No Elaine, not all ARE worthy.

My mom announced over dinner last Friday night that we needed to start exploring our city and the surrounding areas. I’m not sure what inspired this revelation (my guess is some HGTV series- notorious for planting ideas in her head), but her announcement was quickly followed by the plans she had ready for us- our first day trip out in her new Exploration Series! 2009 is shaping up to be a good year, folks! It is true that the longer you live somewhere, the less you realize what your town has to offer you. For me, I’ve lived in the same area for almost 22 years, and although I certainly do get out of the house from time to time, I almost always ignore the more tourist frequented areas. So when she suggested the sponge docks in Tarpon Springs as our first outing, I was intrigued. I had never been there, in fact, I was only recently made aware of their existence. So I agreed.

One of the many benefits of living with my mom is the absence of boredom. It seems she always has one activity or another ready for us, and often they involve the entire eight hours of the day. Certainly, left to my own devices, I would spend Saturdays in my pajamas, playing Wii with Brae and eating Publix chocolate ice cream straight out of the carton. But not with mom, with mom our days are ACTION PACKED and F-U-N!

I poke fun only because I am appreciative of her. Honestly, she’s a lot of fun to hang out with. Especially when she’s crabby.



Saturday morning, we awoke- my brother, Brae, mom and I, and set off for the short drive to neighboring Tarpon Springs. There is a heavy Greek influence in Tarpon (the city has the highest percentage of Greek-Americans of any city in the U.S.) and the shoppes at the sponge docks are almost exclusively Greek restaurants and sponge paraphernalia. You may ask yourself, how much "sponge paraphernalia" could there possibly be? You would be silly to ask this question because the obvious answer is A SHIT LOAD. Sponge baskets, sponges to bath with, crazy looking sponges that have sprouted eyes are quietly calculating their attack on you. There were sponges hanging from the ceilings of tiny gift shoppes. There were sponges hanging from the ceilings of humongous gift shops. There were sponges lining the walls of restaurants. One particularly handsome sponge tried to get fresh with me while standing in line for a slice of balaclava.



Where there were not sponges, there were people. Geriatric snow birds flocked the streets of the docks, pushing their way through the crowd in their neon colored Crocs and SPF 50. It was a beautiful day, the sun was suspended high in the sky and a warm breeze issued off the bay as we strolled the long road. Boisterous Greek men called to us from the sidewalks, "Best Greek food here!" in heavy accents. We chose a small restaurant facing the water with friendly wait staff. Our waitress motioned to my 19 year old brother and my 45 year old mother, as she looked at Brae and said, "....as long as your mom and dad....". I didn't quite catch the context of the statement, but the hilarity of the insinuation was enough to last throughout the meal. I don't know which is more insulting for my poor brother, that she assumed he was old enough to be parent to this active 4 year old child, or that he could have a child with a woman twice his age, who is his mother.



After lunch we stopped in a few small shops, watched as some boats passed us on their way to the Gulf and took a few pictures.



I wasn't overly impressed with the docks. It was hot and noisy. The shoppes were gimmicky and really- how enthralling are sponges? Not a highly marketable item, I would guess. The crowd was too thick and I felt several times the urge to ram Brae's stroller into the pair of trouser socked legs that were moving at a snails pace ahead of me. I did, however, have the most amazing spanakopita that was almost worth fighting the sea of varicose veins to get to.



So, I guess there was a silver lining to my ultra-absorbent cloud? Opa!