blue skies and ultraviolet rays … looking for a better day ….
Those who do not know, Parrotheads are those lovable and quite insane followers of Jimmy Buffett.
The tropical pinks and teals were much on my mind this week as I was making travel plans to go to Illinois and visit my grandmother for her 100th birthday. It made me think of when I moved to the tropical paradise known as Florida way back in the early 80s and left my Illinois home. That was about the time that Jimmy Buffett was just getting his toes in the sand, and he had a quaint (the real description is: a shack) little storefront in the marina in Key West. This place sold parrot shirts, coconut gift items and smelled heavenly of hot coconut oil.
This was around the corner from Hemmingway’s place: Sloppy Joe’s.
Of course, now Jimmy is a household name, and his little place is this monstrous Margaritaville in Orlando’s City Walk where the drinks are a gazillion dollars, the calamari is sliced longways and very tasty, and if you are not careful, you might find yourself in a conga-line while they beat the drums to Volcano. You never know when she is gonna blow.
But I don't want to land in New York City,
I don't want to land in Mexico.
I don't want to land on no Three Mile Island,
I don't want to see my skin a-glow
All great parrotheads and those who did not know they were one, must attend at least one Buffett concert and do the fins when he performs Fins to the left and Fins to the right and lament the fate of some poor, sweet, young girl being stalked by landsharks in a Daytona bar. They have their own chapters, like the Hell’s Angels, and wear coconut bras and grass skirts, unlike the Hell’s Angels.
Photo compliments of the Examiner and linked to their parrothead description article.
Ah, those Floridays when I was living all the words of Changes in Latitudes and Changes in Attitudes. It is easy to dream of tropical nights, mosquitoes, Bahama Mamas, Tikibars and the soothing crash of the waves as you are breathing deep, cool mountain air and still trekking along in snow when hiking the high ground. In honor of Floridays, I bought a new pair of teal shorts to wear with my pink shirt. I look silly in Montana, but no one would notice me kicking sand along the Coco Beach pier.
See how easy it is to get distracted by two colors? They are powerful reminders that we are influenced by colors, scents and music in our lives. While I cannot tell you what I had for breakfast this morning, I can tell you where I was when I first heard Jimmy Buffet sing When the Coast is Clear. It made me cry.
In an effort to ease a slight bout of longing for Floridays after listening to an overdose of Jimmy (I have all his albums), I created the really cool collection Back to Livin’ Floridays for the JCUIN guild on Artfire.
The talented designers in the Jewelry Creators Unite in Numbers (JCUIN) may not realize they were triggering a reaction to a not-so-distant memory when they dreamed up their teal and pink creations, but they have made me want to go back home to Florida for a quick dip in the ocean while inhaling coconut oil wafting along the seabreeze.
Florida is all fun and sun until the tourists come back and the hurricanes blow. Most of all, Florida is an attitude, and like Jimmy, I want to order Boat Drinks while trying to Reason with a Hurricane Season. Now, I must put all my parrothead music onto my MP3 player because it is going to be a long flight.
Boat drinks. Boys in the band ordered boat drinks.
Visitors just scored on the home rink.
Everything seems to be wrong.
Lately, newspaper mentioned cheap airfare.
I've got to fly to Saint Somewhere.
I'm close to bodily harm.
Julie and Blu