The Culture Mulch – shamblogic

It’s been a tumultuous week.

Thankfully the missus has documented the horrors of our transit so thoroughly that i need not go into it here — nor hopefully think back on it ever again.

Instead, we consider what it means to be washed up in Daytona Beach at the father-in-law’s lovely ocean-side flat. Three days in and the midgets have neither worn out their welcome, nor the plush white carpets…although limits are being tested on both fronts.

As for what else has changed, it struck me today, as I was hoovering up several small mountains of food-based debris, that this time last week i was undertaking a similar task, only I was using a broom made of bound sticks. Eating is still done waterside, but there is a lot more use of cutlery here in Florida. Transportation (for me) is still two-wheeled, but i’m having to do a lot more of the work myself now that my cycle is motorless (i am still regarded as a freak in the streets though — in India it was for obvious reasons, but here, judging by the looks i’m getting, i’m a fool to attempt battle with SUVs and millions of farting Harleys using only the power of the human leg). But, perhaps the most telling difference is that we are back to full time childcare, as both boys bid a fond goodbye to their schools last week. So far, i think we’re enjoying it (long journeys aside), thanks in large part to the ministrations of aunties and grandpa’s on various continents. However, this morning, after a few successive days of chaos, i felt compelled to draw up a daily schedule and for once the Missus, who normally hates these things, didn’t object.

That may have something to do with my plan to cycle down the coast next week. i’m hoping to get as far as the Keys, but will be loaded up with mobile phone and wireless internet, fully anticipating a panicked phone call requesting that I turn around and get the hell back to Dodge. Expect more on this later. In the meantime, some assorted images from the Family Transitional.