Pencil is a simple tool. It should be one of the six simple machines. Or a wonder of the world. Look at what has come out of the end of pencil.

It's one of the smallnesses that works.

Pencil drawing is a very soothing and satisfying activity for me. I teach drawing at the Audubon House and Gardens Museum and I am always amazed at how easily people settle into drawing. They fidget and protest they can't draw a straight line, haven't tried it since childhood, blah blah blah. Within 20 minutes, there they are drawing and completely absorbed in it.

It is very meditative. Even the kids racing in after school, clamoring to set up their equipment and catching up with each other's days, quickly calm themselves and give in to the mystery of the pencil as though it were a magic wand.

This is a drawing I did last night instead of painting.

Things are improving in the two months since the last post. Hurricane season has begun and been pretty quiet so far, in contrast to last year when Dennis hit early in July. We have all seen "An Inconvenient Truth" however, and now the inevitability of global warming increases the dread of stronger storms.

Meanwhile, some drenching summer rains have enlivened the trees. The poinciana and gumbo limbo I thought were dead are in leaf! There are niches of deep shade in the yard! The poincianas, which normally celebrate the beginning of summer with glorious outbursts of flaming scarlet blossoms were unable to pull it off this year. A few trees spurted a few flowers, but at least they now have leaves and we can look forward to next year's blooms.

My friend Reen, a steel sculptress, just returned from the Artist Blacksmith's Association of North America conference in Seattle. I admire her tenacity in attending, since her entire studio with lots of heavy, expensive equipment and materials, was flooded to eye-level and salt water is ruthless on steel. She returned inspired, however, and refreshed. She's not sure how she'll rebuild her career, but her drive is back.

My admiration for her is a little wistful, I'll admit. The storm didn't wipe out my means to produce, but other events pulled the rug out from under my artistic life. The gallery where my work was selling well closed in the middle of storm season to make room for the MTV Real World: Key West production and never re-opened for miscellaneous reasons associated with the building's owner. My larger canvases need large walls and those are hard to come by in the littlemost Key West. I haven't unearthed a new gallery so sales came to a screeching halt. See my work at my website: www.lizardlicks.com

That has led to a slump entitled "Why Bother?" that I'm trying to overcome. I need to find a conference somewhere to refresh my attitude, I guess.

So here's a picture of the painting I'm working on now. It's 48" tall, 24" wide. It's a charcoal drawing that I've developed a way to preserve on canvas, then layered with transparent acrylic glazes. It's still under construction, but close to being done.

The second photo is my paintings at Sippin' Internet Cafe on Eaton Street, just off Duval in Key West. The cafe is a great little spot, just down from the new Tropic Theatre. I come here for Cuban coffee and to download files using their broadband.
It's also the venue for poetry slams and other interesting, small-format events.

The scene there attracts a mix of business travelers (or vacationers trying to catch up on what they’re missing) and some intriguing fringe types. During a recent workshop on wireless computing, the place was predominantly keys folks in flip-flops and T-shirts. Then a 50-year-old with a Mohawk haircut trudged in. Just behind him a six-pack of German bikers muscled through the room and clustered around one of the Sippin’ desktop computers. They could have been a pretty intimidating crew, except they were wearing shorts and sandals and their legs were very pale.

Six months out from the storm. I'm getting back to the blog. While I was incommunicado, Key West was piling up heaps of storm debris. Waste Managment took that away. Then we piled up refrigerators, dishwashers, big screen TVs, water heaters and other appliances trashed in the storm. WI took that away. Then the piles of dry wall, sodden cabinets and delaminated doors grew up and WI took them away. Now in front of houses, instead of debris, there are FEMA trailers while folks replace interiors flooded by salt water and blue tarp roofs.
My household did better than most actually because, as a floating home, we floated and so didn't have any ocean in the living room. We had dock damage and our wonderful Toyota Previa was among the 80% of keys cars that were totaled in the saltwater surge, but we didn't have to rip our carpets and drywall.
Saltwater
Saltwater does quirky things with electricity. After the storm Key West had 40 electric pole fires as the salt conducted power strangely during a rain. Our dock power was overwashed and my husband had to carefully clean the circuit breakers to keep us on steady power.
Cars
As I mentioned, cars suffered in the flood. We were dealer-tag city for a while. The Overseas Highway hosted a steady stream of car carriers bringing new cars down and carting trashed cars out. Now there are lots of shiny new cars (it's too risky to buy a used one) and lots of brand new debt (insurance never seems to do it all).
We bought a van from our friend Stevie because we knew its history -- and Stevie does great maintenance, but my husband had to fly to New York (mid-winter) to get it.
Trees
Our gorgeous tropical jungle has been sadly changed. The trees were whipped by storms four times last year, and they are exhausted. The palms are drooping and the leafy trees were stripped bare so many times, they gave up trying to replicate spring. Now they are producing silly little tufts of leaves close to the trunk with bare twigs above. This means no shade as the weather heats up.
In addition, many trees didn't make it at all. One poinciana and a gumbo limbo in our yard are dead. They were the ones closest to the water. The ficus, that had all its topsoil (or what passes for it here in the keys) washed away down to bare roots seems to be making a slow recovery.
Small plants were washed out in droves. Lots of us just threw seeds out to see what would grow on its own and give us some time to get around to landscaping.
Taxes, Insurance
Taxes were depressing when we totalled up all our losses, but the worst is the insurance. Once again, as a houseboat, we did better than most here because no one will insure a houseboat. Landlubbers with mortgages are trapped in insurance hell as the various sorts (windstorm, flood...) raise premiums double the already pricey rate paid in the keys. The Keynoter newspaper quoted on its front page May 10, one agent whose clients' windstorm "went up from $4,400 to $11,400." A grassroots organization has sprung up to fight the increases.
Dread
So now we are less than a month away from the 2006 hurricane season and the island population is struggling to manage anxiety. Some businesses are closing, some folks are moving. We suspect that as soon as the school year ends, more will move. It's not just the storms, either. My friend Jill said today that just the threat of a storm cuts into the economics. If you have to evacuate, you lose several days work and run up expenses, even if the storm misses us. If there is clean-up involved, then more expense, more time lost and more days without tourists accumulate.
Half my stuff
We're pretty much committed to the area, so its anxiety management for us. Meanwhile, I'm packing boxes with my books, photos, precious items, some clothes and duplicate file records to drive up north later this month and put in storage outside the hurricane zone. Then, if I'm wiped out here, I still have something left.
Got my fingers crossed.
The Good Part
Key West is small and it's easy to help each other. After the storm, there were very few behavior problems. In fact, when the merchandise at the K-Mart got washed out into the nearby neighborhood, people brought it back and stacked it in the parking lot. When cars conked out, passersby would stop and help. We gave each other lifts and shared water and food. Mostly people were patient with one another while we waited for the semi at the high school parking lot to arrive with water.
The day after the storm roared through and we were still reeling, Mama's Flowers took their inventory of blossoms and left them in buckets around town with a hand-written sign, "Compliments of Wilma."
There was a cozy tenderness for the most part. That's what makes it paradise!

Watch that first step...

Our dock traveled a bit with the surge and came down misaligned with the door to our floating home. Getting in and out was tricky. Coming home with groceries, you had to do deep knee bends to get the key in the lock, then jump two or three feet (depending on the tide) down to the houseboat floor. Leaving, you had to hoist yourself up, then touch your toes to reach the door knob and lock up.

Royal Poinciana trees

(Photo: which way did the storm go? Norfolk pines at the Key West Cemetery point the way)
This morning, I put the espresso on and slipped into flipflops for the trip in search of freshly written news in my driveway-- or, as often as not, in my neighbor’s driveway. My neighbor doesn’t subscribe, so I know it’s my paper over there, but I hate to walk up to his door and take it.
On the way back, sightseeing in this new yard that Wilma left us, I check the water line on the workshop that several rains have not completely washed away, and notice that the trees also have a waterline of debris, including a spotlight and a bubble blower hanging in the limbs of the mangroves several feet above the dock.

Overhead I hear a woodpecker. We have a family of them that return each year to nest in a piling. They have a little hole in the side of the piling and one of them will sit in there, head peeping out, presumably with the eggs and/or chicks inside, and the other will cruise for whatever they cruise for. They keep up a chattering conversation while the hunter looks for food.
I had missed them this year, but here they are. They were just above my head in the Alexandra palm. They glanced at me but were unconcerned that I was just a few feet from them. One was eyeing the red dates under the fronds. It’s called the Christmas palm because of those red decorations this time of year. More likely he saw an insect in the dates; he was angling for a way to light there and investigate closer.
The ficus next to the palm looks dead; the gumbo limbo is not looking lively either. The poincianas, bless their hearts, are sprouting new tender leaves – again! This is their fourth spring this year.
Poincianas are a wonderful tree, offering deep shade in summers without hurricanes and opening up to the sun in chilly northers.
It seems like just a moment or a day ago that I gathered it up as a little sprout from my friend, Reen’s yard in old town as she packed up and moved to Ramrod key.
It thrived effortlessly, first in a little clay pot and then, without a care, in the yard between the path and the sea.
It grew up with my daughter. Each year as she climbed it, they were both a little bit taller. In spring it wore a soft, frothy, light green canopy and flounced playfully in summer breezes, throwing a swirl of deep violet shade beneath it.
It didn’t mind the briny on-shore drenchings. It exercised in the wind and laughed off the salt as it held its end of a hammock.
It wore brilliant red when the sun was hot and, like my daughter, grew into a dancer’s body. You could swear it spun and jigged and kicked up its roots when you weren’t looking.
There’s something to be thankful for this week.

Here's what my kitchen looked like after Wilma. What doesn't come through here is the smell of the soy sauce, sesame oil and cat food and the squishy, slidy feeling underfoot. There are still shards of dishes and glassware in the oven.
Everyone has their storm story. Every meeting in town now starts with an account of how each attendee fared. Overheard conversations include the phone number of a good cleaning person and comparisons of the benefits of Ambien versus Lunesta sleep aids.
The new replacement cars are turning up. "I got an SUV for my wife, a little Toyota for me and a Honda for my mother," said a friend. People are buying six packs of cars.
Duval Street downtown looks nice and tidy, but travel into the neighborhoods and the roads are sad little paths between six-foot tall piles of debris. It's dreary to see books, beds, big-screen TVs, computers and barbecue grills dumped at the curb alongside the washers, refrigerators and hot water heaters. And our trees look so wearied.
The good news, though, is the weather is terrific -- cool and breezy, low humidity. Makes ya' feel like cleaning, fortunately enough.

Fantasy Fest Entrant update - Re-"floating" the parade
Fantasy Fest has been postponed to December 7 to 10, plus or minus a few days. The parade will be on the 10th at 7 p.m. and the parade entrant meeting is 5 to 7 p.m. Wednesday, December 7 at the Pier House Caribbean Spa conference room.
I have been getting feedback from entrants and ambassadors on how they are doing, whether their floats survived and whether they can reschedule.
It's amazing how many people have said their house and/or car(s) were totaled, but their floats survived!
A lot of vehicles got trashed. So let me know here if you have a vehicle that can tow a float and if you need one. Any other needs and offers for parade stuff -- generators, lights, music, personnel, etc -- are welcome, too. Leave info in the comments here ("I need a truck", "I have a truck") with a contact number and call each other and work it out. If that fails, call me.
We have a few weeks to get this together so check back and contact each other. I won't have time to do all the connecting, but you can use this as a resource center.
If you are NOT getting my e-mail updates and you wish to, e-mail your address to me: judi@marketsharecompany.com. And add me to your address book so I can get through your spam catchers.

Fantasy Fest Ambassador update--

I know most of you are in the storm zone and I hope you fared reasonably well.
Our parade has been rescheduled for 7 p.m. Dec. 10.
If you are NOT getting my e-mail updates and you wish to, e-mail your address to me: judi@marketsharecompany.com. And add me to your address book so I can get through your spam catchers.
Our meeting will be 5 to 7 p.m. Tuesday, December 6, at the Pier House Caribbean Spa conference room.
Spread the word among your ambassador pals. I do not have complete contact information for some of you.
Let me know if you cannot be in the parade (I have messages from a few of you). I hate to miss you, but we’ll catch you next year. Also let me know if you need a ride.

Anyone interested in working the super boat races, please call 296-5334 and leave your contact info. Market Share will be assisting the races.

The entrance to the road to my house hours after the storm passed by. We had to wade through the knee-high water you saw in the last photo to get here.

Hurricane Wilma, Key West, corner of Eisenhower and Flagler (Luani Plaza)