Going down to the Red Barn

If you ever grew up southern, and to the best of my knowledge you really only get one shot at it, then you'll be familiar with the term "took him out behind the barn". Sometimes woodshed was substituted for barn. Sometimes woodpile was substituted. Anyhoo, if your dad done it to you it meant you got a whipping. If it was said about someone else doing it, it meant to lose a fight to that person. Seldom was there any actual travel to a barn or woodpile involved. It was what we would call a colloquilism. Yep, we'd call it that even if we couldn't spell it. Now, why do I tell you all this? I don't know.

Yesterday we took a meandering road trip down to Manatee County. To a place just inches outside the Bradenton City Limits. A place called the Red Barn. Yessiree Bob, it was a giant flea market. It was me, Nong and DRE.

We took a left on US 301 and headed south. We poked along at the speed limit, thus confounding nearly every other driver with people to do and places to be. Alas, we did not care. We spied a 7-11 and stopped. Our goal was to purchase Snapples and soda waters. And we were successful.

Back in the Cherokee (Jeep, not Native American. Besides, a Cherokee Indian way down here would actually just be called a tourist.) and back on the road. Spied a fairly rotund hispanic man and his equally rotund but significantly more blonde female companion standing beside one of those big ol wood fired BBQ ovens you pull behind your truck. We stopped. Our goal was to chow down on BBQ ribs, baked potatos, onions and tortillias. And we were successful. The goodness of the rib meal is based upon how much sauce you end up wearing. We were wearing a lot. Had to sacrifice a bottle of Evian to the cleanup efforts. We hollered, "Thanks, Boss" out the window as we drove off. El Rotundo and his broad just grinned.

Back in the Cherokee. We talk and tease and enjoy the warm, warm sunshine as we putt putt along. It was a perfect Sunday afternoon in the Florida I remember. From the looks of all the cleared off patches that we passed, it won't be for much longer. But it was yesterday.

We stopped at a small flea market on the way. I think the town was Parrish, but you could get me to lie on that. Anyway by flea market I mean a largish collection of junk. Nong did find something she wanted. A gong. Yep, I typed that right. I said gong. I asked her what she'd do with it and she said, "I don't know, something." I told her, "Hey, maybe you could start cooking dinner at night. Then you could use the gong to call me." The sarcasm hit her, but bounced helplessly off.

Drive some more and there, folks, is THE RED BARN. But it is across the divided highway and we can't get in. So we go to the next light, hang a U-turn, and head back to the Red Barn. And go flying past it because there is still road divider between us. Hmmm. What gives? Those people seem to be on a different road from us.

So we decided to go around the block. And did. It was a pretty long way because we had to circumnavigate the Tropicana orange juice plant, and it's pretty daggone big. But we got around it fianally and back on the road we were just on. What the.....? How are they getting on that other road?

As it turned out, to get to the place, which was ahead of us on the right, we actually had to turn left and drive away from it and then pull a U-turn at an intersection that is hidden when you're on the road we were on. That's the kind of stuff that makes up every single one of my days. Yes, just that kind of stupid, intersection hiding stuff.

Bought stuff (elephant lamps, shorts, incense, ankle bracelet, etc. Woulda bought a Betty Boop slot machine, a real one, except I left my $699.99 + tax at home in my other pants) and then we headed on home. A good, fun day was had by all.

Saturday I somehow spent $665 at Bed, Bath & Beyond. It was Beyond all right. Beyond what I needed to spend. Nice stuff though. I gotta admit that.

I am not rich by any stretch of the imagination. I am fairly well off and rapidly approaching barely well off. But doggone it, I do enjoy being alive. Nice talkin' at ya.

Ramblin' Ed