For some wild and unexplainable reason I agreed to go. Even though I pledged I never would. That it wasn’t important to me. That you could drop wild badgers down my shorts and I would still resist. Then a friend sent an email. It started out, “Alright guys it has been 20 years,” and went on to say he wanted to get “the crew back together.” The venue? Tampa Prep’s 20th high school reunion for the class of 1991.
Life in a Nutshell wins Florida Press Club commentary award
Brian Thompson’s “Life in a Nutshell” column, which runs weekly in the St. Augustine Record, won a first place award in the Florida Press Club’s 2011 Excellence in Journalism Competition for commentary writing in class C, which is daily newspapers with less than 40,000 circulation. This is the third year in a row the column has won an award in the commentary category, and the fourth Press Club award for it. The three columns that won were: • Things you Never … EVER … Do with a Kid in the Room • Every Moment Now Precious for a Dog with Cancer • Answering the call of the ice cream truck
Weddings, snowball fights and Disney World Syndrome … only in Manhattan
I was in New York City this week. My sister-in-law got married. The ceremony was held at Central Park’s Belvedere Castle. It was beautiful and romantic and so cold I’m still thawing out the ’ole hindquarters.
The joy of a homemade Halloween costume
In my house they’re busy with the sewing machine. Bobbins are flying about as witches’ capes are readied. I’m dodging sewing needles and thread shooting from the machine like spider’s webs. It’s a homemade Halloween hootenanny. And I love it.
The heart of an artiste … while sketching stick-figure cats
I went to dinner the other night with my mother and daughter. As most of these occasions turn out, I was the babysitter. Telling them both to keep their voices down. Not to color on the table. Asking if they had gone to the bathroom since lunch, or if they needed to wash their hands. Generally playing the peacemaker. “Mom, I’ve told you, do not argue with a 5-year-old … especially when you’re wrong.”
Oh, you spicy little datil pepper
Here’s what I know about the datil pepper … They can be nasty little buggers — the Tazmanian devil of the pepper family. They will singe your teeth and make hair grow on your ears like Spanish moss. As far as I can tell, they are mainly grown in St. Augustine and are a favorite of Minorcans — a daredevil group who switched to the spicy pepper when consuming food that was still on fire grew boring.
Twenty years and 20 flip-flops. I’m a local now
I had to do the math. Just to see if it could be true. Because it didn’t seem possible. Didn’t seem like I’ve been here that long. “… borrow the one … 11 minus 3 … take the square root of 15 … if a train is leaving Austin at 5 o’clock …”
Memories of my father’s junk food conspiracy theory food pantry
The college newspaper editor was talking about her story. It’s on a study that found eating healthy isn’t always affordable. She was talking about interviewing other college students about whether this was the case or just an excuse. Could poor college students on meager budgets add more nutrition to their diets? Nutrition that wasn’t French fries and pizza crust?
Finding humanity in a South Florida homeless shelter
I could have been at a Labor Day party, chowing down on tacos and making underwater movies with my daughter. God bless waterproof cameras. Instead I’m spending the weekend at a homeless shelter in Hollywood, Florida, drinking sugar with a splash of coffee. Toilet paper is sticking to my shoe, and I’m wondering if the tickle in my throat is MRSA.
Time for a hurricane chicken evacuation plan
Anyone have a partially-used, fully-functioning, battle-tested hurricane chicken evacuation plan they’re willing to part with? You know … a chicken plan. Like what you do with your chickens should a big blowing tropical behemoth show up on your door step. Because I’m a bit stumped. And the Thompson motto (borrowed from the Army Rangers) is simple: Never leave a man … or critter … behind. Damn mottos! It complicates things. These chickens complicate things! They’re a little over 8 weeks old — long-past the chick stage. Their combs are coming in, and they roam the yard eating bugs and grubs and hamburgers. (Hamburgers grow wild in my backyard.)