Stealth mission to Jacksonville

I returned to Jacksonville last week to be with Jennifer to celebrate our one-year anniversary. Well, that's what I told her. I really wanted to remember what it felt like to have 80-degree weather in December. (But don't tell her that.)


It was so hot on Dec. 1 that moments after I snapped this photo, the tree at The Landing spontaneously combusted. Back in balmy Boston, it was 17 degrees and the trees were shivering.

Jenn and I went to the annual Douglas Anderson Chili Cookoff, which was our first date last year. Last year I spent all night nervously trying to be funny and hoping that the red wine would make me look handsome; this year it was spent dodging allegations of recruiting the school's prized math teacher to come live in New England … and hoping the red wine would make everyone forget that painfully obvious truth.

Kidding about that last part. We had a terrific time and I enjoyed seeing some of our mutual friends again.

Much of the rest of the time Jenn and I spent exploring the city …


Whoa ... new buildings downtown.

… eating at European Street …


Despite multiple stab wounds, the Chocolate Beast still terrorized Jennifer, forcing her to eat it to death.

… and performing lewd acts on each other in public in full view of the paparazzi. (Good thing there weren't any cameras capturing my stripper dance on the Skyway … hey, it has poles! What else was I supposed to do?)


Heeeeey!

Later that weekend, Jenn, Pat, and Denise (AME of Visuals at the T-U and my former boss) boogied at Eclipse. We had the whole dance floor to ourselves because, apparently, no one parties on a Sunday night like three journalists and a teacher.




The best part of having a club to yourself is the DJ takes all of your requests.





I was able to see the family for dinner one night, but most of them weren't home: two brothers were working and my mom was in South Florida, helping a friend recover from surgery. My dad, who recently returned from China and Brazil, was home, and he told us of his adventures in the Worker's Paradise.

I'll leave off with a pair of photos of something so typically Jacksonvillian that i grew homesick when I spotted them:


A bitchin' Trans-Am, and upon closer inspection …


… a declaration: "GAS, GRASS, OR ASS/NOBODY RIDES FOR FREE!!" Words to live by, I suppose.