That would be Miami then Asheville, NC (aka the land to which all true Floridians wish to emigrate) then St. Petersburg (Florida again, alas, not Russia). And here I be. And let it be a lesson to me in keeping an open mind for I've found The Craftsman Cottage (cafe and gallery) on Central Avenue in St. Pete owned by the lovely Stephanie and Jeff Schorr. And found Uncommon Threads in Palm Harbor now lighter in inventory by several skeins of Malabrigo in Velvet Grapes colorway. And found a truly wondrous stash of plain sawn curly red oak, and some few boards of quartersawn white oak...whoa, that's not my habit, heh... But you get the idea.
St. Pete, if you've never been here, is sprawling and full of cheesy strip malls, endless fast food joints punctuated by genteel and not so genteely shabby trailer parks, flea markets and malls. In short, not exactly a city planner's best moment. But it also has terrific Pho palaces, Brazilian cafes, and palaces of Italian food like Mazzaro's. It's thriving and down-at-the-heels and redneck and Asian and just about everything in between. There's much poverty and many retirees and tourists and still, it's got a feisty spirit about it. People make do and get by and this is NOT the land of those who really could afford to retire. But they did anyway and somehow people manage. It plays on every fear I have that I'll end up back where I came from. And I like it anyway.
And like the song says, "...say the old folks, it goes to show you never can tell."
