reach the extreme ends of the spectrum. The most entertaining stories include the best of times or the worst of times. and truth be told, I personally think that the worst of times holds an audience better.

In the past, when I’ve used this space as a venting vault, the words seemed to fly onto the page as I effortlessly reached the desired word count before I felt like I’d even made a dent in the topic. Go figure. Thoughts just flow like a stream when you’re blowing off steam…

Case in point: The Citizen’s Voice. A voicemail box where one can vent anonymously and as often and freely as they’d like. And trust me, there’s never been a shortage of material for that column and editors never have a problem filling that space. Be it the roosters or people failing to pick up their dog’s crap, when we are pissed is when we’re most likely to speak up.

It’s just so easy to go on and on about a bad day where you stepped in gum, your bike got stolen and you found out that Damn Good Foods was going to be closed for a bit. Wa wa wa … we are surrounded by Debbie Downers daily and eventually, we all morph into her on occasion. I’m here to tell you - that’s okay.

I saw a bumper stick once that said “Women don’t burp, fart or poop, therefore they must bitch or they’d explode.”

Our complaints, and those coming from the men as well, are expected and welcomed by others who likely have a few things they’d like to get off their chest. It usually isn’t hard to find a companion to scratch an itch with, especially in this town where like-minded people are generally miffed about the same topics.

On the other hand, I’m a Libra, which means I would love nothing more than to appease everyone and keep everything on an even keel. While of course this is an unrealistic goal, it is even more far-fetched now that my aptly named column “Miss Informed” debuted and I’ve been allowed to ramble on about whatever.

Every week it’s guaranteed that I will prompt a reader to become a writer and make me fully aware of my Miss Takes and Miss Prints. Thankfully, for my sanity and entertainment, plenty of people write in to agree with me and tell their own stories, which are extremely appreciated and often hilarious.

In a small town such as Key West, it is important that we try our best not to step on anyone’s toes and avoid weaving any tangled webs. However, it is also important that we exercise our sense of humor and offer our opinions, whatever they may be . . . and I’m not going to lie, I’ve found that if you’re not Miss Behaving too badly, you can get away with some Miss Chief every once and awhile.

“A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort,” - Herm Albright.

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com.

Editor’s note: The resort mentioned in last week’s column does offer locals VIP treatment and access to the pools and spas if they purchase an exclusive lifetime membership. There is a one time initiation fee of $5,500 with a monthly rate of $250. From July 5 through September, all interested locals and a friend are invited to come in for a free day pass and legitimately take advantage of the hotel’s amenities. For more information, call 305.293.6201 or email thebeachclub@luxuryresorts.com.

Damn it feels good to be a local!

2009-07-09T09:23:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(5.28.09)

I plan on using this space for good and not evil. To offer insightful outlooks, wonderment and curious observations...a nd most of the time I will. But on other occasions, someone or
something in this town infuriates me and I’m tempted to publicly vent.
Currently ~ I am still peeved…so bare with me for just a moment as I vent for just a bit.

I won’t name any names, but a security guard at a large hotel that rhymes with Nasa Arena asked that I leave the pool with my friends because we were not guests.
There were three of us. We all bought drinks, tipped well and were nursing hangovers thus far from rowdy.

However after an hour or so, we were told that we were no longer welcome. What! I was
tempted to start name dropping people I knew who worked at the resort and inform the guard that two out of the three of us used to work there as well. But I simply grabbed our stuff and left in a huff without argument and wondered what these people were thinking.

It's officially summer guys - where’s your local spirit?

Two days earlier at the same stunning establishment, three of us received the exact opposite treatment. We were soaking in the rays and sipping deliciously frozen cocktails awarded to us by the friendly bartender . . . and given a local discount. We tipped well, took care of Bob the towel guy and had a splendid day by the pool. Plus, there were still ample spots available for hotel guests so we weren’t cramping anyone else’s style either. It was perfect.

The next trip…not so much. As I mentioned, it’s summer, so all of the Key West establishments are going to need the locals to keep the ball rolling during the slow season. And trust me, word travels fast when our pride is sequestered.

Now that the island has reached African temperatures, we all sport glistening faces, rosy cheeks and slightly damp attire. We work too much and too often so when it comes
to our days off, we treat ourselves - and rightly so. We are pool, boat or beach bound. We realize that submerging oneself in water is one of two ways to squelch the flames within, and holing up inside with the AC blaring and the blinds drawn is not exactly the most social option.

From personal experience, I know that there are a plethora of pools, restaurants, resorts and shops around town that not only welcome the loyal locals, they also reward them with discounts and special treatment. Terms of endearment intended to pamper the people who live, work and play here. Plus, we also have frequent visitors and are often asked by random people the best of the best in Key West. And let's be honest, we are not shy about dishing out our likes, dislikes and sheer hatred for certain establishments.

For the most part, all of my friends are in, or used to be in, the service industry, including yours truly. We know the drill - the long, fast, furious days/nights dealing with less than stellar, stereotypical tourists who sometimes ask questions unworthy of a response. But we have to answer and respond nicely nonetheless, because they pay our bills. But when a local arrives, they generally toss a heftier tip and give servers little if any grief.

Locals understand the daily grind and are generous because of it. They should not only be welcome, but I believe we should all be VIP.

On the other hand, I do understand that the guests at our hotels are paying a pretty penny to enjoy uninterupted use of their pools and beaches. But, I also understand that at this day in age and due to our country’s financial woes, many resorts are no where near capacity and could actually use a little extra business…who couldn’t?

I should also mention that there are many hotels in town that do offer local discounts at their spas and bars and that is how their acquire repeat customers and good street credit from the locals.

Locals: The people who live in a vacation destination but are constantly chased by nagging responsibilities. So I must say that it is lovely to be able to lose them all for a bit and drift away in thought and calmness at various places in paradise where we are welcome. If you work some place where locals are loved, let me know so perhaps next week I can inform my avid readers where they can go to receive the VIP treatment we all deserve.

And as I said before, I would rather use this column to promote kindness and not hang people out to dry when they ruffle my feathers. But just so you know, I have the
space . . . so remember this face! And be afraid . . . be very afraid . . . because if Miss Informed becomes Miss Treated, that could certainly be a big Miss Take!

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com

I was going to be a procrastinator….but decided it could wait ‘til later

2009-07-09T09:19:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(5.21.09)

Last week I focused on seizing the day, which is something I wholeheartedly recommend doing . . . on occasion. But on other occasions, I think that it is perfectly acceptable and completely normal for one to do the exact opposite . . . Procrastinate.

The magnetic force that seizes your soul and drags your mind towards everything but the task at hand. Like when you’re supposed to be conducting a routine cleaning but somehow find yourself drawn to the junk drawer, meticulously sifting through stuff as if you’re mining for gold. Or when you’re supposed to be packing for a trip you end up trying on all of your clothes and cleaning out your closet until 3 a.m. It is the act of putting off, delaying or defering an action to a later time . . . It’s a nervous habit we exhibit when it’s time to get things accomplished and it is territory. . . Procrasti-nation.

This is a nation to which we all belong, so don’t even try and deny your citizenship. Think about it, even simple tasks like making a ‘to do’ lists are actually distractions from immediately starting or finishing a project. It’s unavoidable, especially considering the plethora of distractions available at our fingertips. In fact, I bet that while you’re reading this column there are a few chores or errands you’re momentarily postponing or avoiding. Don’t feel guilty, we all need to take a few mental vacations throughout the day, just don’t forget to check back in eventually.

Whether it’s looking up recipes, celebrity gossip, blogs, horoscopes, current events, videos, music or spending time in the devil’s playground (myspace, Facebook, or Twitter), be careful. These avenues are all time consuming ways to ensure that you get very little accomplished. I should know. I can’t even begin sit down and allow this column to present itself until I’ve wasted time and energy online….mostly on Facebook. It’s poison and it gives you a front row seat to everyone else’s lives while you take a break from yours.

Before I know it, I’m completely invested in birthday photos of a 2-year-old I’ve never met belonging to someone I may or may not have gone to high school with. Or I’ve spent way too much time skimming through photos of other people’s vacations or weddings or quizzes that determine what type of shoe they would be if they were indeed a shoe. I find myself hypnotized by the status updates that change constantly and keep one fully aware of who has an ear ache, who’s needs a coffee, a nap, a boyfriend, who hates Mondays and what everyone is doing for dinner. Sometimes they are funny and entertaining, but often this is just mindless and useless information that we absorb instead of focusing on other obligations of much more importance.

Like checking your horoscope, both in the paper and online, to see what kind of day it’s going to be for a Libra, or the rest of you folks. On a few occasions, mine has even promoted procrastination, suggesting I enjoy a nature walk or take a nap before tackling any duties . . . and who am I to argue with the stars?

That is until the panic sets in and I’m flirting with a deadline that needs to be met. In college, I actually turned in a final project for my video production class entitled “Sex can wait, don’t procrastinate”. It was a public service announcement about the dangers of waiting until the last minute to study. And . . .coincidentally it was filmed, edited and turned in at the last minute. I told the professor I wanted to end the semester with a bang and actually got one of the best grades in the class. Go figure. But sometimes we do our best work under pressure. You know, the whole ~ game’s tied, bases are loaded, two outs and you’re up to bat scenario.

But I’m honestly trying to make sure this doesn’t become a horrible habit.

At least this time while facebooking and delaying my column I can honestly say that I was conducting research…

To further inform Miss Informed, please e-mail trork@keysnews.com.

I took the plunge and you might as well, the world could end in 2012

2009-07-09T09:12:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(5.14.09)

So last week on my boyfriend’s birthday, we did something crazy. Something that I’ve always wanted to experience and an event that I will cherish for the rest of my life ~ we went skydiving!

It was beautiful, exhilarating, epic and spiritual, and something that I am proud I had the nerve to accomplish. But if I hadn’t been advised to keep this impending adventure a secret from my mother and my logical friends, the outcome could have been much different as they would have talked me out of it immediately. And I must say that delivering the news after it had already successfully happened was much more rewarding for all parties involved.

Now a couple days after throwing myself out of a plane, the parents arrived in Key West to celebrate my mother’s birthday, which was closely followed by Mother‘s Day. They made the trek from Kansas to the tropics to visit their responsible daughter on her faraway island. Everyone generally curses the place I call home because no one ever makes it here for a visit unscathed. They always seem to have setbacks due to canceled flights or lost luggage, and this trip was no exception. So, after a strenuous day of mechanical problems and rerouted planes, they finally plopped down on the couch in my air-conditioned apartment and had a moment to relax. That is until I informed them that I had recently jumped out of a plane at 10,000 feet and wanted to show them the DVD. Oh joy.

Needless to say, mom was less than thrilled to watch a video of her little girl dangling out of a tiny plane before leaping into the sky, high above the clouds with her life in the hands of a South African named Brutus strapped to her back. My dad on the other hand, was more supportive of yet another one of my crazy adventures, which has always been the case when compared to my rational mother.

As she paced around with her blood pressure rising, I had to remind her that the deed is done and I’m still alive ~ happy birthday! She’s been through a lot over the years so she is sort of getting used to my brother and I dropping bombs like these out of the blue. (You know, kind of like the ‘Hey, I’m selling my car and moving to Key West” incident).

She barely even rolled her eyes after my brother Colin graduated college with a psychology degree and said he was either going to become Britney Spears’ bodyguard or enroll in stunt man school in Australia (which of course dad thought were both reasonable career paths). To further comfort mom, Colin said that nothing we do now is going to matter anyway because we’re all going to die in 2012. (Perhaps he has a future in motivational speaking).

Anyhow, this apocalyptic theory was discussed in one of his philosophy classes and ever since he mentioned it, I’ve heard the subject pondered everywhere from dinner parties to the History Channel. According to the doomsday predictions of many, the Mayan calendar stops on what will be Dec. 23, 2012, and the world as we know it will come to an end. Lovely. I bet the skydiving business will be booming that year!

But all joking aside, scientists and scholars say there may be a shift in the galactic alignment, the earth could be annihilated by another planet, and we only have three more years to pack in a lifetime of living . . . Or this could be crazy speculation similar to that surrounding the Y2K panic and life will indeed go on.

Regardless, it’s worth contemplating. Think about it, how different would your Monday be if you knew you were going to die on Tuesday? I doubt laundry would be at the top of the “to do” list as you re-evaluate your priorities. If you know your time is limited, you make the most of your experiences, your relationships, your life in general, and you don’t sweat the small stuff.

It reminds me of a country song about skydiving, Rocky Mountain climbing and riding a bull named Fu Man Chu. Tim McGraw sings about a dying man who hopes that everyone gets the chance to live like they were dying. It’s about seizing the day, treating each moment as a gift and cherishing those you love. So I jumped out of a plane two miles above the ground and floated above the clouds with the man I love (no, not Brutus). And I suggest that everyone else should also throw a little adventure into the mundane whenever the chance presents itself.

So just in case the Mayan’s are on to something, I advise that everyone to go left on occasion instead of going right, that you accept invitations you would rather deny and to just shake life up in general for your own sake. As the saying goes, “If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up to much space,“

But please don’t go off the deep end, become selfish and forgo all other responsibilities while you go mountain climbing or bull riding. Just don’t put your wants or desires on a back burner either…that’s all.

It’s our responsibility to carve out the lives we want for ourselves. We hand pick activities to fill the moments that become our existence . . . and we can be as creative or as boring as we want. So what have you done lately that you’ve been dying to do (no pun intended)? And what in the world should we plan for Dec. 22, 2012? I‘m thinking about throwing a “live like you are dyin’ but hopefully the Mayans are lyin,” party!? Let me know if you’re interested!

To further inform Miss Informed, e-mail trork@keysnews.com.

Have you met my friends, Miss Guided, Miss Led, Miss Understood and Miss Taken?

2009-07-09T09:08:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(5.7.09)

I’m sure we can all recall moments in our lives where we’ve been steered into confusion and looked like idiots. Perhaps we misunderstood or misconstrued someone’s directions, or we took bad advice and were misled by another idiot. Then there are times when stress or sleep depravation leads one to absent mindedly put the cereal box in the fridge and the milk carton in the cabinet. Whatever the case, we’ve all felt like a head case at some point in time.

I will be the first to admit when I’ve pulled a “Traci”, and I love the fact that plenty of my friends rush to inform me after they’ve pulled one as well.

Generally these moments and mix ups are sandwiched between sane and productive times, so no need to have any of us committed as of now.

Have you ever hurried to get a Blockbuster movie back on time only to learn you had returned an empty box? They call AND write you a letter informing you of your stupidity, by the way.

Did you know that there is a huge difference between evaporated and condensed milk? While attempting a turkey casserole, I created a sweet, meaty mess we named Dessurkey, and promptly tossed after taking one horrific bite.

I may be alone on this next one, but has anyone else gotten confused while trying to pay their Comcast bill on Kennedy Ave.? I accidentally dropped my check in the trash can next to the payment slot and walked away. This error was not discovered until the following month when I went to pay the overdue bill and almost did the same thing again! I walked right up to the trash can and opened the slot before I spotted the payment slot on the wall and had an “Aha moment!

These events are to be remembered and used for enlightening purposes throughout our lives. As a first grader, I was supposed to “put a ring” around various animals and objects on a piece of paper for a homework assignment. Seriously, how hard could this be?

I’ll never forget how puzzled I was after learning I had gotten it all wrong. I turned in my assignment with the satisfaction of a job well done and was shocked when the teacher asked why I had turned in a blank piece of paper. What? Are you kidding me?

“It’s not blank,” I said in amazement as I looked at the assignment I was both proud and protective over.

“Then why didn’t you put a circle around the bird? Or the cow? Or the fence?” The teacher asked while I looked at her, insulted and confused by what she failed to see.

“You didn’t say to put a circle ~ you said to put a ring,” I said, pointing out the tiny diamond ring on the bird’s little toe, the sparkler around the cow’s hoof and the bling bling diamond fastened to the fence.

If only she would have said circle . . . Because when I hear the word “ring” it can mean only one thing. . .jewelry! My mom saved that assignment, which is tucked away with other masterpieces including a spelling test where I misspelled “ship” in a rather offensive way...

A few years back while ordering office supplies for the Citizen, I was trying to buy the most reasonably priced items instead of the most expensive pair of scissors. (Mostly because I was told to tone it down after splurging on blue and pink colored notepads for the reporters, which I thought made life a little more fun.)

Unfortunately, when the reasonably priced scissors arrived, I discovered why they were so cheap. They were tiny little scissors for Kindergartners in bright colors with rounded 2 and a half inch long blades! Citizen photographer Rob O’Neal patiently man-handled the tiny scissors with a straight face and made them work while teasing me only a little bit. You’re a good man, Rob.

Personally, I think we need these complications in our lives too keep things interesting. Mistakes build character, teach us lessons and keep us busy. Although you may be embarrassed at the time, these flubs and follies connect us all in our imperfect world.

However, while these little setbacks are comical, pulling too many “Traci’s” in a row isn’t recommended, as there is such a thing as building too much character. So, pay attention to detail, ask for directions when confused, and if you want something, be clear and concise about what it is you want. Otherwise, you might find that you and those around you are running around in rings….I mean circles.

Sometimes it is not our achievements that define and build us, but rather it’s the ways in which we’ve been wrong that show our true colors. The times in between our successes . . . where we’ve screwed up, laughed about it with friends, dusted ourselves off and marched on down the road.

The Greenest grass is usually right under your . . .ass

2009-07-09T09:02:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(4.30.09)

Whether it be about where to live, what to drive or who to spend your life with, we all make choices and change our minds about them over and over again until we die.

Everyone struggles with decisions daily, allowing us numerous opportunities to over-analyze what we want and question our many options. We consider how others may be affected by what we say or do. We take forever trying to decide on something and then we spend forever doubting our decisions, big and small.

This, my friends, is the “Grass is Greener Complex“, and is not something to take lightly. It is a disease that can ruin the greatest of accomplishments and stain the most superb of situations. It is a creepy and sneaky doubt that takes over to make you question your conquests, even those as simple as what to order at a restaurant. The complex makes you compare yourself to others and ultimately admit that they have something you want for yourself.

This is also something I refer to as the Surf ‘N Turf Syndrome. You know how this goes, you order the steak but wish you had ordered the lobster. Or you choose the lobster but as soon as the waiter leaves you start craving the steak. The obvious choice, which is more expensive because it’s highly reliable, is the option that rewards you with meat from both the land and the sea.

Just like the most welcomed advice a woman can hear while shopping, “Which one should I get? This one, or this one…”

“Get them both!” Ahh, the sweet, selfish words we want to hear that guarantee satisfaction... Or do they?

Don’t be surprised that when your surf and turf arrives, you spot a wedge salad dripping with bleu cheese that appeals to your appetite way more than what‘s displayed in front of you. And sure enough, your two new dresses are definitely awesome, but not half as cute as these shoes that appear while you’re heading out the door. Coulda,, shoulda, woulda.

Sometimes it’s not even your conscious self who makes these decisions during times when your motor functions fail. There have been plenty of occasions where I’ve known exactly what I was going to order, told others at the table my intentions, and then suffered from Turrets Syndrome when the waiter arrives, blurting out something that’s the exact opposite of what I wanted. What the? Sometimes there are just too many choices and we crack under pressure, I guess.

So how do you ensure that you’re in control of what you want and get exactly that? When it comes to food, number one is a salad bar. It’s the perfect place for indecisive people who crave instant gratification, and don‘t we all? In Key West, besides Braza Lena’s colossal and pricey spread, the only other salad bar I know of is at Albertson’s . . .and it is fantastic. Several laps around, carefully selecting veggies soon to be smothered in Ranch, is so very rewarding and a winner every time. No communication needed, grab a plate, analyze and arrange your masterpiece.

Switching gears to the sweet side, there already exists a masterpiece of unparalleled proportions. Recently I’ve seen a commercial showing two very tempting Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and the words “Because no on one should have to choose between peanut butter and chocolate…” Well done . . .and oh so true . . . and never a decision that requires a second guess. Chocolate or peanut butter? Why pick one if two is twice the fun? The more the merrier right?

Although I wouldn’t recommend you apply those last few analogies when debating whom to date. (Unless, of course, all parties involved are actively aware of each others‘ involvement).

So if the grass in your hypothetical yard starts to lose its luster, it’s alright to be selfish. To look out for yourself. To go after what you want and most importantly - to get it. But it should be said that ideally, you can get what you want and avoid hurting others in the process. So alas, you see some greener grass??!!! Just be sure that you’ve sold the house before you go moving in down the street, you know what I mean?

And if your green grass complex arrises over not having the family, education, career or image that you want, take a second to count your blessings. The Rolling Stones said “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find - you get what you need.”

Oh yes. . .Indeed. So focus on what you have and make an effort to make it better. Sometimes, we’re too busy thinking about the blessings that other roads could have bestowed upon us, that we pay little attention to what we already have in front of us.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: choose wisely what you cherish and love loyally what you choose, because he who has the most, has the most to lose.

Keep it classy Key West ~ We’ve got a rep to protect

2009-07-09T08:55:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(4.23.09)

Last week’s column about raising the bar before going to the bar generated a lot of response from the men out there.

Men who shower, shave, own sport coats and make a conscious decision to represent themselves respectfully spoke up to set the record straight.

Some sent in sassy photos of how they clean up (thank you, Austin). Others wrote in to say that they completely agree with me, as do their wives, about how more people need to take pride in their appearances - both men and women.

Now once again, I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t gifted with the most stylish of upbringings. Topeka, Kans. It’s not exactly a fashion Mecca and growing up surrounded by “Who Farted?” hats by no means grants me the ability to pass judgement…but I’m gonna.

“The problem in Key West is the guys who dress like a bum get the babes!! It's the womens fault!! Guys will do whatever you guys require. We are trained seals!!” wrote Dr. Bruce.

Well I hope there are plenty of seals reading this column because we (the ladies) are ready to teach.

I’ve been conducting extensive research with self-proclaimed group of Women Who Whine about men (while drinking wine), and let’s face it, we have plenty of ammunition.

We are tenacious and loquacious ladies whose opinions are elevated with the presence of good cocktails and good company. The topic of your hygiene has been discussed at length and it must be said that we have nothing against hard working, blue-collar men who get dirty for a living. In fact, many prefer those who crunch steel over those who crunch numbers and are impressed by your strength and manliness. But there’s a time and place for everything, and we appreciate it when you shower your manliness off before wandering out into the world, that’s all.

Because truth be told, we’re not going to be accepting drinks or dancing with someone who looks like they’ll leave their mark on our clean clothes.

In other news, there are some men out there whose shoes stink so badly that they have to leave them outside to ensure getting a good nights sleep. If that is indeed the case, perhaps you could spring for a spare pair instead of hoping we don’t notice. If you can smell them, than we can smell them, despite your effort to seal in the stench. And for those of you in flip-flops . . . Please don’t abuse this privilege. If your feet look like you hijacked Barney Rubble’s car and propelled yourself cross-country, please don’t showcase your dirty stumps for our viewing pleasure. Consider the tub before you consider the club, alright?

Now touché m‘ladies! It’s time for me to address the other side of the coin. First of all, beauty sleep isn’t an old wives tale. It is in one’s best interest to crawl into bed early once and awhile ~ clean, moisturized and hydrated. Just because we live in a party town doesn’t mean you have to be at every party. Do us all a favor and stay out of the spot light long enough to recharge. There’s nothing wrong with being a woman who wines on occasion, as long as you’re a woman who waters often.

Earl, who has seen more chain smoking, tattooed, dehydrated young women than he would care to, wrote in to point out an interesting observation. “Some of these local girls, if you were to pinch their cheek and pull gently, instead of snapping back, the skin would stay there! I call them "hundred yard girls"…. They look good from about a hundred yards away.”

And I must add that for every young woman who looks older than her years, there are 10 older women dressing way younger than theirs. We can’t get away with bra tops forever ladies. What makes you think that another layer of fabric is going to hoist your chest up the way under wire and hooks do? It’s one step away from going braless which is way more flattening than flattering and not a good idea for grown ups.

All I’m saying is take another look in the mirror before you go out presenting yourself to the masses. Is what you’re wearing and how you look an accurate portrayal of who you want to represent? Would you be doing yourself a favor by swapping shirts or plucking a unibrow before hitting the town? Should you be a good friend when you see that a faux pas is being committed? Of course. It is up to us to right the many wrongs that wander amongst us daily.

Keep it classy Key West, and start by keeping it covered. I for one am a little sick of running into the midriffs of the middle aged. If the T shirt you are wearing is where your kid goes to college, you have no business tying it in a knot and showing off your stretch marks.

I’m sorry but Fantasy Fest is in October people, plan accordingly.

And for the record, T shirts that say things such as: “60 percent of the time it works all of the time,” are not appreciated by us ladies and cause your stock to drop tremendously. Wearing shirts that say stuff, means you don’t have to say a word . . . You’ve already been pegged.

Hey guys ~ Let’s try raising the bar before going to the bar!

2009-07-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(4.16.09)

My recent observation should come as no surprise: Little (if any) preparation is needed to get ready for a night out in Key West. We are a casual, beachy village with a very lax dress code at even the finest of establishments. A tropical island whose stores have signs boasting: No shoes, no shirt, no problem.

Well sorry guys, I beg to differ.

Not completely of course, as there are plenty of activities and venues where nothing more than a swimming suit is required. Plus, I’m well aware of the fact that many nights out begin at happy hour, lunch, or even breakfast with mimosas. Many people, including yours truly, have coasted through the day and into the night without a thought or a care about what to wear. The “come as you are” mentality of the Florida Keys is a charming sentiment and a comfortable notion. However, I think a few of us have perhaps gotten just a little too comfortable with that notion.

What do you call a Key Wester in a tie? The defendant. Now that has been a long-standing joke and many take pride in this town‘s rustic reputation. Many locals make a living working on fishing boats, dive boats, and jet skies under the Florida sun. Many work nights closing down restaurants and bars and a nightcap is a means of maintaining ones sanity rather than social life. I get that.

But I don’t think it would hurt if the men in this town tried to step it up a notch while heading out to catch a band or grab a beer. You can save the suits and ties for weddings, court, and Christmas parties, but a little bit of effort made on occasion certainly couldn‘t hurt your chances of landing a sexy lady.

Friday night a group of girls and I couldn’t help but notice that there wasn’t a single guy in the bar that we didn’t want to hose off and scrub with a brillo pad. We had swapped dresses, put on make-up and perfume and marched into a sweaty cluster of grimy and grisly men. I understand that your worn out T-shirts and sweat-stained hats are comfortable and obviously reliable, but come on guys! It’s just as easy to wash your hair and pull a collared shirt over your head, right? And with the summer heat sizzling more and more each day, how can you stand those straggly beards?

Now before you go getting your granola ready to throw at me, understand that I‘m not suggesting we march around in gaudy, glamorous, get-ups. This isn’t about being superficial and showing off the latest brand names - that’s mainly why I left Dallas. But come on ~ do you really need to rush off to the Parrot without brushing your teeth? The island is 4 by 2 miles wide . . . you can’t live too far away from where you‘ve been and where you‘re headed. Can’t you make it to the shower before hitting the streets? And don’t say that you can’t afford a few nice shirts and shorts . . . Ross is no secret. Perhaps you could opt to stay in a few nights and get a new wardrobe from what you save on your bar tabs.

Before I incriminate all of the men in this town as fashion failures, there are plenty out there who should be commend on their daily effort to look dapper. Most are older, gay or tourists, but a there are a few guys my age who take enough pride in themselves to peel their paint stained pants off before going public. And since I’ve already claimed one of these hunks as my own, I just want to make sure there are others out there for my hot single lady friends to snatch up.

Just because we’re famous for Sloppy Joe’s bar doesn’t mean we need a bunch of sloppy Joe’s strutting around this town. I know it’s hot out and many choose function over fashion, but it doesn’t have to be an either/or scenario. We need Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to come turn this town around and replace fishing shirts with button downs and ripped pants with at least something clean and presentable. Nothing too dramatic, just slight adjustments that can make a serious difference.

As the saying goes, you never get a second chance to make a first impression. Well, luckily for those of us living in itsy bitsy Key West, you get multiple chances to make plenty of impressions, just don't keep making the same one - especially if it's not a good one!

I’m merely suggesting that if you want to make an impressive impression, brush your teeth, handle your hygiene, and at the very least and for God’s sake - burn your overalls.

To yacht or not . . . that is not a question you need ask twice.

2009-07-09T08:43:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(4.9.09)

Everything is better on a boat. I have to say that after extensive research on lakes, ponds and oceans, I’ve concluded that life in general improves when you’re on a vessel ~ preferably one on the water, not sitting on a trailor.

The real thrill of boating is achieved when you take off with the wind in your face and the sun in your eyes. (From my research I can also conclude that the thrill quickly fades if alarms start going off, water starts seeping in, the weather changes drastically or a swarm of bugs attack).

But whether you’re going fishing, camping, island hopping, kayaking or yachting, it’s a ritual to be relished and the details should be devoured. This past weekend we joined a bunch of other boats loaded with happy people at a nearby island. Yes, it’s April, but temperatures are already scorching, the water is 83 degrees and while it might not be the case elsewhere in America, for us….Summer has arrived!

Locals have the luxury of being surrounded by water throughout the year, but come summertime - boats, water, beaches ….they all become mandatory for our survival and our sanity. Collecting ice, water, fruit, adult beverages, Super Soakers, hats, sunscreen, Dion’s chicken and friends becomes a weekend tradition and one not to be taken for granted.

Since I’ve lived in Key West for the past 5 years, I’ve grown accustomed to the warm, crystal blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico. I’ve had many sunset sails, fishing excursions that took us nearly to Cuba and the Bahamas, camping trips, parasailing adventures, jet ski tours….. and I recommend all of them and then some.

I also recommend exploring Lake Sherwood in Topeka, Kans., where I grew up tubing and skiing in the muddy waters every summer. Or canoeing through rivers in Arkansas or Colorado. It doesn’t matter where you are, it just seems that everything is better on a boat . . .It’s impossible not to laugh while tubing……except immediately following a wipe-out or while desperately trying to avoid one.
It’s impossible not to look peaceful on boat . . . Unless the Dion’s chicken grease coats the boat and causes one to tumble.
And finally, it’s impossible to take a dip in the ocean and not feel refreshed….unless you didn’t notice your friend threw a chum bag over the side and you were swimming with dead fish.

But generally, it’s all in good fun and the memories made are worth retelling because . . . Well, because everything is better on a boat.

I’m quite aware of the fact that many people have lived in Key West for years and never been out on the water. That is a tragedy of the worst degree and something we should all want to change. To see the islands from the outside in is sinfully satisfying . . . You can finally remove yourself from the chaos and soak in the quietness of the Keys from a boat. Or you can get rowdy with friends and take over an island with Bocce and beer and savor the times when the water and sky seamlessly meet and float your days away.

So if you have a boat, share it. If you need one, dare it to happen. Just do something! It’s everyone’s civic duty to take advantage of the paradise found offshore. It is up to us to appreciate the sparkling seas and the sandy white islands while the rest of the country struggles to shake off the snow.
The sand is hot, the beer is not and the islands are ours for the taking.

Here are a few quotes about boats to soak in:

“There is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.” Kenneth Graham.

“Should you find yourself in a chronically leaking boat, energy devoted to changing vessels is likely to be more productive than energy devoted to patching leaks.” Warren Buffett.

“I was proud of the waves I had made, but wondered how many boats I was supposed to rock.” Phil Donahue.

“Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.” William Shakespeare.

“Only the guy who isn’t rowing has time to rock the boat.” Jean-Paul Sartre.

“A lot of people ask me if I were shipwrecked and could only have one book, what would it be? I always say ‘How to Build a Boat’.” Stephen Wright.

Want an amusing way to exercise? Try laughing your ass off!

2009-07-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(4.2.09)

Laughter is a wonderful phenomenon which should be practiced and praised by us all daily. In fact, multiple times a day, we should find ourselves throwing back our heads with genuine laughter - as well as providing a giggle to others whenever the opportunity should arise.

It’s one of our first celebrated achievements as a baby, a must have accessory for every photo, and a way to communicate in any language. Laughter often presents itself in welcomed situations, like after someone tells a funny story or joke or any other event where a laugh is the desired reaction. But on occasion, it arrives uninvited and with a vengeance. This generally occurs while we are watching a sad play, sitting in a quite library or any other time we’re expected to be calm, cool and collected. And let me be the first to say, there’s nothing calm, cool or collected about trying to suppress a laughing fit. The sounds that come out of our faces while struggling to keep things slightly above a smile are far more revolting than any a little chuckle.

Laughter also rears it’s head at times when perhaps concern or empathy would be the most appreciated response. For example, when someone slips and falls down, or breaks something of value, like glass, a bone or their pride. I don’t know why, but I am one of those people who is genuinely concerned, but It’s hardly evident because I’m laughing through my tears while asking, “are you okay?” (Snort, snort, chuckle, gasp).

I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Unless of course there’s blood or any other trace of severity, in which case the joke is definitely over. But if not, I will laugh until my face hurts and my stomach muscles get an ultimate workout.

This is something my friends and I call “Windsor Laugh-a-lotties”. It’s arguably the best ab workout in the free world, it’s been around since the beginning of time, and it seriously rivals the popular “Windsor Pilates” DVds.

Luckily for mankind, if you’re in a rut for a laughing fit - and we’ve all been there - there is a little show on TV called America’s Funniest Home Videos. Now I know the monologue is a bit cheesy and the episodes with Bob Saggett are borderline annoying, but stick with it and I dare you not to laugh.

Anyone who knows me at all, is fully aware that I cannot pass by this television show without selecting it or nagging others until they land on my beloved AFV. This series, which I predict will last forever, has been and will continue to be so popular because real life hands us some pretty funny moments. Granted, these moments are often not immediately funny to some because they’re accompanied by some sort of pain or inconvenience, but to others it’s hilarious.

These moments are raw, real captured on video and shared for our amusement…it’s a glorious thing. We’ve all had some stellar run ins with walls, floors and other people and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have at least one amusing wipeout under your belt. But thanks to the wonderful world of television, we are provided with musical montages where several of these circumstances are strung together and played to music. These collages of comical clips barely allow you to catch your breath let alone digest or remember them. They merely exist to bring a smile to your face and a twinkle in your eye, no matter how many times you’ve seen them.

As Mort Walker once said, “Seven days without laughter makes one weak.“ Ha ha!

So do yourself a favor and don’t feel guilty about sitting around and soaking in some vitamin AFV. Here are a few funny facts about the benefits of laughter compiled by Ball Memorial Hospital in Muncie, Indiana:

Thirteen muscles are used to smile, but 47 are required for frowning. You have to smile nearly a quarter of a million times to make 1 wrinkle.

You can stimulate your heart and lungs, elevate your blood pressure and improve breathing capacity by laughing.

In terms of exercise, you can get the same benefits from laughing 100 times a day, as you can from 10 minutes of rowing.

Fifteen minutes of laughter equals the benefit of 2 hours sleep.

Laughing for 15 seconds adds 2 days to your life span.

According to study by Dr. Michael Titze, a German Psychologist, in the 50's people use to laugh an average of 18 minutes a day. Today, that's down to 4 - 6 minutes a day.

Dr. Michael Miller from the University of Maryland found that laughter can improve circulatory and cardiovascular health.

University of Chicago studies show a great sense of humor can add 8 years to your life.

People smile only 35 percent as much as they think they do.

Pre-school children laugh or smile 400 times a day, however, that number drops to only 15 times
a day by the time people reach age 35.

Go figure! Even though many of us still feel like kids, we’re kids with bills and the knowledge of fiscal responsibility. We’re kids who have kids depending on us and the ties that bind sometimes string us up a little too tight.

But remember this little quote by Kurt Vonnegut whenever you’re about to go jumping on the crazy train: “Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.”

Unless of course you laugh too hard with a full bladder or while taking a drink!

Morning mugshots make for great coffee talk!

2009-07-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(3.26.09)

Checking the arrest log online at Keysso.net to see who recently had a run in with the law is a guilty pleasure for some, and a daily ritual for others. For locals it provides a Where's Waldo sort of entertainment as one skims the Sheriff's Web site in search of familiar faces. Not that we enjoy the misfortune of others of course, it just never hurts to know what's going on around you. And who am I kidding, it makes for one hell of a conversation starter. "Did you see that so-and-so got arrested?" "He looks like he had one too many and made some bad choices." "I wonder if (insert friend here) knows"... and the cycle begins.

Keysso.net...or Keys-s-oh-no-you-didn't!

It's a vessel that provides the community with not only a mug shot of the recently arrested but also the suspects' charges and address. Mind you that down the line, some of these people will have their charges dropped or be found not guilty. However there's no Web site for the recently exonerated -- It just wouldn't generate as much excitement. The posted pictures are taken close to the heat of the moment and are usually pretty raw and tell some entertaining stories. I know that technically we shouldn't find humor in other peoples' humiliation... but we do... and no one should take it personally.

There have been photos of people crying, people laughing, people screaming, young and old, rich and poor, sober and far from sober, some with busted lips, swollen eyes and knots on their forehead. Some look like they belong behind bars and some look scared out of their wits that they are going to be stuck behind bars with such characters. It's a melting pot of alleged criminals from near and far who were collected by cops and catapulted online for us all to see. I do realize that a lot of the inmates are bad apples and face serious charges, so of course some aspects aren't the least bit comical.

From an outsider's point of view, like my poor mother back in Kansas, it's scary to look through these pages. Not exactly the kind of company she likes to imagine her daughter running around with on the streets of Key West. I had to explain to her that many have had rough nights and been in fights and who really can pull off fluorescent lights? Plus, if they were to post mug shots of people in my hometown, the results would likely be just as horrific. (Although Key West is famous and proud of being a sunny place with a lot of shady people).

Now on occasion, and rarely I might add, there have been a few certifiable hunks and hotties captured on this Web site. I think that over a year's time I could probably pick out at least 12 that could make it in a "Handcuffed and Handsome" or a "Nice Tail in Jail" calendar. Not that I would, it's just a thought, unless there's plenty of interest. Another idea that was shot down while I was the crime reporter was having an inmate of the month -- kind of like a Citizen of the Day for those who produce the most amusing mug shot.

Now I get that it isn't exactly politically correct to celebrate someone who has just allegedly broken the law, or perhaps is a bit mentally downtrodden. But if we put all that aside we can often find a few hilarious pictures of people worth sharing. Admit it. If you're checking the Web site at work and find an unfortunate photo, your first instinct is to point it out to others so they can laugh along with you. And don't fret if you are unfortunately one of those familiar faces caught mugging it for the camera. Many things move slowly on this island but gossip isn't one of them. Today's topics quickly become yesterday's news as the spotlight shifts to the next scrutinized subject. Just try not to be a repeat offender.

Keep it classy Key West and avoid arrest. But if you can't do that, keep it entertaining at the very least.

So what do you want to be when you grow up?

2009-07-09T07:59:00.000-07:00

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

(3.19.09)

Since the beginning of time, teachers, parents, grandparents, grown ups in general have been asking us this very question. Now as a late 20-something, I’m still not sure I know the correct answer. Nor am I sure that any of my friends know what they want to be when they grow up. Perhaps this is because we aren’t quite sure when it’s officially decided that we are indeed done growing.

I think the question should be rephrased to “What do you want to be while you’re growing up?” or “What do you want to do while you’re gettig old?”

It seems like the finish line will always be ahead of us, so a majority of our lifetimes are going to be spent in the meantime. So, what do you want to do with your days, consecutively, to earn a living and enjoy your quality of life? Where do you want to live? What will it take to make you proud to hear about what it is that you do out loud?

According to wise people and a recent beer commercial, the key to living a happy life is to do something that you love so work never feels like a job. If you didn’t have to get ready and go to work, where would your day take you? What activities would you pursue if work wasn’t pursuing you?

So gradually, as we’re growing, it’s important to try as many jobs as possible in order to rule things out. Otherwise, the myriad of options may prove to be too overwhelming and you’ll never decide which route to take. As long as you’re moving, you’ll be moving along.

My first job was as a babysitter, which I thoroughly enjoyed and found incredibly rewarding. I even did it for free on occasion and to this day there are a couple of kids I wouldn’t mind watching for a couple of hours. As for full-time diaper changing, hair pulling, fight stopping duties - Forget it. Blessed are those who are capable of this profession, but until I am personally responsible for a child of my own, I don’t want to lose sleep over anyone else’s.

So on to the next job - life guarding at a country club. I must admit that my decision to teach swimming lessons and lifeguard every summer in high school was a good one. Especially at a country club which was way less stressful and much less work than at a public pool. Plus, sunscreen and swimming suits don’t make for a bad uniform and my office was a sunny sanctuary with a soundtrack made of laughs, whistles and splashes. Keep in mind I was still a babysitter and there were obligations, but for the most part, I sat, I sunned and I swam my summers away.

When I first started working at the Citizen almost 5 years ago as the assistant to the editor, my duties included writing obituaries and checking the Citizen’s Voice mailbox. Now if that wasn’t the best thing to have with coffee in the morning, I don’t know what is! Seriously, I’d have the headphones on, playing the messages over and over trying to un-slur someone’s comment about Domino’s Pizza at 4:20 a.m. I shouldn’t be the only one who gets to listen to this! So I’d often get Rob O’Neal to bare witness to the animated characters who filled that mailbox up daily, and almost lost the will to live if I didn‘t empty it out immediately Monday morning.

After awhile I became a reporter. My job was to find out what was going on and then tell everybody about it…..Hello? Had I not been practicing for this my whole life? Since birth, I’ve been gathering information and offering it to anyone who would listen. Much to my parents dismay, my little 5-year-old self would wander over to the neighbors to let them in on what was going on at our house. Even if it was a trivial as mom’s disappointment in dad’s impulse purchases. “Mom says, ’Billy, we don’t need any more towels! How come every time you go to the store you buy more towels?’

So I didn’t have the greatest news sense or a filter, but I managed to absorb a lot of information which was a dangerous combination. I have since developed a bit of discretion and can keep a secret now and then believe it or not. I still like taking in the world around me and then throwing my interpretation out into the world - hence this column you’re reading now pondering the inquisitive question of “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I guess when you hear people tell you that you can do anything you want and be anybody you want to be, we should believe them and start thinking big. Michael Jackson big.

Hell, if a guy named Phil can throw a Dr. in front of his name and impress Oprah, maybe tomorrow Capt. Traci will set sail to the Bahamas where she can begin filming her travel show on E!

Somebody needs a break from Spring Break

2009-07-09T07:54:00.000-07:00

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

(3.12.09)

So I’ve gone and done it again. I’m not saying that I’ve lost a round-trip airplane voucher to anywhere USAir flies……but I sure haven’t found it lately. And I’ve looked. There are still a few places I’ve left unturned where both hope and the vouchers may lay, but it‘s not looking good.

This voucher, which was stashed somewhere “safe” by yours truly in December, has to be used by May which is quickly approaching. And as for getting a replacement….I vividly remember the woman who gave them to me saying, “don’t lose these, we can’t get you new ones if you do.” Great.

I earned the voucher last May while en route back home to Kansas. A huge fan of airports but not the biggest fan of airplanes, I took a taxi from Ft. Lauderdale to West Palm in order to prolong flying while helping out the airline. Not the least bit inconvenienced and with plenty of time to spare, I traveled a little more on my day of travel and was given a voucher to travel more in the future….for free! Splendid.

But easy come, easy go I guess . . . . and I should know. Seems like things are always going. Especially when I take them out of a random spot where they’ve been maintaining their existence just fine and put them somewhere “safe”. I do that with money too, which is always a pleasure to find down the road but a hassle when you are in need of immediate funds. But right now I’m on a voyage for vouchers…

Especially now that Spring Break is in effect and there are oodles of idiots stumbling all over each other and beeping their mopeds through town. No offense college kids, I am a former idiot who put some miles on her flip-flops and watered Duval St. with her beer some five or six years ago. I came, I saw, I loved and I migrated. Now that I live here and have had a chance to get used to quiet summer nights and a scarce island town, I’m slightly annoyed right now and could use a weekend away. I say slightly annoyed because a hopping town means hopping business and business is alwasy good. I also say slightly because some of what you see going on in the streets of Key West during Spring Break is more entertaining than annoying and worth witnessing. Some, but definitely not all.

I understand the excitement that comes with being a college kid in a far away land with beaches, babes and beer ~ oh my. It can be a serious burden to stay slightly sober and just merely functioning is a constant struggle for many inside these mobile mobs. Keep in mind this is Kindergarten compared to Fantasy Fest ~ these aren‘t seasoned partying professionals, and they’re not locals. They‘re rookies and display it with naïve pride as they zigzag through town all day and into the night.

I’m willing to bet that statistically, this is the time of year when the most people get carried home - provided someone in the group knows where “home“ is located. I’ve seen guys draped over the handlebars of rental bikes seemingly unconscious. Girls getting pushed home in shopping carts (although this happens outside of spring break too, right Rachel?) And the ever popular head bobbing humiliation of being slung over someone’s shoulders like a sack of potatoes with heads dangling near rears. That seems to be the easiest and most tried method, and earns looks and laughs every time because we all know that most likely won’t end well. Yuck.

But I’d have to say that for the most part, the most entertaining drunks tend to be the ones still awake.

So we have an open container law …. which no one ever completely understands….especially the bums who get arrested for sipping beer while a gaggle of giggly girls swagger past with a three foot tall booze icey in a neon cup. But generally, if you put it in plastic you can march around town with your favorite adult beverage. Just the other day I saw this one guy on Duval who took it to the next level. He had a huge red gas container full of beer which he was chugging through the yellow nozzle while cars drove by and honked. Just another one of those things we witness mid-afternoon with a smile, shake our heads and say, “only on a Monday in Key West.”

Regardless of the entertainment value this island provides, every once and awhile it’s good to get away. . . So right now I will continue my voyage for vouchers and hope that I may have a break from spring break in my future. Perhaps I should consider changing the title of my column to Miss Placed. . . . .And while we’re at it, I think I should crown a new Miss Taken as Mandy Bolen, my predecessor and fabulous reporter/columnist, is now engaged!! Congrats Mandy - don’t lose that one…and don’t let me get a hold of your ring!

I'm losing it . . . let me know if you find it!

2009-07-09T07:46:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(3.5.09)

Dumb luck strikes us all . . . me more often than others. Dumb luck is defined as “good fortune that occurs unexpectedly” and in my experience, it generally rolls in after bad shit happens…..like losing things.

On my first trip down the Keys, I went out on a party/fishing boat in Islamorada with some friends from college and some Tequila. We got to know the captains, caught quite a few fish and took one or two shots of that lovely potion I hold partially responsible for making my fishing pole disappear into the ocean. The other party I held accountable was the shark I assumed had yanked the rod right out of my hands. It didn’t take the captain long to notice I was unarmed and exuding guilt. He asked, “Traci, where’s your rod?” To which I had no choice but to hiccup.

Defeated and embarrassed, I refused another rod and retired to watch my friends continue fishing. Obviously I was teased for about 20 or 30 minutes until dumb luck showed up to rescue me. My friend’s little sister had gotten her hook stuck on a line . . . a line which so happened to be mine!

“You may be the luckiest girl I know,” the captain said as he started to wrap the mystery line around the anchor cleat. Lots and lots of line . . . then in the crystal blue water we all watched as my stolen rod surfaced from hundreds of feet below . . . with a fish still on!

So, it wasn’t a shark, but rather a Mutton snapper with what I believe to be super-human strength. Or just a will to survive that was far greater than my grip on both a drink and the rod. Regardless, I had witnesses with whom to celebrate my dumb luck. We posed for pictures with my tangled ball of line and the snapper we named Snatcher and freed shortly thereafter. I was thankful for not having to pay for a lost fishing pole and for a story worthy of telling at re-telling at least a dozen times over dinner that night . . . and obviously still to this day.

Another story worthy of mentioning occurred while I was also in college on a school trip to Vegas. As you can imagine, alcohol was yet again one of the main reasons I lost something. Myself being the other culprit as sometimes, when I’m having fun, I forget that I have possessions. Purses, scarves, cell phones and keys all fall into this unfortunate category. On our last night in Las Vegas, we made sure to survey the entire strip, take in the light shows downtown, go in the Golden Nugget, and ride all the rides in town. Sometime during the fun, my wallet escaped me and God only knew where it was . . . and He wasn’t giving me any clues. I had no money, no credit cards, and no ID to be able to fly home (mind you this was after 9/11 and our professor was less than thrilled at my predicament).

After calling at least 13 taxi companies with no luck, I went and got a police report so I could fly home with the group and get the Hell out of sin city. I had to cancel my credit cards and make the horrifying confession that my last purchase was a bottle of champagne and cigarettes at 5 a.m. Oh the shame. I headed back to Dallas perturbed but slightly amused at the ironic “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” saying as I pictured my wallet floating in a fountain somewhere or dangling from a roller coaster.

The silver lining of this story came weeks later when I was back in Kansas on break. My mom asked, “what could the Bellagio be sending you?”
“My dignity, perhaps" . . . I thought. And sure enough, I opened the Fed Ex package and dumb luck delivered my wallet with everything intact! That's one for the record books.

Now don’t get me wrong. A lot of my jewelry, money, sunglasses, flip flops and countless sets of my keys are strewn around the world - ignored by dumb luck, and rightfully so.

How else am I going to learn about responsibility ~ right Dad?

If it were up to him I’d have a fanny pack ….but then I’d be a dork and wouldn’t have any friends to go out and get drunk and lose stuff with!

But seriously, when any kind of luck comes your way, acknowledge it, celebrate it, appreciate it and do your best to spread it around. After all, there’s no harma in good karma!

Why go on vacation when you can live in one?

2009-07-09T07:37:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(2.26.09)

What do we do now? It's a difficult decision for a 24 year old to make after just graduating from college. Well, not just graduating I guess. I took about a year off after moving from Dallas, Texas and back in with the parents in Topeka, Kan., to ponder my existence.

I pondered and I wandered and interviewed for crappy jobs in fun cities but couldn’t decide where I wanted to land. They call this the boomerang effect ~ apparently I wasn’t the only college graduate who flew the coop then flew home to recoup in the comforts of home while deciding my fate. After nearly a year of aimlessness, I used my expensive brain to make an informed and educated decision. Actually, I just flipped a coin.

My best friend Megan ~ whom I’ve known since the first day of Kindergarten ~ and I had both been to Key West before, albeit briefly. She saw the island for a couple hours while on a cruise, and I had stayed for a night after driving down from Miami on Spring Break. Easy, breezy, Keyzy…..we loved it and felt that it was a quaint town without pretension, and with plenty of warmth both in temperature and temperament. Key West was heads. We both had also been captivated by the bright lights of New York City and voted that this was also an option for the next chapter of our lives.

Since Megan and I would have to sell our cars to make this risky venture possible, we were choosing cities which would not require us to own one. So, heads Key West, tails New York City and to this day I’m forever grateful of that fateful flip. Now it was time to convince the parents that 1.) we were not crazy, and 2.) they hadn’t wasted their money on our schooling. The argument, or rather sales pitch, was made over lunch while we wore pink flamingo earrings to hopefully seal the deal.

“You see, we’re writing the story of our lives … and right now, it’s not exactly a page turner…..” I told the parents.

I explained that it would be like graduate school - we would get a job or two and learn a lot while racking up experience and moving on to bigger and better things.

Both of us being recent journalism graduates, her from the University of Kansas and me from SMU in Dallas, it was a known fact that we were destined to enter the job world at the bottom. So why not start climbing that ladder from the Southernmost City? Why not broaden our horizons on America’s only tropical island?

“Someday our lives are going to flash before our eyes…..we have to make sure it’s worth watching,” I said, shaking my head and the flamingo earrings for emphasis.

We understood that this was a huge gamble moving so far away not knowing anyone, but that was the most enticing and endearing aspect.

So we convinced them that this next chapter we were choosing to write was profound and better than indecision.

Little did we know how many hurricanes would pop up in 2004, making many worry that we had made the wrong choice. The first storm being Charlie, which made an appearance during the week we were in town to get an apartment. The next being Frances and then the massive Ivan which our parents insisted we fly home for. Mind you, this was just 11 embarrassing days after our going away party and departure to Key West on a one way ticket. But we managed to make it back and dive into a very sunny place with a few shady people. Megan’s chapter in Key West lasted nearly a year and she’s moved to Chicago, Springfield, Mo., and has landed in Denver with her fiance.

And while I should be nearing the end of “graduate school” term, almost five years later, I’m no closer than when I arrived on this island to wrapping up my studies.

I can’t say I’m from Kansas without the obvious reaction of “Where’s Toto?’ or the even the more clever and overused “Well you’re not in Kansas anymore?” knee slapper.

I usually laugh politely and say that while Kansas was a wonderful place to grow up, I’ve certainly found my niche and appreciate this island and it’s offerings immensely.

When I quit saying daily “I love my life” I may consider moving away from this Paradise. But like they said the movie I will never be able to escape, “there’s no place like home”.

I didn't start the fire . . .

2009-07-09T05:53:00.000-07:00

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

(2.19.09)

“Time can be a greedy thing - sometimes it steals the details for itself,“ - Khaled Hosseini wrote in the Kite Runner.

On Tuesday morning I found out first hand that fire is just as greedy as time, and twice as scary. In the middle of the night my neighbor’s apartment caught on fire. While no one was hurt, the apartment was still smoldering hours later and everything inside was either melted and black or wet and ruined.

The unmistakable smell of bonfire was bound to a mangled and depressing building right outside my window. The beds, couch, kitchen counters, refrigerator and even the metal shutters were burnt and warped and barely recognizable.

There were outlines on the fridge where photos used to be and partial picture frames hanging on the sooty walls. Black sludge lined the floors and pages from books were strewn everywhere.

All of the clothing, furniture, photo albums, journals were gone. Time may steal the details, but at least it takes some time. Fire on the other hand, swoops in immediately with unforgiving fury and takes the details while the neighborhood helplessly watches.

I covered the crime beat at the Citizen for two years and wrote about trials, burglaries, fires and death. I was a bit of a Debbie Downer if you will. So let’s just say that this wasn’t my first time seeing a family going through loss. I’ve seen much worse unfortunately. And it wasn’t too long ago when Hurricane Wilma washed through the walls of many homes and wilted quite a few details herself. Bad things happen. But like we’ve all heard people say, no matter how bad you think you have it, someone out there has it much worse. Which is sad but true and intended to invoke gratefulness.

Hard working firefighters kept the flames from gutting the other three units in the building or spreading the 10 or so feet to my building. Ironically, just last week I was reprimanded by my landlady for ripping down our smoke alarm. It happened awhile ago in the middle of the night when the batteries died and prompted it to beep sporadically. While I could have just replaced the batteries, sleep interrupting annoyance granted me the strength to peel it from the ceiling. In hindsight I see just how unannoying that little contraption is compared to the alternative . . . and I am grateful the situation wasn’t worse for all parties involved.

This foggy weekend began Friday the 13th no less. Low clouds creaped through the cemetery, slinked over the docks and lasted into the night making Duval Street look like a movie set equipped with fog machines. Then Valentine’s Day, white-washed and wonderful was again full of fog which melted off Sunday but returned at sunset while we were sailing. Beautiful but dangerous, scary but mystifying, nature has a way of putting us in our place. You can control a lot of things, but you can’t control the weather - whether you like It or not. And who would want to?

It is to be appreciated, as is life and the unexpected events that are in store for us all. Also to be appreciated are the things and people we choose to fill our lives. We never know how long an era will last and change is unavoidable. Sometimes the worst set of circumstances are thrown at us to see what we can whittle out of them. You know the whole lemons to lemonade adage … sometimes a fresh, new start is a blessing in disguise.

While time and other elements can certainly steal the details of our lives, nothing can touch our relationships with others or our sacred memories. So now that we’ve made it through a foggy Friday the 13th and had a chance to smell the roses on Valentine’s Day, be grateful for every chance we’re given to enjoy another moment. There are so many details that time provides us with, it’s only fair that we leave a few behind. Choose wisely what you cherish and love loyally what you choose.