More on the techie family
We're still hear in the Salvadore Dali World that is Florida, home of the WORST drivers in the world. I think the average age of Floridian drivers is around 114. When I'm on the Tamiani Highway, I see every lane littered with Oldsmobiles with only a nose, a pair of glasses, and a tuft of blue hair can be seen peering over the dashboard. They go 20 mph in the fast lane, weave around lane markers like their Olympic Slalom champions, and look completely undazed by the concert of honking horns and squealing rubber. I guess they probably turn their hearing aids off to preserve their sense of self-worth. But that's not what I really wanted to talk about today. Not only do I tend to digress like the old person I'm becoming, but I know it won't be long until I'm a 90 year old menace to the highways. Moving on: We were driving from Sarasota to Captiva in a car that was two sizes too small for our family because my husband thinks it's ludicrous to pay the outlandish fees for renting a minivan and the kids didn't take him up on his offer to pay the difference out of their allowances. So we had lots of lap sitters and kids complaining with their "When are we going to get there!" "How come we have to go to this stupid place anyway?" "I'm carsick. I'm going to throw up." (All before we've left the parking lot, of course.) When we got to our destination, the car doors flew open to a mass exodus of bodies. You'd think a grenade was tossed in the back seat. "I can't feel my legs, Mommy." "How come my legs are blue" "Ew, I still smell like puke, Mommy." Fortunately, we got sidetracked by the very vision of paradise. Captiva is lush and quaint with more souvenir shops per square foot than I thought was humanly possible. We found a cool outside restaurant and collapsed into our seats. After ordering a couple of beers to soothe our wounds (nope, not the kids, but they did ask,) Kristina, my 19 year old, and I whipped out our brand new wi-fi enabled PDA's to see if we were in a hot spot. Sure nuff, we piggybacked on someone's wireless network and checked the weather, stock quotes, and other sites. The trip was miraculously redeemed. On the way home, Lukas and I beamed silly notes between our pda's-notes that started out with little hearts and "I love you's" and degraded quickly to pictures of butts pooping, penises peeing, and, well, you know how it is. The trip's redemption was quickly reversed when we hit traffic getting off the island that turned what should have been a 15 minute exodus to a 2 hour one. But, with our high tech beaming action, things were nice and quiet. No complaints. Just an occasional giggle and snicker and a few snores.