Beaches. Babes. Beer.

When I was a kiddo my parents would bring me to Florida every year or so to visit family. My dad spent most of his childhood running a muck around St. Petersburg where the majority of my paternal family resides. One of my fondest childhood memories is of our family shindigs at my great grandmother’s house where we would make jokes, tell stories, swim, and of course stuff our faces with grams famous mulberry pie. We are defiantly a family of eaters, and it seems as though every memory I have is somehow centered around consuming copious amounts of groceries. That being said, it was only appropriate that Jarvis and I properly stuff our bellies upon our arrival in St. Pete. Hurricanes is a double stacked restaurant located right on Pass-a-Grill Beach. Their second story outside balcony is a prime destination for watching the sunset, or just getting a face full of salty sea breeze. We have both had a hankering for conch fritters since our last visit, now three years ago, so we inhale an order before we move onto grouper sandos and side orders of tomato seafood bisque. Yum city. A quick stroll on the beach, but entirely too fat, and hot, to really sink our toes in. Instead, back in the car for a quick jaunt across town to my aunt and uncles house so we can check into our suite for the week.

My family is full of pranksters and joke tellers, but my Aunt Liz and Uncle Joe’s family take the cake on pure entertainers. I received a voicemail to confirm our reservations at Chalet Triolo a couple of days prior, and when we check-in we find our room complete with pillow mints, miniature toiletries, and cold Coors Light in the fridge – They are determined to make our honeymoon stay worth while, and they have totally succeeded. I give these guys five glittery shooting stars, and I’m even considering setting up a Yelp so I can rave about the accommodations here. That night we get spoiled with homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I drink a couple of Jeremiah Weed’s n’ lemonade and we play a round of dice as we sit around the table and talk story.

We spend the “work week” poking around town, shopping, beaching, visiting family (i.e. eating and drinking more) and all around relaxing. We had pool parties, dinner dates, lunch outings and some of the best family visits I can remember. I had the opportunity to catch up with cousins, meet new babies, and even make amazing new friends. Yesterday our gracious hosts took us for a day trip on the boat to Fort Desoto Park – an area in the Gulf made up of five interconnected islands. We anchored the boat just off shore and hung out in the mellow breaking waves drinking beer and rubbing our phalanges through the cleansing layers of salt and sand. Crabs nibbled our toes as we nibbled on chip stuffed sandwiches. As we cruised the intercostal back to the slip, a dolphin followed closely behind in the wake – occasionally it jumped the surf and shared its beauty in the shimmering sunlight. A perfect day with perfect people.

Today Jarvis and I made our way from the Bay to Miami. On the way down we stopped at Rick Treworgy’s Muscle Car City Museum in Punta Gorda….SICK CITY! Those who know me and the man know that we have a true appreciation for balls out, bad ass, old skool, muscle-mobiles, and this place was chalked full of beautiful beasts – Novas, Chevelles, Malibus, El Caminos, Cameros, Impalas, etc. etc. etc. Jarvis counted forty-nine different models of Corvettes alone. Defiantly qualifies as a hidden American Sweet and all car connoisseurs must visit this place at least once during their lifetime.

OUR PLANE FROM MIAMI TO THE BAHAMAS LEAVES IN THE MORNING…. Hold onto your britches boys and girls, the hunt for America’s Sweet and Sour is about to go international and I can’t wait to reach the resort and get my mermaid on. Sweet, sweet Paradise Island, here we come.