We wondered about the origin of the sign down at the Read Me Now bookstore. Sarah McKinley has had the place for about five years now and has become a real asset to our valley. If you're looking for a book, she either has it or you don't need to read it.
She is picky, of course, and tends to buy the kind of books she thinks we should read and not always the ones we'd like to read. Fortunately for her, enough of us agree with her choices that we have kept her in business.
There's speculation about the new sign, naturally. The word got out around the valley about ten minutes after she hung it up, which is probably pretty slow for news to spread around here. She might have done it during a playoff game.
Mickey Baker has owned The Strand – our local movie theater – since the new releases starred Virginia Mayo. The Strand, naturally, is an icon here. More than a few of our long-lasting marriages in the area began with a first date there. Most of us have consumed more than our share of Raisinettes and Jujubes while watching Duke Wayne whip the bad guys. We know every inch of The Strand. We know where the rips are in the used-to-be blood-red carpet, which seats don't fold all the way down, which seats are most secluded in case it's a smooching date. It was ol' Dud, back when he was about four feet tall, who discovered how to combine chewing gum and the lock on the back door to provide five-finger discounts for friends wanting to watch Victor Mature run around in a loincloth. The Strand, in other words, is a vital part of our past, if not of our lives today.
We seem to just go rent those tapes and disks now and stay home and watch the newer films when we feel like it, and that might be because we now appreciate being able to stop the action for an occasional bathroom break now and then.
When you have a teenage relative, and the minimum age is 21 to go to a rock concert, and this relative HAS to go to the concert or die. Seriously. Die. Because life isn't worth living if she misses it. And, if someone under 21 can go to the concert only if an adult accompanies them. AND ... if the only adult who will listen to the begging and the crying and the gnashing of teeth happens to be a semi-old cowboy, well ... say hello to Starving Chickens.
I figured, with a name like Starving Chickens, this band probably wouldn't have the strength to do more than a few numbers before breaking for burgers and fries.
Well, that was just about as wrong a job of figuring as was the rest of my figuring. You see, I also figured the music wouldn't really hurt your ears, because they would want it to be a pleasant experience. I also figured that with three electric guitars on the stage at one time, at least one guitar player would hit the right chords. Furthermore, I figured there would be some friendly banter between the group's leader and the audience. You know, hi, how are you, having fun tonight? Now here's one of our most-requested tunes, things like that.
"Salamander sandwiches and great Grecian toads!" said Dud, lurching into his never-really-assigned position at the Mule Barn truck stop's philosophy counter and world dilemma think tank.
Mavis stood there holding the pot of Farmer Brothers coffee as she waited for Dud to flip his coffee mug to the correct upright position.
"You want some coffee before the toads are done?" she asked.
Somewhere between studying for exams and remembering to turn in homework, students forget the very first thing they ever learned—how to eat.
Whether UF students live on campus or commute regularly, they seem to share many of the same nutritional habits. Having too little time and even fewer choices are the problems students encounter most often while living the campus life.
"I firmly believe students could eat better than they are," said Maurice Marshall, UF professor of food science and human nutrition.
