Remember November

Thanksgiving starts now!

Let's just say that nothing puts life in perspective like putting your whole life in a car and moving 1,800 miles from Key West back home to Middle America. Because really people, this is what life's essentially all about so....switch it, change it - rearrange it! And as you do, make sure that you really appreciate the view,

because the only one with a front row seat is 

you!

Words of wisdom

To all the girls who are in a hurry to have a boyfriend or get married, here's a little 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 :)

Can it Grandma!

11.26.10

MISS INFORMED
BY TRACI

I just so happen to be smitten with my Grandma Jeanne who was tickled pink when I told her that I was working on putting her recipes together in a cookbook called Can it Grandma.

This wonderful woman cans salsa, jalapeno jelly, pepper slaw, pickles, relish. … and over the years she has made countless meals for  her grateful family and friends. Somewhere along the way she found the time to type and distribute a few of her favorite recipes, and I'm here to fact check and pass on the knowledge to you! For instance, it turns out  that 23 cups of mayonnaise actually means 2/3 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, and yes, easy), macaroni salad, and apple crisp. But lately, the book has taken a back seat to canning, as bees suddenly decided to start living in our walls. This unexpected sticky situation wasn't exactly convenient......however, now we have some of the sweetest honey in existence and have been very busy canning this liquid gold.

Not only does canning make you feel self sufficient, but also closer and prouder of those that paved the way to who you are today. My grandma grew a lot of her own food, getting rid of the bugs and weeds in preparation for pleasing the palates of those she loves with home-grown goodness.

Year after year her house is overrun with tomatoes (a couple tons of tomatoes, actually... 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 from family, friends and uncle Butch's Budweisers, the chaos is crushed neatly into quarts which are then signed, sealed and delivered. What a concept!

Looking back, I'm grateful I was allowed to be a part of the process, although I certainly wasn't much help at the time (especially if bugs were around). Little did I know that my country bumpkin butt would end up canning crap on an island in the Caribbean. Let alone honey!!! Isn't life funny?

After this endeavor, I now also understand my Grandma's fondness for wine…this is hard work people, and clean up is the hardest part. Especially when your vacuum cleaner is filled with dead bee carcasses and everything you touch is sticky.

At least I've been too busy to be homesick...for the most part. I know exactly what I'm missing as Thanksgiving at Grandma's goes a little something like this: She leaps out of her recliner (on the rare occasion 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".

Then it's my Mom's turn to get scolded for drinking Butch's beer before we finally feast. The late Uncle Joe (grandma's twin brother) will still be affectionately mentioned as my brother will reenact his infamous mashed potato volcano. All of our plates piled high with gluttony and gratitude for damn good, home-cooked food. So, it's safe to say that 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 about her love for John Wayne, slot machines and her peculiar pronunciation of certain words (such as peculiar and chiropractor, especially after a glass or two of wine). She also has this thing with calling lunch "dinner", and I'm not going to lie, it used to freak me out as a kid 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 and "supper's ready"!

Sweater Syndrome - the ultimate sin

10.29.10

Miss Informed
By Traci Rork

Haven't we all stumbled upon a photo of ourselves wearing an embarrassingly ugly sweater? It's huge, obviously a bad decision and looks like it was found in the back of Bill Cosby's closet.

You think, "how could I have ever thought this was OK?"…..And the scary part is, not only did you pick out that ugly sweater yourself, but you wore it in public and proudly posed for photos. 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 comfortable sweaters and so we don't listen to anyone's advice. Blame it on youth, booze, or voodoo....but it's difficult to outgrow or outrun our sweaters, and those that got away want to help others do the same.

We all have friends or family members who are unfortunately 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 for our loved ones, yet there's nothing in the world we can do because the more we say....the less they fray.

Just because someone walks like a lying, cheating, worthless duck doesn't mean they'll pay attention ~ even if you have stone-cold proof! They choose to ignore their lowered standards while settling down with their wardrobe malfunctions, and in a daze they spend their days with an itchy, stinky sweater. What could be better? Freedom.

Now there are some who actually realize these relationships are an addiction but they just don't have the strength to quit their knit-wits. After the latest let down, they may proclaim, "that's it, I'm done ~ for real this time". But usually they only make it a couple of weeks before letting their sweaters slither back into the closet.

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

Don't sweat the petty stuff

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 once again has fallen right into place.... too bad that's not the case for us island folks.

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 upper lip syndrome, free-flowing forehead drip, raccoon eyes, and boob sweat ~ which is why so many women awkwardly have their arms crossed. Not to mention the ever-popular ring around the armpit and man's worst enemy ~ chaffage.

Well my friends, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but this is the downside of living in paradise. We chose the tropics, and thus we're prisoners to perspiration... but at least we are in this together!

So yeah, it's safe to say that I'm hot, bothered and more than ready to stop swatting at mosquitoes and sweating in the sun. 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.

Leaving the AC for even 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'm looking for....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 win-win situations for all parties involved. We get relief and business owners get a few customers during the slowest season of the year. So, feel free to be an air conditioning squatter, but it’s in good form to make a purchase while you're present, or at the very least, pleasant conversation.

This also applies during one of our sporadic thunderstorms. It's a catch-22 because while they do temporarily cool down the island and water our wilting flowers, they seem to have no mercy on my schedule. While it is possible to outrun the rain on your bike it is definitely a rarity for sure.

Our beautiful blue skies have the tendency to open up and spew tidal waves of rain at random times throughout the summer, always managing to find the 15 minute window of opportunity when I decide 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….the 90 degree temperatures sufficiently helped to bake the mistake firmly onto the glass in front of my face. After a long day at the office, the last thing you want to do is deal with a "shit-suation". Where's the rain now, huh?!

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

While people always tell me how lucky and smart I am for choosing to make a tropical island my home, I will agree most of the time, but not at the moment. I'm currently wrapping up a September slump and I want to be where the trees and the seasons are changing.

Of course I am all out of vacation days, I couldn't afford to take one if I wasn't, and I've had it with sweating more than Fred Phelps at a gay wedding.

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

I just have to remind myself that when I migrated from Kansas to Key West a mere 6 years ago (in September no less), the heat brought 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 equally as endearing to me. Everything but the iguana crap ~ that's something I'll never get used to (although I did find a new use for my ice scraper)!

Bicycle Bandit vs. the Women he Wronged

By Traci Rork
Miss Informed

10.15.09

How many of us islanders have had our bicycles snatched by some degenerate never to be seen again? I'm willing to wager plenty. But, how many of us have actually had the pleasure of running into a drunken loser as he's leisurely cruising around town on your bright pink beach cruiser? Not enough as sadly, they're usually gone for good. But not always, and boy do I have a story for you!

I've had a few bikes stolen and have spent years searching for them, in the hopes of coming 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, we were able to mug that poor thug before he even knew what hit him!

A couple of weekends ago during the full moon, (which is when crazy shit always happens) my friend Courtney and I managed to rob a robber. That's right. This was not a premeditated act, nor one I would recommend in hindsight, but sometimes our carnal instincts can't be ignored once we've been wronged.

There was an army of bikes in front of my house Friday night as we made a brief pit stop between bars. We weren't planning on staying long, so none of the bikes were locked which is when bad things always happen.

Moments later we notice that Courtney's pink bike was missing from the pack. Cascading feelings of disbelief quickly turned to anger and despair, but we jumped in my car and took off to go catch a predator.

We made all the right turns at all the right times and lo and behold, we spotted the bicycle bandit swerving towards us in the darkness.

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

Of course, not a single soul was nearby so it was two hell-raisers in heels against one wobbly drunk, but I've watched enough Court TV to know that hardly matters.

Luckily, he begrudgingly got off the bike and shamefully went on his way. He called us losers as Courtney proudly rode her bike back to my house with me driving slowly beside her in case he decided to bum rush her during our victory parade.

Thankfully we escaped unharmed, but it turns out we were not unarmed... At some point we had acquired an assault weapon that had apparently been left in the bike basket! So yeah, we now had a retractable baton like the one used to beat Nancy Kerrigan in our possession.

 I've never felt more accomplished, relieved, and validated than when we returned home with that bike in tow. Not to mention the exuberence of retelling our story to the girls and showing off our new night stick.

While my dad and brother got a kick out of this story, my mom on the other hand didn't feel that my vigilantism warranted a celebration and that I should not be so proud of flirting with danger. I told her that she should be relieved knowing that not only am I a self-sufficient woman and literally a go-getter, but that I've also got Courtney in my corner, and she's the Queen of Clubs.

Just another weekend in Key Weird - you can't make this shit up...

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

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

(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.