How to Blow $45: Scotts Turf Builder Exhibits No Weed-Killing Properties

I promised a follow up on the never ending adventure that is my yard.

I have a call into NASA offering my front yard as an astronaut moon-walking-training facility in the event the government ever decides to return to space.

In the meantime, I would happily help out fulfilling our president's number one mandate for NASA by teaching their course in making Muslims feel good about all their contributions to science. I doubt that would put too big a strain on my time management skills.

"Today's lesson will be….ummm….let's see…ummm…ah…ummm…who wants ice cream?"

Does suicide-bomb making count as science?

"Hi, I'm your suicide-bomb-making instructor. Please pay close attention; I can only show you this once!"

But back to my yard…

My goal this dirt-mowing season is to eradicate my yard of any and all weeds. As I wrote here a couple of weeks ago: Sans weeds, my yard would only require mowing every three or four weeks.

My initial attempt involved spreading Scotts Turf Builder with Plus 2 Weed Control.

According to Scotts official Web site, this miracle substance has been engineered to kill "dandelions and other major lawn weeds." It's the first thing listed in the product description.

I followed the instructions on the bag to a T. I hauled my ashes up to my buddy Jeff's house to borrow his Scotts-brand spreader. I wheeled the spreader out after a morning rain because the instructions told me to apply this mixture of who-knows-what on a wet lawn.

I set the rate of distribution to exactly the setting recommended on the bag.

I had checked the forecast and no rain was predicted for the next week. Again, the instructions on the bag said for best results, rain shouldn't fall on the lawn for at least two days after application.

Following all the instructions, I thought, there was no way my efforts wouldn't pay off.

That might be true if this sack of placebo had any real weed killing properties.

By my best estimate, this crap didn't kill one dandelion. Nope, nary a one. It didn't injure, wound, or maim any either. From what I can determine, it didn't make one even a little bit woozy.

I might as well have sprinkled pixie dust around.

Can you say, 45 bucks down the old rat hole?

I still have half a bag left, but won't waste my time applying it again. It took about 90 minutes the last time, and involved pushing the spreader up hill for half the passes.

Not going to do that again.

Next attempt will be spraying liquid weed killer -- not Scotts, if there is such a thing. I'll keep you posted.

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Celebrating the Conch Republic Key West Style

Last week, well the last 10 days really, was the 30th anniversary of the Conch Republic celebration in the Keys. Stuffed into the final 30 hours or so that I was in Key West were Conch Republic-related activities.

For the uninitiated, the Conch Republic was born of a dust up between the Keys and the U.S. government. In its war on drugs, the U.S. government established -- what for all intents and purposes -- was a border crossing on Card Sound Road leading out of Key Largo in an attempt to curtail the drugs getting into Miami.

The Border Patrol checked IDs, searched cars and generally mucked up traffic coming out of the Keys. It added hours to the trip. Tourism was down thanks to media reports about the difficulties of the trip home. It was every bit as intrusive and time consuming as traveling over the border from Mexico.

Attorneys for the Keys filed for an injunction to relieve the hardship with the Federal Court in Miami. The U.S. Attorney General himself traveled to Miami to argue the government's position. Basically the judge refused to find one way or the other after the U.S. government promised to become more selective in the cars that were stopped; profiling, in other words.

When the group representing the Keys walked out of the courthouse, they were met by a gaggle of media asking them what they were going to do next. Without issuing a statement, they returned to the safety of the courthouse to discuss an answer. Although who actually suggested succession has been lost to history, someone did and the group agreed. They returned to the microphones outside and stated that they were forming the Conch Republic and it would succeed from the U.S. at noon the next day.

At noon on the dot -- such punctuality is quite rare in the Keys -- the Conch Republic announced its independence and declared war on the U.S. A resident U.S. Navy admiral, sympathetic to the cause, offered himself as the target of the only hostilities in the event and was pummeled with Cuban bread. The Conch Republic then asked for $1 billion in foreign aid. The money was never forthcoming, but the border crossing disappeared three days later.

The Conch Republic claimed victory.

I was entertained with this story by none other than the Honorable Sir Peter Anderson at breakfast on day five of my Keys adventure. I sat next to him as he regaled our small group with the history and little-known facts about the Conch Republic.

Sir Peter was named First Secretary General of the Conch Republic by Captain Tony because he was the only one who came to the organizational meeting with a pen and pad of paper. He remains the Secretary General today. His two main functions are issuing Conch Republic passports -- yes, they issue passports -- and yelling orders to participants in the annual World's Longest Parade through a bullhorn.

We saw him in action at the parade the evening before. It's called the World's Longest Parade because its route takes it from the Atlantic coast to the Gulf of Mexico coast -- a few blocks, actually, but it is from coast to coast.

Fortunately, our vantage point was directly in front of a bar, so we had no problem wetting our whistles as we waited and watched. I'd say it required about 15 minutes for the entire parade to pass in front of us.

On Friday evening we boarded the two-masted Jolly Rover for a sunset cruise and to watch the "Bloody Battle" in the harbor. This consisted of a Coast Guard Cutter doing battle with several large party boats and schooners. The weapons of choice were water cannons. The boats maneuvered around hosing one another as sea planes and biplanes circled over head carpet bombing the entire group with rolls of toilet paper.

It was quite the spectacle.

I even got a turn at the helm.

After the cruise, I excused myself from our hosts and walked to J & B Lobster next door where Kia was hosting dinner for a group of journalists who had driven from Miami in the new Optima Hybrid. I crashed the dinner and spent the rest of the night with this group hitting spots like Capt. Tony's and Durty Harry's.

Because I had to be up at 5:00 the next morning to call Delta in an attempt -- a successful attempt, I might add -- to rebook my flight home from 5:30 p.m. to 8 a.m., I left the remnants of the Kia crew and headed back to the Cypress House around midnight.

Another Keys adventure in the history books.

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Florida Keys Day 4: Getting Down With the Dolphins

Day four of my AAA Florida Keys adventure continued in Key West.

Cypress House, the B&B where I headquartered in Key West, served a terrific breakfast that was included in the nightly rate. The other travel writer staying there and I wolfed down fresh fruit, bagels, bacon, eggs and assorted pastries. All my good intentions for taking it easy on the food that morning lasted until I hit the kitchen.

Our morning was free. The Newman Agency that honchoed this extravaganza provided us with its V.I.P. Pass that was good for free admission to all sorts of attractions and tours. It also offered free meals at some hotels and free drinks at a few other places.

I spent my morning strolling around Old Town and reacquainting myself with the sights. The difference between Duval Street at 10 in the morning and Duval Street at 10 at night is startling. Unlike the French Quarter in New Orleans, though, despite curb to storefront drunks crowding the street at night, everything is relatively clean the next morning. The next morning on Bourbon Street,  you can see the remains of the drunken carnage the night before; not so on Duval Street.

I met up with the rest of the group and we headed to Hogfish Bar & Grill in the Safe Harbor Marina on Stock Island for lunch. What a treat. I had the fried Hogfish sandwich smothered in cheese and grilled onions. Oh man, it was good! I washed lunch down with a couple of Mille Lites. The total bill was 21 bucks -- a bargain by any standard.

Our big organized activity of the day was a boat trip with Dancing Water Spirits Retreat that runs out of Murray Marine at MM 5. We were hosted by none other than the Dolphin Whisperer herself, Captain Victoria Impallomeni-Spencer.

Victoria walks a fine line between New Age quirky and just plain loopy. I don't mean that in a bad way; but I am a cynic and all that touchy-feely, I-am-one-with-the-earth crap isn't in my DNA.

She has been conducting expeditions into the water wilderness for 30 years. She knows a lot about the Florida waters and its wildlife. And, when I say, a lot, I mean nearly everything there is to know.

She didn't promise us a dolphin encounter, but she seemed quite confident she would conjure up a few. Using a combination of music played through her boat's audio system with speakers attached to the boat's hull, as well as a sonic signal she puts out using the electric motor that raises and lowers the Yamaha 200 engine she called the dolphins.

For the first hour her choice of music probably lulled the dolphins to sleep. I'm surprised several of them within hearing distance didn't fall asleep and drown. It was the sort of music that plays in the background in $1,000-per-day spa. Snore….

Finally the music selection improved, but the dolphins still did not come. We puttered around for another hour. Eventually we gave up and just as we began to turn to head back, four dolphins came swimming up. They played around us for 45 minutes. Swimming around and under our boat, they frolicked like kids as Victoria talked about how intuitive they are: they know we are, she told us. Okay, fine.

I have no doubt she can produce dolphins on just about every 3-hour cruise.

It was a great day on the water.

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Key West by Sundown: Bring on the Crazies!

Wednesday -- day 3 of my AAA assignment in the Florida Keys -- wasn't without its hiccups.

The math-challenged itinerary planners didn't allow enough time to eat breakfast and arrive at our first scheduled activity on time. So, breakfast at the Green Turtle Inn was sacrificed for an on-time arrival at the Turtle Hospital.

Instead of a sit-down meal at the Green Turtle we ordered carry-out from the Midway Café and wolfed down our food in the van as we hauled butt down the road the 30 or so miles to the Turtle Hospital.

This is the only veterinary-certified turtle hospital in the world. Fixing injured and sick turtles is its business and business is evidently boomin'.

Am I the only one to find irony in the fact that originally we were to eat breakfast at a joint made famous for its green-turtle delicacies and then visit the turtle hospital? Just askin'.

When we visited the turtle hospital, 22 turtles were in residence being treated for sickness as well as boat injuries. About 80% of the turtles that are successfully saved are eventually healthy enough to be returned to the sea.

The owner of the hospital came to the Keys to open a motel, which he did. To attract guests, he created a tidal pool that hosted a variety of sea life, but the only way he could get a permit to add a sea turtle was if the turtle was injured and he nursed it back to health. Things just took off from there. The facility no longer serves as a motel and its large swimming pool has been converted to a secure tidal pool for recovering turtles. The hospital runs two turtle ambulances and has full surgical facilities. It's open for tours. Pretty cool!

Once the educational portion of my day was completed, we were ready to head to Strike Zone Charters for a five-hour snorkeling and fishing trip culminating in a fish fry on a deserted island. Before we left the turtle hospital, we learned that this activity was canceled. I won't go into the baloney details of the cancellation, but we were able to glom on to a shorter, 3-hour trip that featured snorkeling on the coral reef.

I was all for snorkeling until I discovered the ocean was a chilly 73 degrees. Uncle Russ don't do that nonsense. Those of you who know me well know I kept my pool in Boynton Beach cranked up to the high 90s. Nope, 73 wasn't going to happen. So I settled for lounging around the deck b'essing with the captain and the couple of other smart folks who stayed on deck.

Around 4:00, we drove the last 30 miles or so to Key West.

Key West is like New Orleans or Las Vegas: Everyone should visit it at least once just to say you have, but it's not a place in which I want to spend long periods of time. Most folks come to Key West to drink, party and attempt to secure as many happy endings as possible. There's nothing wrong with any of that, mind you; but it doesn't necessarily attract the highest caliber of human being.

Here's an example: This morning I was sitting at a poolside table at the Cypress House, a quite lovely B&B where the tourism folks put me up for my Key West stay, and at the next table was a high-class guy talking on his cell to someone back home. I overheard him telling this person that he and the missus were flying home early because she and her brother had gotten into a physical altercation the night before. ("Altercation" is my term, not his. I think he characterized it as someone punching the shit out of the other person.)

From the sounds of it, one or the other of the combatants drew blood. So the guy on the phone decided the best course for everyone concerned was early flights home. And could the person to whom he was talking please come pick them up at the airport.

Evidently he was speaking with a woman and she declined the invite to serve as the airport shuttle because -- from the side of the conversation I could hear -- her husband had set himself on fire dumping gasoline on the barbeque coals the day before.

I suspect that wasn't even the most interesting thing that happened at the trailer park that day.

In any event, we arrived in Key West just in time to attend the sunset celebration at Mallory Square. On our itinerary, this event described the local participants as arts-and-crafts exhibitors, street performers, food vendors, psychics and tourists. It made me chuckle.

The cornerstone of the Mallory Square Sunset Celebration is scores of kooks doing outrageous things disguising the fact they are really bumming money; in other words, panhandlers with a quirky talent is what they really are. The term "street performer" is a bit generous. "Street people" lands closer to the mark. It is a spectacle to be sure, and one every person should witness at least once. Having seen it at least half a dozen times, I didn't find it as engaging as some of the others in my group. I certainly wasn't sufficiently loaded to revel in the spirit of the process.

I was back on the front porch of the Cypress House by 10 p.m., glass of wine in my hand. Maybe I'm just too old for Key West?

Naah!  

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Don't Bogart My Boat: Day 2 in the Florida Keys

It's pretty tough to get lost in the Florida Keys. Even with my lackluster navigating skills and total lack of a sense of direction, I can't seem to lose my way on the single road that runs north to south from Key Largo to Key West.

The addresses are equally simple to decode. One doesn't even need to know the specific Key to locate a particular address. For example, the Palms & Pines Resort, where the tourism folks lodged me my first two nights of this Keys boondoggle, is at MM 80.4 Oceanside. That translates into "mile marker 80.4 on the east side of Old Highway. As you drive south that means it's on the left side of the road.

As it turns out, this is in Islamorada with an actual street number of 80401. See; so simple even the sense-of-direction impaired can get where they are going 9 out of 10 times. If you are at least somewhat brighter than I, you can probably achieve a perfect score of 10 out of 10.

I spent Tuesday in the navigator's seat, riding shotgun as our tourism liaison chauffeured us from place to place. My role consisted of shouting out, "That's it!" as we closed in on our next destination.

Carolina -- that's the liaison's name -- is with the Newman PR agency representing the Keys; a decent gig, if you ask me. I wouldn't work for a PR agency again to free my mother from a Turkish prison; but I guess if you have to, working the Florida Keys account would be about the best assignment you could expect. Despite laboring for a PR agency, Carolina has a pleasant disposition and has managed not to kill anyone during our little jaunts around the Keys.

As if I'm not already day-date-and-time challenged from simply being in the Keys, this is compounded by lollygagging, running up and down Old Highway between Key Largo and Islamorada for, what I think has been, two days.

Tuesday's highlight was taking a little cruise around a couple of canals on the freshly restored African Queen. Yes, the one used in the Humphrey Bogart movie of the same name.

Having just returned to service after a few years of neglect and a four-month restoration, our little cruise was its first public run in some time. The boiler is brand new. Actually there wasn't a boiler on the boat when John Houston found it, and the boiler in the movie was a prop. The new one is real, however, with the steam to run the engine being produced by burning diesel.

We were quite the spectacle chugging up the deep-water canal heading for the Atlantic. The clickity clack of the engine, the chime of the bell and the shrill scream of the steam whistle signaling our approach drew waves, applause and cameras. The African Queen's return to service was well publicized and anticipated in Key Largo. People crowded the dock to see us off and welcome us back 90 minutes later.

I was glad there were plenty of photographs snapped, so someone would have one to give to the local paper in case we were lost at sea. There is something about the sight of the engineer squirting oil into the engine mechanism as we motored along that didn't give me warm fuzzies. A somewhat new experience for the crew, pushing off the dock and getting under way was a bit exciting. I moved a little closer to the hold with the life jackets as the two-man crew struggled to get us underway.

I can't say that it wasn't fun.

Today we'll head down to Key West. I'm almost certain that's south….

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Taking the HighRoad From Florida City to Key Largo

Driving to Key West is always a bit of an adventure. It's easy to forget you are still in the good old US of A, rather than a Caribbean Island.

I am in the Keys at the behest of AAA of the Carolinas for a travel piece. I am one of five journalists in the care of a PR liaison for the Keys.

We typically think of getting from Florida City to Key West as just one straight road -- and it is -- but there is an alternate route from Florida City to Key Largo, the first of the Keys. It's Card Sound Road, a toll road. It costs all of one buck. Be sure and get a receipt!

What makes the toll well worth the money is a detour into Alabama Jack's. A biker bar, it's a craphole of the first order. However, the conch fritters are excellent and the snapper fingers fresh and succulent.

Because this is one of those very rare occasions when I'm not at the helm, I washed all this fresh seafood down with an ice-cold Corona. Ah…the Keys….

I must admit there isn't much to look at on Card Sound Rd. You know the Gulf of Mexico is to your right and the Atlantic to your left, but that's only because you catch brief glimpses of one or the other through the dense Everglade-like foliage that surrounds you on either side of the two-lane road.

Breaking out into Key Largo, we were rewarded with views of the obligatory gas stations, T-shirt shops and fast-food restaurants that dominate the commerce of the Keys.

We put in a cameo at Key Largo Chocolates. This is a freshly minted small business specializing in homemade candies. The key lime white chocolate is a treat. Donning hair nets, we toured the making process, sipped on some wine and wolfed down some candy. The owners wholesaled candy to businesses in the Keys for years before launching this retail store just two months ago. It's worth the stop.

I thought my ship had come in when we arrived at the chocolate joint and the promotional RV for Pusser's Rum was parked in front of it. Introducing myself to the driver, I had visions of a case of Pusser's, or at least a bottle, dancing in my head. Alas, I wound up with an airplane bottle of it instead, but who am I to complain?

We caught the sunset at the Kona Kai Resort and Gallery. This 11-room resort is cozy and picturesque. Offering an ideal view of the sunset no matter the time of year, Kona Kai is also a botanical garden. Tours are offered by a certified ethnobotonist. Apparently ethnobotony is some sort of new discipline defining the relationship between humans and plants. Don't ask me; I just heard of it on Monday.

Then it was dinner at the Islamorada Fish Company after checking into the Pines & Palms Resort. Yes, I can see the Atlantic from the lounge chair on my unit's front porch.

I'm off on another day of sightseeing and eating.

Work, work, work….  

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Some Ideas Simply Look Better on Paper: How to Waste 40 Bucks

I did something spectacularly stupid yesterday. I am sure that's no surprise to some of you.

What was this bonehead move? I went to the Upstate Beer Fest.

How can that be stupid? you might ask. Well for one thing, it cost $35.

On its surface $35 might not sound too bad. I mean there were probably 50 or 60 breweries there pouring beer. It may not be the big international beer fest that's in Denver every year, but at first blush, a collection of 50 or 60 breweries seems pretty big -- particularly for a four-hour event.

Apparently this was an international fest, too because there was a brewery from Canada and another from Belgium, I think. Actually I think the event was named after the International House of Pancakes. So it had that going for it.

There were a few good beers. I particularly liked the Bell's Kalamazoo Stout and the Left Hand Brewery's Black Jack Porter.

In truth, however, it was a colossal waste of money.

Here's why…

In addition to the $35 entrance fee, you can't park at a special event in Greenville for anything less than $5. Here, I'll do the math for you: $35 + $5 brought the total for this afternoon of rollicking fun to $40.

The event kicked off at 2 p.m. and by 3 p.m. some stations were already out of some their advertised beer. By 4:30 maybe as many as half the selections were gone. The event was scheduled to run until 6.

Upon presenting your ticket at the door, you were given a 4 oz plastic mug. This was the only excess at this thing. It was 2 oz more than they were pouring. So I guess you could count it as giving us 2 oz extra of plastic.

When you stand in line on average of 10 or 12 min to get your 2-ounce pour, you don't get to consume a whole lot of beer. I figured drinking it in 2-ounce increments; I may have sipped the equivalent of four bottles of beer in the two and a half hours I was there.

Okay, I'll do the math again: That's $40 for roughly 4 bottles of beer, or $10 a bottle.

I was there with some friends. We would have been much better off just going to a bar and drinking four beers. I wouldn't have had to fork out $5 for parking or fight the crowds.

That will be my last Upstate Beer Fest…ever.

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