Stuff to Do

Make Like Frank Lloyd: WrightSand Sculpture

I'll bet you thought all you needed for sand sculpture was a bucket and a shovel. Well, aside from sand, of course, that is all you need … to make lame houses shaped like buckets. But if you really want to blow all those tourist brats back into the water, you'll need a slightly heavier toolkit.

A melon baller, for instance — once reserved for Martha Stewart-wannabes and obsessive-compulsives who eat only round things — is actually the perfect tool for sculpting circular windows. A large, cake-decorating knife with a dull edge can be used for making long, straight cuts in your earthen edifice, and a mason's trowel (found at any hardware store) is convenient for bigger cuts. A straight-blade knife can also come in handy, and a small, cake-decorating tool will do for fine detailing (windows, doors, steps, eaves, weathervane, satellite dish, etc.). The most important tools, however, for the professional dirt designer are a ruler for smoothing out flat spots., and a common plastic straw, to blow away sand from intricately detailed areas.

Oh, and a bucket — not just any old bucket, but one with the bottom cut out. A plastic laundry bucket is perfect for larger projects and, remember, when it comes to besting snowbirds and their offspring, size does matter. If you wanna get really fancy, get a square, four-sided box with no bottom, preferably wood, preferably with openable hinges so you can remove the box from around your grainy foundation.

Now that you're outfitted, you're ready to go. Dampen your construction site, place either type of form — the bucket or the box — on it and fill the form with sand. Add plenty of water and pat down to tightly pack the mixture. From here, you can stack forms for a multilevel domicile, or just stick with the ranch-style castle; the forms should stay on till you're finished adding other forms. Remove them from top to bottom, sliding them off carefully and avoiding touching the sides of your sculpture. Lotsa water is most definitely the key here: If the sand crumples when you remove your forms, you haven't used enough and you've got to start over.

Doors and windows can be created by making square (or arched — go nuts!) outlines with the small, cake-decorating tool, hollowing them out and using your straw to blow out extraneous sand as you carve. From there, though, it's up to you, your imagination, and your tools to send those dilettantes back whence they came, yellow bucket between their sunburned legs.

—Stefanie Kalem

It's a Gas, Gas, Gas: Oxygen Bar

We have to admit we always thought oxygen bars were a decadent expense best enjoyed by those with nothing better to do with their money. But that was before sucking on the quality O2 at Posh Salon. If you happen to have 20 bones to spare, we highly suggest indulging. After all, the "air" we pull in and out of our lungs every second of our life isn't pure oxygen. Propane, petrol, carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide — all these and more can be found swirling around us at any moment, just waiting to attack our thoracic organs. Pure oxygen, on the other hand, is a rush.

Our experience with clean breathing occurred at Posh Salon. This small but lovely spa in south Tampa offers damn near everything: hair, nails, waxing, permanent makeup … and a full line of skin and body care regimes, including oxygen therapy. We opted for the basic O2 session rather than the hyperbaric chamber (a human-size tank — bad news for the claustrophobic — that allows filtered, ambient air to seep into the bloodstream). Seated in a quiet room, we had a hospital-type breathing tube around our ears and two nose pieces tucked firmly up our nostrils. If you've never had pure oxygen forced up your nose, we're here to tell ya, it's a trip! The icy cold air gives you a feeling akin to an ice cream headache for a split second, before your brain adjusts and the chill melts away, taking your troubles with it. And that's the gist; you sit in a chair breathing, allowing the oxygen to rejuvenate your body. Afterward, the slight lightheadedness aside, your body does feel energized, and a nice rosy tint covers your previous pallor (plus, you just feel so darn … cosmopolitan!).

Proponents of the practice claim an assortment of other benefits, from healthier skin to an absence of migraines to energy boosts. It's prudent to note, however, the basic oxygen treatment has a short-reaching effect, providing a brief (but needed) pick-me-up, and anyone suffering from inner-ear, heart or anxiety problems should consult a doctor before indulging.

Posh is at 3120 Bay to Bay Blvd., Tampa. Twenty-minute oxygen treatments cost $20; hyperbaric treatments cost $135 per hour. Hours are 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday; 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. Tuesday-Thursday; 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Friday and Saturday. Call 813-839-1882.

—Kelli K

Hook Up: Skyway Fishing Piers

The world's longest fishing pier, the Skyway Fishing Piers — the north side three-quarters of a mile long and the south side one-and-a-half miles long — were constructed by removing the steel center span of the original bridge, leaving twin four-lane piers to flank the shipping channel. Most of the concrete rubble, deck sections, pilings and girders were strategically placed along the remaining sections as reefs for the fishing piers. These reefs and the piers' columns attract schools of small fish like threadfin herring, known locally as greenbacks, and a great number of larger fish that feed on them, including grouper, redfish, mackerel and trout. Visitors park beside the spots they want to fish and are able to leave the pier and come back before midnight the same day without repaying. A fishing license is not required, and the catch limits are generous. The trick is setting your hook. To help toward this end, there are 24-hour bait shops on both piers, two on the south side that sell live shrimp and pinfish, frozen squid, ice, tackle, drinks and snacks. Fishing the pier at night has its benefits: more open spots along the rails during the weekend, an escape from the heat, sharks feeding. Add to that the unexpected charm of the new "cable-stay" Sunshine Skyway bridge, its yellow cables illuminated by safety lights, and a twinkling view of the Pinellas and Manatee county shores. The real beauty though, for those who fish seriously, is that once you're there, you can fish as long as you want.

The Skyway State Fishing Piers are open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, located where I-275 crosses Tampa Bay's Skyway Channel. Contact North Pier in St. Petersburg at 727-865-0668 and South Pier in Palmetto at 941-729-0117. Admission is $3 per vehicle, $10 for RVs and campers, $2 per extra adult, $1.50 for seniors, $1 for children 6-12, under 6 free.

—Cooper Cruz

Quack Up: Duck Tours of Tampa Bay

St. Pete and Tampa citizens, have you noticed the huge, bright yellow vehicles cruising around your respective downtown areas? You can't miss 'em — the half-truck/half-boat thingies look like open-air school buses, and their occupants are just as excitable as children. Technically known by the military acronym DUKW, the 2-1/2-ton amphibious vehicles were used during World War II to land personnel on beachheads and carry supplies from ship to shore. These days, with no World War III in our immediate future, Louis Betz Jr. and family have gotten their hands on four of the incredible vehicles (Huey, Dewey, Mallard and Disco) and have created Duck Tours of Tampa Bay. On a recent tour of St. Pete, my friends and I boarded Huey at The Pier.

Buck, our driver/guide with a sexy southern drawl, dispenses a few rules before leading us on a land tour of St. Pete's points of interest. Huey waddles by the Coliseum, the old Studebaker assembly plant, the Museum of Fine Arts' kapok tree, parks, churches and other historic spots, with Buck dispensing information throughout (at Vinoy Park's "Truth" sculpture: "Anyone know what the "Truth" sculpture means? To tell ya the truth, neither do I!"). Upon reaching Demens Landing, Buck eases the machine into Tampa Bay where, at Huey's top speed of seven knots, the vehicle rumbles with a not-altogether-unpleasant metallic vibration as we take in the St. Pete waterfront.

At roughly 80 minutes, the rides are fun enough, but what makes them worth the $20 admission is the drivers. Buck impressed us with his unscripted knowledge of St. Pete and its forefathers, and brightened our day with his cheesy humor (asking the car next to us for some Grey Poupon, annoying outside diners, etc.). Even better, Buck involves the passengers, urging us to give walkers "a little how-die" with our shrill "quacker" whistles, allowing us to point and stare at the gawkers and hipping us to the proper usage of the word "y'all."

A similar Tampa tour kicks off at Newk's Cafe (across from the Ice Palace) and cruises through downtown and the University of Tampa before taking a dive into Hillsborough River, then on to Ybor City.

Tours depart Wednesday through Sunday, at 11 a.m., 1 p.m., 3 p.m. and 5 p.m.. The Pier's at 800 Second Ave. N.E., St. Pete; Newk's is at 514 Channelside Drive, Tampa. Call 727-432-DUCK or 813-310-DUCK. Visit online at www.DuckToursOfTampaBay.com.

—Kelli K

Just Shoot Me: Public Access Television

If you, dear cable subscriber, doubt that they let just about anybody on public access, tune in sometime.

Wayne Jenkins, studio coordinator and indefatigable proponent of the medium at the Tampa Bay Community Network, recalls attending a conference where program tapes from around the country were screened. Many probably would make even Wayne and Garth barf. But Jenkins had a personal favorite. A guy opened his weekly show by introducing himself. Then, for 30 seemingly interminable minutes, he sat, stood or stretched without saying a thing. Just before signoff, he cleared his throat, peered into the camera, and intoned cheerfully: "Tune in next week."

"I liked it," Jenkins said, "because he could do it and nobody could stop him."

Public access is a wonderfully varied mess of a video democracy. But surely you can do better than the non-talk-show host. The summer months are a great time to try to prove it by learning television production.

Jenkins prefers the term "television" rather than the possibly more pejorative "public access." He told an orientation class: "This is not a public access center. This is a television studio. When you come down here, you're practicing television."

You must be a Hillsborough County resident to practice television at the Tampa Bay Community Network, which is administered by nonprofit Speak Up Tampa Bay Public Access Television Inc. (Disclosure: Weekly Planet President Ben Eason helped found Speak Up Tampa Bay.)

For $2.40, the network will sell you a policies-and-procedures manual. Read it; study it. You will be tested on it. The manual covers the dos and don'ts of using the network equipment and studios.

If you get a passing grade on the 20 questions, you are assigned to an orientation session. The classes are held every other Friday at 5:30 p.m.

Jenkins is a most entertaining proselytizer, punctuating his sweeping declarations with "You feel me?" He told a recent orientation class: "Don't be coming in here nervous. Our job is to make sure you enjoy yourselves."

Classes in graphics, editing and studio production are required before anybody can use network gear for real.

The Tampa Bay Community Network offices and studios are at 1001 N. B St., Tampa (off North Boulevard, behind the Martinez Sports Center at the University of Tampa) and are open Tuesday through Saturday from 2 p.m. to midnight and Sundays from 12 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. Call 813-254-1687 for information.

—Francis X. Gilpin

Dripping With Kindness: Clearwater Marine Aquarium

According to a descriptive sign, the long, eel-like fish hanging on the lobby wall of the Clearwater Marine Aquarium is an oarfish. A fisherman caught the rare deep-sea fish in a net at a 300-foot depth.

For 25 years the aquarium's been in the business of "rescue and rehab," says nice public relations guy Scott Swaim, who also heads up the animal-assisted therapy programs for children. Even the Clearwater Marine Aquarium couldn't help this poor oarfish, though. The chap who caught it back in 1954 hacked it into four pieces and buried them separately so they couldn't grow back together and "harm the world."

Mistaking innocent deep-sea creatures for Satan's minions? Gosh, people sure were stupid back in the day. Well, guess what? They still are, wreaking a world of harm on the fish, turtles and dolphins that make their way to the aquarium for the kind of R and R Swaim refers to. Loggerhead turtles with fins choked off by trusty monofilament line from tackle boxes and others shocked by "cold stun," thanks to the atypical cold snaps we had this past winter, swim in nearby tanks. Other turtles are suffering from a mysterious neurological disorder that leaves them a hair's breadth from paralysis, and others, secreted away in the Intensive Care Unit are covered in equally mysterious soft-tissue tumors that have them looking like elephant-man-turtles.

That's "suffering," not "succumbing," thanks to the money that comes from donations and admission prices paid by nice folks such as yourself looking for something to do on a hot summer day. Volunteers from all walks of life — students, retirees, airline pilots — and a small stalwart staff keep the place running. There's a hands-on stingray encounter, some playful North American River Otters, one rescued from a Pinellas backyard pool. Then there's Sunset, the multitalented Atlantic bottlenose dolphin who, among other pursuits, paints. Clenching a paintbrush in teeth, the mammal paints with porpoise; his original works are available for purchase. Just when you thought it was safe to go back to being cynical, they go and hold camps for kids as well as interactive programs for handicapped children. There are even soda machines for when you get thirsty. Basically, these are nice people doing good things with their neat aquarium, and we're all invited. Now, if they could just do something about all those mullets down in Pinellas Park.

The Clearwater Marine Aquarium is at 249 Windward Passage, Clearwater (727-441-1790). Admission for adults costs $7.75, $5.25 for kids 3-11. Open 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Monday-Friday, 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday and 11 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday.

—David Jasper

Gutter Talk: Bowling

Ah, bowling … the everyman's game. Our attraction to this most humble of sports lies in its body factor or lack thereof. Old, young, slim, squat — as long as your arms are in moderately good working order, you're good to go.

A bigger decision than to bowl or not to bowl is location. Do you want to spend tense, insecure moments throwing balls alongside league players with a cumulative score of 6,000? Our answer would be a resounding "no!" It's for this reason that we frequent smaller, mom-and-pop alleys. The kind where one can mingle not only with the salt of the earth, but the sand, dirt and mud as well.

On the Tampa side, Pinarama is a favorite spot. With only 16 lanes, you might have to belly up to the bar during peak times (weekend days, mostly), but it's worth the wait. Pinarama patrons have one goal in mind — a good time. You get your occasional anal retentives; the overbearing dad who screams at his kid for improper follow-through, obviously trying to realize failed professional bowling dreams through his child. But if you can ignore the vocal types, and the alley's fondness for country tunes, Pinarama's perfect for low-key bowling (especially if you suck as badly as we do).

So why, if we suck, do we continue to bowl? It's an American institution, man. Balls with ill-fitting finger holes, ugly shoes that have seen a thousand pairs of feet, cheap pitchers of bad American beer. And, of course, bowling's the cheapest therapy going. Yoga's got nothing on bowling for stress reduction or forgetting that sanctimonious speech from the little weasel two cubicles over. Visualize your coworker's and/or supervisor's head on the pins and start smashing.

Pinarama's at 5008 S. Dale Mabry, Tampa. Hours are 10 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. Monday through Thursday; 10 a.m. to 1 a.m. Friday and Saturday; and noon to 10:30 p.m. Sunday (closing times are flexible; the busier it is, the later Pinarama stays open). Games cost $1.99 during the day and $2.95 at night ($1 from 6 to 10 p.m. Sunday; $1.95 from 6 p.m. to closing Wednesday). Shoes cost $1.99. Call 813-835-7665.

—Kelli K

Suck It Up: Summer Drinks Summer without alcohol would be like, well, sunstroke without a hangover. And so, without further ado, we offer you some lush-ious recipes to make staring at the sun a little more comfortable.

Planter's Punch (courtesy of Megan at The Undertow Beach Bar)

1 1/2 oz. light rum

1 1/2 oz. dark rum

teaspoon of pineapple juice

1/2 oz. grenadine

Mix and pour over ice.

Bushwhacker (yeah, we know it's an Outback Steakhouse drink, but this version is courtesy of Eddie Jane at Woody's Waterfront)

1/4 part Kahlua

1/4 part Bailey's Irish Cream

1/2 shot of vodka

1/2 shot of amaretto

splash of Coco Lopez

splash of milk

Add ice and blend.

Ruth Kennedy (courtesy of Scott Imrich at The Hub, name coined by Brian Katz)

Ketel One vodka

splash of cranberry juice

splash of soda

Cooperstown (courtesy of Scott Imrich at The Hub)

Mostly Dry Gin

dash of sweet vermouth

dash of dry vermouth

Serve on rocks, garnished with cherry or sprig of fresh mint (mint not available at The Hub — all you'll get there is a blank stare)

Honolulu Cocktail (courtesy of The Teeny Tiny Tiki Drink Book, free with Issue #6 of Thrift Score Magazine)

1 dash Angostura Bitters

1 dash orange juice

dash pineapple juice

dash lemon juice

1 glass dry gin

a little powdered sugar

Mix with cracked ice, shake well and strain

Zombie (courtesy of The Teeny Tiny Tiki Drink Book — this is what Cathy with a "C" was drinking on Kids in the Hall when she caught the jungle fever)

1 oz. dark rum

2 oz. light rum

1/2 oz. 151 rum

1 oz. orange curacao

1 oz. lemon juice

1 oz. orange juice

1/2 oz. grenadine

dash pernod

Mix in glass with large piece of ice. Stir well and pour over cracked ice in 14-oz. chimney glass.

—Stefanie Kalem

Glassy Eyed: Stained Glass Class

Summertime: synonymous with beaches, baseball games and bike rides. Screw that! This is Florida, Jack, and it's damn hot out there. If you think I'm gonna damage my lily-white skin for your sake, you've been sniffing too much Hawaiian Tropic. Give me a nice air-conditioned room and something to occupy my mind and/or hands, and I'm just ducky. I found all three at Delphi.

I'm no Picasso; most of my creative bursts are limited to font changes. But in the interest of preventing my right brain from turning to mush, I wandered into the art shop one rainy Sunday to check out the goods. Can you say "wow?" The place is huge, and as my neck whipped my head in all directions, I found myself saying, "I want to do that." "And that." And that too!" And the beauty part is — anyone can.

Through knowledgeable artists, Delphi offers classes in fused vases, bracelets and art glass plates, kiln-cast bowls, glass bead making and lots of mosaic projects, to name a few. I chose the house specialty — stained glass. It's hard to guess just how many pieces of glass Delphi has in stock at any given time. Let's just say I wouldn't want to be within a five-mile radius if the building exploded. The shop also carries grinders, solders, foil and everything else the novice needs to create a stained-glass workshop.

Having never even picked up a glass cutter, I eschewed the more in-depth projects and signed up for A Touch of Glass instead. This beginner's class ($25, materials included) hips you to the tools and terms while you create a small stained glass heart. After a moment of trepidation and with plenty of encouragement from instructor Natalie Lorenzen, I was cutting, grinding and soldering like a pro. Well, not really, but I didn't grind my fingernails off or scorch my skin with molten solder. With four years of stained-glass skills under her belt, Lorenzen has a way of making the tools seem less frightening. The two-and-a-half hour class flies by, and you leave with tangible proof of artistic skills you didn't know you had.

I've been gloating ever since.

Delphi's at 11780 N. Dale Mabry, Tampa. Class prices range from $20 to $70, many with materials included. Call 813-908-8599, or visit www.delphiglass.com.

—Kelli K

Go Dog Wild: Derby Lane

It's like going to another world, the dog track. First you pass the skinny valet guys running to and fro in the parking lot. In exchange for a dollar, a woman wearing some sort of grip on her thumb slides you a token. You drop the coin in a slot and pass through a turnstile. This ain't no subway, and not just because you're riding an up-escalator up.

You're not prepared for the sight: banks of televisions monitored by pupils well beyond the traditional age. Pencils at mouths, papers on desks. These aren't soap operas they're showing on TV. They're horse races, jai alai, other dog races, every form of gambling can be had here, right down to poker games in T.L.'s Cardroom, with continuous play from 11:30 a.m. to 1 a.m. Back at the off-track betting TVs, husbands and wives sit next to each other commiserating while crusty loners emit don't-fuckin'-look at-me vibes. Outside, though, it's a different story. Families taking a day off from Disney lean on the fence as their progeny run around the hot asphalt or head for the arcade. Yuppie couples share green benches (not those green benches) with oldsters wielding binoculars.

Given the 15-minute lulls between races, there's plenty of time to people watch if you're not gambling. If you are, you're bound to be poring over the racing program ($1). When you place your bet, don't let the nearby IRS window bog you down. Don't be surprised if a guy in shorts and black socks hoisted clear to his knee caps walks up to the fence and says, "Come on 1, 3, 5!" Then, as if obeying urges other than their blind will to get the goddamned bunny, the dogs finish in that order. The place is crawling with people who seem to know what they're doing, which is chasing money with beer and enjoying the sport of seeing skinny canines chase a fake rabbit around a dirt track in the Florida sun.

The season continues at Derby Lane until June 30. Derby Lane is at 10490 Gandy Blvd., St. Petersburg. Hours 11:30 a.m. to 11:30 p.m. daily. Closed for live racing Sunday. Televised simulcast races shown Sunday and intermittently throughout the week. Call 727-812-3339.

—David Jasper

Get it Fresh: Farmer's Markets

The Ybor City Fresh Market is back and back where it should be.

The fledgling open-air produce market relocated to touristy Centro Ybor last year, and the disastrous move nearly killed the weekly event. Vendors said the new dining-entertainment-shopping complex drew few Saturday patrons, and most of those were out-of-towners killing time before boarding a cruise ship down the street at Garrison Seaport.

Folks about to embark on an all-expenses-paid voyage were not much interested in picking up a couple pounds of tomatoes.

"What a mistake," said herb farmer Brian Husson.

After a four-month absence, the Ybor City Fresh Market reappeared in March at its original Centennial Park home, the corner of Eighth Avenue and 18th Street. The crowds have gradually returned. As of this writing, the market is slated to stay open into the summer months.

"It's picking up," said Husson. "It's getting progressively better."

Vendors sell fruits and vegetables, of course. But, on a recent visit, Husson and his wife Marilyn, had herb plants from their farm in Brooksville. Debbie Williams and Dave Laggner of St. Petersburg's D&D's Fresh and Frozen Seafood were peddling shrimp, crabs and other fish. Two bakeries, one from Palmetto and one from Clearwater, sold banana bread and healthy pastries.

If you're not hungry, there are flowers and plants or arts and crafts to buy. The Saturday-only hours are from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Another farmer's market that doesn't wilt in the heat is held in Temple Terrace every Saturday from 7 a.m. to 1 p.m. The chamber of commerce-sponsored event offers roughly the same menu as the Ybor City market. Fruits, vegetables, fish, bread, plants and jewelry are available, in some cases from the same vendors who frequent Centennial Park.

Farmer's markets in Clearwater and Bradenton closed in April, but the Sarasota Downtown Farmers' Market remains open every Saturday from 7 a.m. to noon.

The quality of the edibles is usually quite high and the taste of the produce is enhanced by the knowledge that you are helping to support a vanishing breed — the small, family-owned agricultural enterprise.

For more information on local farmer's markets, visit www.fl-ag.com. Also, for the Ybor City Fresh Market, call 813-241-2442. For the Temple Terrace market, next to City Hall on North 56th Street one block south of Fowler Avenue, call 813-263-5325. For the Sarasota market, on Main Street at Lemon Avenue, call 941-355-5522. For a list of roadside fruit and vegetable stands in Hillsborough County, go to www.hillsboroughcounty.org/econdev.

—Francis X. Gilpin

Pret-a-Partay: Women's Summer Fashion

Summer fashion in Florida is a bit of a no-brainer. But just in case you're new to the Sunshine Foreleg, lemme tell you, it's like this: Don't wear a lot of clothes. It gets really hot. Be as naked as possible, and if you want to be trendy, accessorize. But we'll get to that later.

TJ Maxx stores are all over the Bay area, and they're great places to buy tank tops, camisoles and any other manner of sleeveless top-frocks, for reasonable prices. A more Tampacentric option is the Contempo Casuals at Tampa Bay Center. The latest in a series of local malls to begin the slow creep toward belly-upsville, TBC is home to a variety of Everything's $8!-type shops, and Contempo is the place for cheap tanks.

For the oh-so-important wrap skirt, thrift stores are the key. One of the best things about living down here is that the humidity helps fabric stick to your skin — kinda gross sometimes, sure, but very handy when it comes to keeping wrap skirts from showing your naughty bits when the wind blows. Other easy thrift scores for summer: big straw hats, big belts, shawls and pleated skirts, which are back in a big way.

A great new, cheap place for summer shoes is Shoe Spot on Kennedy Boulevard in Tampa. Men's, Women's and Children's styles by Dr. Martens, Kenneth Cole Unlisted, BCBG, Candies, Simple and more are available there for unbelievably discounted prices. Go to the store — which is only open Fri.-Sun., noon to 6 p.m. — or check out the Web site at www.shoespot.com.

For accessories: If you haven't already, go rock. Spiked belts, massive hoops and, hey, while you're working that shawl, you may as well work some gold too. Yes, it's true; gold is finally cool again. Folks with dark skin have never given up on the precious metal, since it glows so nice against deeper skin tones. But now the rest of us should take the plunge again, as well.

TJ Maxx has locations throughout the Tampa Bay area. Tampa Bay Center is at 3302 Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., Tampa, and Shoe Spot is at 2017 W. Kennedy Blvd., Tampa.

—Stefanie Kalem

O, Pioneers!The Pioneer Florida Museum of Dade City

On 16 wooded acres, the Pioneer Florida Museum of Dade City exists in near anonymity. The grass field that serves as its parking lot overlooks an underdeveloped stretch of U.S. 301, by which visitors come. The museum's borders are set quaintly by split-rail fence, and many of the exhibits are open-air, such as a row of roughly two dozen old plows and a turn-of-the-century Porter Steam Engine. Strolling about the grounds is as refreshing as it is educating. On display are tools of the cracker-era pioneer, showing how they built their homes, made furniture, plowed fields, harvested crops and did leatherwork and blacksmithing. In the Overstreet House, a two-story farmhouse from the 1860s constructed of native heart pine, are original furnishings that reflect everyday household work, such as churning butter, cooking over a wood-burning stove, spinning, weaving and boiling the family wash. A bright red barn houses early farm equipment, vintage buggies and carriages. Not to be missed are two buildings in which visitors are welcome to have a seat, a restored one-room schoolhouse from Lacoochee and an 1878 Methodist church from Enterprise. And, as if this were not enough to warrant a look at Florida's past, every visitor receives a wooden nickel.

The Pioneer Florida Museum is at 15602 Pioneer Museum Road, Dade City. It's open 1-5 p.m. Tuesday-Sunday. Admission is $5 for adults, $4 for seniors, $2 for students and children 6-12, and free for tots 5 and younger. Call 352-567-0262.

—Cooper Cruz

Flipper Fun: Dolphin Encounter Boat Trip

How many times do we cruise past all those wet-and-wild tourist attractions on the Gulf beaches and feel left out while strangers from unknown parts exploit our natural wonders? Why should they have all the fun while we navigate our humdrum routines of work and megastore shopping?

Having experienced the occasional dolphin sighting, I was curious about the exciting aqua-mammal adventures that await out-of-state sun worshippers. I decided to partake of this tacky experience.

I, along with my pals and nephews, boarded the 125-passenger double-decker Clearwater Express, manned by Captain Will Clair and mates Randy McClure and Bill Moretti. Captain Will was our friendly tour guide, taking us through the emerald green Intracoastal Waterway. He was funny in the corny way tour guides are, but instead of a coy invite to Mexico, I would have preferred more info on the lush vegetation and natural wonders we floated by. For instance, he didn't say a word about the tiny patch of land known as Bird Island. Thousands of feathered species crowd it every day. And when we went under the Clearwater Pass Bridge, he didn't even remember its name. (However, he did point out the house being built for John Travolta, along with Hulk Hogan's abode, which got a lot of oohs and aahs from the sun-visor set.)

More than an hour went by during our excursion without our seeing one fin pop out of the water. Captain Will said that we'd get the next trip for free if we didn't see any. The crew made it up to the kiddies by offering bread to feed the sea gulls. This dismayed many adults, sending them scurrying for shelter.

Not all hope was lost. We did see some dolphins playing under the Memorial Causeway the final few minutes of the trip. The boat was a little too far away for my liking, but motorboats and Jet Skis prevented us from getting up close.

So would I recommend this tourist-trap-on-water? Yes, but with reservations. If you have a friend with a boat, you'll save 12 bucks and probably have better chances of getting a gander at Flipper. If you don't, the Dolphin Encounter is a pleasant way to pass a sunny afternoon.

The Dolphin Encounter docks at the Clearwater Beach Marina, at the west end of State Road 60, south of the roundabout. Adult admission is $11.95; children pay $7. Snack bar and restrooms available. Trips are 1-1/2 hours long. Reservations recommended. Call 727-442-7433.

—Julie Garisto

A Musical Banquet: Florida Folk Festival

Cousin Thelma used to call the Florida Folk Festival "a big ol' cauldron of musical mulligan stew." The late matriarch of Florida folklife had it figured this way: You take 500 of Florida's best musicians and performers, sprinkle in a couple dozen or so fine artists and craftsmen, separate them on 12 stages, mix in 75 instructional workshops, let it all simmer for a couple days and nights on the banks of the Suwannee River and serve a gourmet feast to thousands of schoolkids, sweethearts, hikers, bikers and just plain folk in a picnic beneath the tall pines and magnolias.

This year's "stew" will be served May 25-27 at the Stephen Foster State Folk Culture Center in White Spring, Fla.

Friday is Kids' Day all day, featuring a park full of children's fun, including shows by Tampa Bay's own Shana Banana.

Friday night will be dedicated to dance — with Swing Shift, a 10-piece band with a horn section — and blues and jazz behind headliner Noble "Thin Man" Watts.

Saturday's serving will be an all-day and all-night musical buffet featuring everything from the highly competitive state fiddle contest to an appearance by Secretary of State Katherine Harris to announce the results of the balloting for the Florida Folk Heritage award. A reunion of acoustic wizards Tony Rice (guitar) and Vassar Clements (fiddle) tops the bill for the evening concert.

Sunday is a brunch of bluegrass, folk, Cajun, dance, ethnic and other live music, winding up with the swamp sounds of Seminole Chief Jim Billie and the country music of the legendary Bellamy Brothers.

Nearly 100 juried vendors will make up the rustic Festival Marketplace along with more than 50 food and beverage vendors. And drum circles after dark every night. Are you hungry yet?

The Stephen Foster State Folk Culture Center is near the intersection of I-10 and I-75 in White Springs Florida (Exit 84). $20 a day at the gate ($15 in advance). Kids get in for only 4 bucks. For more information call 850-488-1484 or check the Internet at www.flheritage.com/folkfest

—John F. Sugg

Lend a Helping Paw: Friends of Strays

If you have a few hours on weekend mornings this summer, the furry felines at Friends of Strays in St. Petersburg could use a patient hand.

Summer is cat season. Hungry, often ailing strays are on the loose in Pinellas County neighborhoods.

Friends of Strays, a nonprofit animal welfare organization serving the county, has capacity for up to 200 abandoned cats at a time. That's a lot of blankets to wash, cages to clean, food and water dishes to replenish, kitty litter to freshen up.

The 23-year-old group is greatly dependent on unpaid help. Friends of Strays usually has enough volunteers during the week. It's the 8:30-to-11:30 shifts on Saturday and Sunday mornings that often go unfilled.

The shelter and kennel work in a converted cabinetmaker's workshop isn't glamorous. (A smaller number of dogs are taken in by Friends of Strays.) After the cats are admitted to the shelter, they move through several wards while getting bathed, vaccinated, and spayed or neutered. Only then are they put up for adoption. The shelter managers are as finicky as some of their boarders. Cages are scrubbed whenever an animal changes places, to prevent the spread of upper-respiratory and other infections.

"We place healthy stray animals in suitable homes," Friends of Strays promises in a pamphlet.

For volunteers who prefer something a bit less messy and strenuous, Friends of Strays have other needs.

Cats on the adoption list must be chauffeured a short distance between the shelter and the adoption center, where prospective owners fill out paperwork and look over the animals. The adoption center, at U.S. 19 and Gandy Boulevard, also houses a thrift shop that raises funds for care of the animals. Volunteers can sort donations. ("It goes from diamond rings to bowling balls," said one staffer. "We get everything.") Volunteers mend clothing and repair household appliances for sale, too.

The adoption process is designed to place the animal in a permanent home. The screening of applicants is quite elaborate. Among the requirements are a lengthy questionnaire and a home inspection, both of which may be conducted by volunteers.

To obtain an application to volunteer at Friends of Strays, call 727-522-6566.

—Francis X. Gilpin

Spiritual Journey: Ybor City Ghost Walk

Pop Quiz:

1. What year was Ybor City incorporated?

2. Which Spanish civil engineer, in search of guavas, hipped Don Vicente Martinez de Ybor to the Tampa area?

3. What type of business once resided in the space now occupied by L.A. Mode?

How'dja do? Two outta three? One? Oh man, if you say "none," you aren't worthy to clean the vomit off Seventh Avenue after a weekend bender, let alone partake of the revelry. The answers, by the by, are 1.) 1887; 2.) Don Gavino Guiterrez; and 3.) the hardware store owned by the Greco family. All of which you'd know if you had taken the Ybor Ghost Walk.

With equal amounts education and cheese, an actor leads groups from the lobby of Centro Ybor's Metropolitan Deluxe to points of interest on Seventh, Eighth and Ninth avenues, four days per week. On a recent Sunday stroll, tour guide and occasional Centro face-painter Krystal Elliott rubs "channeling cream" on her left elbow to invoke Ybor's unsettled spirits. Reciting a script penned by Marilyn Mars, Elliott heads east on Seventh Avenue, discussing the influx of Jewish, Italian, Cuban and Spanish immigrants to the area in 1890. It's not long, however, before the first ghost takes hold of Elliott's vocal chords. Hoisting a cigar (natch), the deep-voiced visitor introduces himself at Don Vicente Martinez de Ybor. Not content to roll cigars in that Big Tobacco Field in the Sky, Martinez regales the crowd with tales of his arrival in Tampa and the development of Ybor.

Plenty of other characters crop up throughout the tour, each offering bits of history and curious practices of Ybor's tight-knit community. Among them: the shady Charlie Wall explains how to get rich by rigging bolita games (a Cuban lottery); Louis Shine, a crotchety Jewish fabric merchant, recommends his foolproof, canary security system; and a moonshine-swilling gent by the name of Victor confides the treacherous act of murdering his entire family with an ax.

Ghost Walks take place Thursday-Sunday by appointment only, and times are flexible. The 75-minute tours cost $10 for adults, $8 for children, and optional tours-on-tape are available in English, Spanish and German. Call 813-242-4660.

—Kelli K

Fore! Play: Par 3 Golf

It looks so damn easy. The ball's just sitting there on the ground; it's not even moving, for Chrissakes. You grab your club, eyeball the thing, take a whack and watch it fly, straight and true, down the fairway. Ah, if only it were thus.

There's a reason so few golfers make it onto the tour, a reason so few can even play well recreationally. And that reason is this: Golf is fucking hard.

That's why some of us have dabbled on the links, only to relegate the clubs and balls and tees and Ping hats to the corner of the garage. We, as they say, had to quit the game — because the heavy doses of frustration were simply not worth it.

But there is a way — under the right conditions — for those who like the idea of playing golf to actually get out and do it without our clubs ending up in the lake. Find a nine-hole Par 3 course, like Cypress Links, a public course in St. Petersburg. The time investment is much smaller, the stress and fatigue are less, and you can actually have some fun.

Here's the most important thing: Do not lower your expectations. Obliterate them entirely. This is crucial: You must shoot a Par 3 round without the first thought of ever giving a shit how you do.

Bring along just a putter and a 9 iron. You can even go alone. You might fall into a foursome with Ernie, Angie and Don, 70-something retirees from up north, who you quickly discover have mastered the art of not giving a damn. The conversation is good; the gags come fast and furious.

The pretty tee shot that hangs in the air and drops just short of the green — let that put a smile on your face. The horribly shanked stroke that sends your ball into the adjacent fairway — laugh at that one. The 8-foot putt you knock in for par — yes, par — permit yourself a little Tiger Woods air punch. The short chip that sails over the green into the opposite sand trap — guffaw about that one.

If your karma stays good, and you truly do not give a damn during your round, you may end up borrowing Angie's 3 wood on the ninth hole and hitting one like buttah, and watching it travel, straight and true, 160 yards to about 15 feet from the green. And you try to close out with a birdie — yes, birdie — but you slide the putt a little right and end up with a tap-in for par.

And that seven and couple of sixes earlier in the round don't matter a whit. You can definitely go home smiling.

Cypress Links is at 875 62nd Ave. N.E., St. Petersburg. It costs $8.56 to walk the course, $12.31 to ride a cart. Call 727-551-3333.

—Eric Snider

Back in the Day: Heritage Village

In a lab coat and bow tie, Dr. Owen looks a tad overdressed to be hanging out on the front porch of the old Walsingham House, a 1915 home from about a mile and a half east of Largo's Heritage Village — itself a world away from the zippy present. It's just one edifice among many early homes, barns and shops that have been relocated to this historic park and museum.

Awaiting his next appointment, Dr. Owen kills time by strumming his psaltery, a medieval stringed instrument that goes back a lot further than the rest of the historical artifacts at Heritage Village.

Dr. Owen is not really a doctor, but he plays one at his volunteer gig, and the appointments he's keeping are really just the tours of the house. Owen is actually docent Carl Sarine, one of more than 150 volunteers who help keep the village functioning.

The house was never a doctor's office, but its rooms are set up that way. In the front room, a glass container holds early 20th century medical equipment: bone saws, early ear-wax evacuation equipment. A handy numbered chart hanging on the wall behind the case tells visitors what they're looking at. In some cases, as the doctor jokes, you won't want to know.

"I like the 29s," he says, and a glance at the chart shows he's referring to the more painful, invasive items — urethral catheters for men. No. 40 is a rectal speculum, probably an early attempt at equal rights for both genders.

After you're done making sure your body parts are still intact, Dr. Owen leads you through examination rooms, a pharmacy and a kitchen set up as a laboratory. He'll gladly demonstrate everything from an old Dictaphone to quack medical machinery such as the spectro chrome-metry, with its pretty light filters that were meant to heal various ailments, and the violet ray machine, with its lightning in a glass beaker, which when you touch to your hand sparks up like a lightning ball from Spencer's Gifts.

"You name the disease, and this thing was claimed to clear it," says Dr. Owen.

If we're talking about the modern maladies — technology, traffic — the same claims could be made for Heritage Village's curative powers. The words "idyllic" and "tranquil" leap to mind as you walk the wooded grounds, taking in the wooden homes, the log cabin, the fresh, pine-scented air. Put another way: While you can hear the traffic of nearby Ulmerton and Walsingham roads, you can't see it for the trees.

Heritage Village is at 11909 125th St. N., Largo. Hours are 10 a.m.- 4 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday and 1-4 p.m. Sunday. Call 727-582-2123.

—David Jasper

Touching History: Florida Holocaust Museum

Did you know that Florida is the only state in the nation that requires teaching about the Holocaust in its school system? Conveniently for those of us 18 or older, Tampa Bay is also home to the fourth largest Holocaust museum in the country, and if you've never visited the St. Pete museum, you're missing out on one of the most visceral historical experiences the area has to offer.

The museum occupies three floors. The top level is the Education Center, containing two classrooms, The Murray Tolerance Center (housing computer resources) and a library and resource center. The second floor is home to the East and West Galleries, where special exhibitions are shown. Currently, the galleries are hosting two extraordinary exhibitions, Women of Ravensbrück — Portraits of Courage and Working Through the Past: Paintings of Samuel Bak 1946-2000.

The Portraits of Courage exhibit, running through Sept. 9, is a startling tribute to the prisoners of Ravensbrück, the only major concentration camp built exclusively for women. Photos of the camp, then and now, are interspersed with reproductions of original drawings by prisoners and crafts that the women gave to one another as spirit-lifting gifts, such as book covers and small purses, handmade from whatever meager materials were available. The exhibit was curated by the artist Julia Terwilliger, who also created the seven large photo transfer/mixed-media Portraits of Courage pieces, and the 10-foot-tall Memorial Triangle.

Working Through the Past hangs around until Aug. 19. Samuel Bak first exhibited his art at the age of 6, in Poland's Vilna ghetto. Though his father and grandparents were murdered by Nazis in mass shootings near Vilna, young Samuel and his mother survived. His art is vibrant, deliciously surrealist and cobbled with Biblical imagery. His art contains, writes Bak, "undecipherable messages from a God-fearing atheist"; it is his attempt at deciphering the world.

The first floor is home to the museum's extensive Permanent Exhibit, divided into 12 areas that lead you through the rise and fall of the Third Reich. Particularly chilling are the real propaganda posters, artifacts that tell the tales of Kristallnacht and the doomed voyage of the St. Louis, and the exhibit's appropriate end of the line: a real train car used to transport not just Jews, but Catholics, homosexuals, Gypsies and the handicapped, mentally and terminally ill to concentration camps in Nazi-occupied Poland. To touch its wood and the iron of its wheels is to make physical contact with the dark side of the human spirit.

You can, however, also make contact with the bright side of the human spirit if you visit the museum when docent John Joseph is leading the downstairs tour. A spry, tan, jocular man of 81, Joseph made a harrowing escape from Germany at the age of 18; his brother died in the camps. He's a powerful speaker with a great sense of humor and many personal connections to the prisoners and survivors depicted on the museum walls.

No matter what your nationality, religion or extraction, the Florida Holocaust Museum is a moving lesson in tolerance.

The Florida Holocaust Museum is in downtown St. Petersburg at 55 Fifth St. S. Hours are Monday-Friday 10 a.m.-5 p.m., Saturday and Sunday noon-5. General admission costs $6, seniors and college students pay $5 with ID and those $18 and under pay $2. Call 727-820-0100 or visit www.flholocaustmuseum.org.

—Stefanie Kalem

A Cold Day in August: Ice Skating

Is there a better way to spend a hot summer afternoon in Florida than pulling out a wooly sweater and heading to an ice rink for public skating?

Maybe just hanging out in an air-conditioned bar. Well, you can indulge in both pursuits at two Tampa Bay area ice emporia.

Taverns are conveniently located inside the Ice Sports Forum in Brandon and J.P. Igloo in Ellenton. And they offer something stronger than hot cocoa to soothe the ankles and leg muscles of the occasional skater.

The Ice Sports Forum off Falkenburg Road, north of State Road 60, hosts Tampa Bay Lightning hockey practice during the winter. In the summer, open skating sessions are sandwiched between figure skating and hockey clinics. Open skating and skate rental for adults on weekends cost around $10.

The Brandon rink is part of the FunLeague Group, which also operates the Tampa Bay Skating Academy ice rink in Oldsmar.

The igloo-shape building visible to motorists traveling south from Tampa on I-75 is J.P. Igloo, one of the most impressive athletic facilities around. Finding it once you get off the highway is tricky. J.P. Igloo is behind Prime Outlets, a shopping mall also at Exit 43. Follow the shoppers off the interstate and keep driving north past the mall onto 29th Street East. until you see the pseudo-igloo.

Inside the 115,000-square-foot J.P. Igloo are two full-length ice hockey rinks, an in-line rink and a fitness center, in addition to the usual pro shop and video arcade. The bar and restaurant are off the main lobby.

The ice — on the rink — is good and hard. Admission to a recent weekday general skating session was $7.25, including skate rental and a locker for your shoes. The hockey skates for rent don't look like much, with all the fashion sense of blades strapped onto bowling shoes.

The Bay area's oldest rink, Sunblades, is open for public skating in Clearwater too.

Ice Sports Forum, 10222 Elizabeth Place, Brandon (813-684-7825); J.P. Igloo, 5309 29th St. E., Ellenton (941-723-3663); Sunblades Ice Arena, 13940 Icot Blvd., Clearwater (727-536-5843); Tampa Bay Skating Academy, 255 Forest Lakes Blvd. N., Oldsmar (813-854-4010).

—Francis X. Gilpin

Scenic Sleepover: Oak Haven River Retreat

Scenic. Now there's an oft-abused adjective. However, when employed in the description of Oak Haven River Retreat, scenic is truthful and apt. On a point of land surrounded on three sides by prime Hillsborough River, sits Neil Mingledorff's Oak Haven River Retreat. No, it does not sit; it stands, proudly.

And when he talks about it, the former water conservation coordinator for Hillsborough County sort of beams. Mingledorff's love of the river is infectious. He bought the fish camp, which dates back to the 1950s, more than a year ago. After running rentals on a reservation-only basis, this past January he began operating the retreat full time.

Translation: Mingledorff gets to spend his days on the Hillsborough River. You don't. But you can rent boats and cottages, and picnic in the pavilion.

He fell in love with the place back in the fish camp days. When he didn't feel like hauling his canoe, he'd rent one at the camp. Back then, 90 percent of the clientele was fishermen, 10 percent canoeists. Now the stink of fish is nowhere to be smelled. Mingledorff has turned the place into just what the name says: A haven.

Lovers, families and friends alike can rent the Osprey or the Blue Heron, two fully loaded cottages with scenic — there's that word again — views of the Hillsborough River in all its wending glory. Through moss-draped oaks and stately cypress trees baring their knees — Victorians, take note — lucky visitors might see the cottage's namesakes, plus egrets, ibis, maybe even an alligator if you're patient.

Don't know about you, but when I think of retreats, I think of rustic settings. However, Oak Haven minces these presumptions because it is within minutes of Fowler Avenue, yet still only a mile paddle from Lettuce Lake and the 16,000-acre Hillsborough County Wilderness Park.

Located at 12143 Riverhills Drive, Tampa. Cottage rental rates start at $89 double occupancy per night for the Osprey and $109 for the Blue Heron. Canoe and kayak rental rates are $10 per hour, $26 for four hours and $38 for the entire day. Rates and availability subject to change Open Wednesday through Sunday 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Call 813-988-4580 or e-mail oakhavenrr@aol.com for reservations and info.

—David Jasper

Fat City, Baby: Parkesdale Farms

Question!

Is everyone in Plant City fat?

Answer: Yes. Fantastically fat, wonderfully weighty, heavenly hefty. I would be too if I lived there. Two days after I first drove the 25 miles from Tampa to Parkesdale Farms, I went back. No lie. I couldn't help myself. My return wasn't because I was drawn to the plants and flowers in the large greenhouse, nor was it due to the miles of produce aisles. It wasn't even because of the famous strawberry shortcake, which sadly is served during strawberry season solamente.

No, it was the shake, available year-round. Strawberry, the only flavor they serve. Me, I'm a chocolate man. So when I arrived, I was all, "Aw, man, they only serve strawberry?"

And then that cold, milky, $1 shake hit my throat, and for the first time in months, all of my taste buds felt alive. They were dancing. Not just ordinary, run-of-the-mill taste bud dancing. These buds were booty dancing. They were all, hell yeeeeah, boiiiiiy!

I have seen the future of my shake drinking, and it is Parkesdale's strawberry shake. Getting all "Plant City" (e.g., fat) on those babies is now my stomach's manifest destiny.

Now I'll tell you the truth, reader. Long as we're being politically incorrect, which is what calling everyone in Plant City "fat" is, since really they're "portly." Worse and far more insidious than the corporatization of this alternative newspaper has been the feminization of it. Now, I'm not positive, but that may be because of all the women in the editorial department of your favorite newspaper. Sure, the nonstop chatter and male interns are great, but not coincidentally, gone are the skateboarding, wakeboarding, skimboarding-type Summer Guide items (which I could write in my sleep, but we won't talk about it since it might make me sleepy) of Summer Guides past. Now Summer Guide is nothing but champagne-and-croquette garden parties and cooking classes, the latter of which I was supposed to write about. The only thing I know how to cook is crack rock (kiddin', ma). So I knew what I had to do once I tasted that sweet pink shake, which is, again, only $1, which makes up for the fact that you have to drive to Plant City for it, but doesn't quite make up for the fact that I have probably insulted the corporeal — I mean, corporate — raiders, not to mention the lovely, mallet-wielding ladies of my department. But it has been worth it, reader, to bring you the truth about fresh, cold strawberry shakes: They're yummy. Just the thing to serve when you are throwing a garden party for your bosses and coworkers, who I might add look wonderful holding a croquette mallet. Please set it down gently.

Parkesdale Farms Market is located at 3702 W. U.S. 92, in fabulously fat-ass Plant City. Call 813-754-2704.

—David Jasper

Tone Up: Pilates Exercise

Do not be alarmed by the medieval-looking contraptions situated in the Movement in Motion Pilates studio. Festooned with straps and stirrups and springs, the machines are nevertheless not there to administer pain. They are there to do you good (although a bit of incidental pain, the good sort, may result when exercising with them).

Pilates (Puh-LAH-teez) is an exercise discipline designed to build sleek, toned bodies. It's been the secret weapon of professional dancers for decades. It's been called "active yoga" and has enjoyed a higher profile in recent years, thanks to the interest of glamorous stars like Madonna, Sharon Stone and Uma Thurman.

The device was developed by German physical therapist Joseph Pilates (1880-1967), who found that he could speed the rehabilitation of injured World War I vets by rigging their beds with springs to create resistance for exercise. He opened an American studio in 1926 and counted Martha Graham and George Balanchine among his devotees.

Pilates works an area called the "powerhouse," the lower back, abdominals, inner and outer thighs and buttocks. The exercises — there are some 500 of them — emphasize controlled, stabilizing movements that do not exhaust the muscle. Hence, you do not do a lot of reps — five to 10 is the norm.

Movement in Motion owner Linda McNamar and her two fellow Pilates instructors offer private workouts as well as mat classes on Thursday nights. McNamar is energetic but calming as she painstakingly demonstrates and guides you through a Pilates program (which lasts about an hour). You'll never hear her exhort, "C'mon, you wuss, one more rep!" She will intone, "Dowwwwn, now uuuup, breaaathe, goooood."

Pilates exercises are not what you'd call grueling, although they'll elicit a sweat. More difficulty lies in learning the often involved movements, constantly keeping abdominal muscles flexed, and remembering to breathe.

Pilates promises you'll feel better in 10 sessions, look better in 20 and sport a new body in 30. But, McNamar cautions, it's important to make sure instructors are qualified. A recent lawsuit denied the Pilates trademark, so now anyone can set up a studio. McNamar and her associates have 600 hours of training under their belts, followed by years in the profession. Ask potential instructors about their experience and training.

Movement in Motion is at 1833 Dr. M.L. King St., St. Petersburg. 727-822-4722. The official Pilates Web site is www.pilates-studio.com.

—Eric Snider

Paved Paradise: Pinellas Trail

Walking, hiking or biking the Pinellas Trail can be an overwhelming experience, once you get to know its history. Highlanders from Dunedin blazed a path to the Pasadena area in 1901 in an early incarnation of the annual Highland Games. Connor McLeod won that first year. In subsequent years Huns from Largo improved on the path by lining it with the skeletal remains of their victims from raids, but that business all ended around the time the U.S. Army stepped in and began running World War II military exercises along the corridor, chiefly for target practice and tank exercises.

All right, I'm a liar. But not, it is important to note, a big, fat one. I am a skinny liar, as I have exercised on the venerable Pinellas Trail. According to the Pinellas Trail Web site (www.co.pinellas.fl.us/bcc/trailgd/trailgd.htm) the trail's relatively inchoate origins really go back to 1983, when a Pinellas County man, whose child was killed while bicycling, helped form a bicycling advisory committee in order to help find safer havens for riders. According to the site, Pinellas County meanwhile had a problem of its own round about the same time: an almost 50-mile stretch of abandoned CSX railroad right-of-way.

Can you say, match made in heaven?

According to the official trail Web site, "With the passage of the first Penny for Pinellas one-cent local option sales tax, plans were put into motion to connect the County, from north to south, with a continuous Trail."

Nowadays, bicyclists, fruit booters, razor scooterers, joggers and the ultimate in low-tech, pedestrians, make their way up and down the asphalt trail, which stretches from the southern tip at 34th Street to Tarpon Springs, with entry points along the way. And unlike some homeowners, the most xenophobic people on Earth, had feared, they haven't brought any significant rise in the crime rates unless you consider exposed flesh criminal, you li'l Victorian, you.

Make sure you slather the sunscreen on liberally, as portions of the trail are blatantly sunny, and sunburn hurts almost as much as road rash.

There are plenty of amenities along the trail, from the cutesy eateries of Tarpon to various parks. When straying from the trail, to say, use the restrooms at Citgo or Texaco, use the sense you always use when navigating traffic in your car — unless you are a cell-phone gabber, in which case you might want to use a little more sense than usual.

For more information, visit www.co.pinellas.fl.us/bcc/trailgd/trailgd.htm, or call Pinellas Trail Rangers at 727-549-6099.

—David Jasper

Sculpt, Slip, Score! Pottery Sculpting

"Shit happens with clay," so says Mandy Greer, local sculptor and instructor at the Artist's Creative Center. She ain't just whistling Dixie. You haven't known disappointment until your pottery masterpiece dries out and breaks in three different places. C'est la vie. Such is the nature of creating, lesson numero uno in Greer's open-ended sculpting classes.

During the first session, after an overview of sculpting terms and tools, I was given a huge chunk of clay and my first assignment: to create a rattle. Um … OK. What kind of rattle? "Any kind you want," retorted Greer, and illustrated by showing me a selection of her own creations, cool rattles in shapes like fish and a drumstick, full of interesting texture and color. So I lopped off a hunk of clay and began kneading for at least 30 minutes before I settled on a simple, tambourine-shape rattle. Yeah, simple enough to take up the entire two-and-a-half-hour class, without finishing it. Only after stepping away from the table at evening's end did I notice, "Oh my God! My back and neck are killing me!" And not from the actual sculpting itself, which can take a toll on your wrists and fingers if they're not used to the workout, but because I had allowed my stress level to escalate through sheer concentration.

Needless to say, I was bummed. But under my instructor's expert tutelage, my anal-retentiveness eased a teensy bit more with each class. Greer made me realize there's no wrong in sculpting. She encourages her students to explore, experiment and stretch the boundaries of clay, and before I knew it, my pinch pots (round balls of clay, gradually pinched upward from inside to create a vessel) showed signs of character. Greer's suggestion of patina made my coffee cup come to life, and I actually mixed two different color glazes for my saki glass. Check me out! By deadline time I had moved on to compound pinch pots and, under Greer's care, I'm proud to announce my larger vessels are showing signs of personality. In a nice, slightly anal-retentive way.

Pottery sculpting costs $65 (plus materials) per four-class session. Greer, educated at Oxford and in Italy, came to Tampa from Seattle, where she taught at the University of Washington. Artist's Creative Center's at 6205 Park Blvd., Pinellas Park. The center also offers classes in watercolor painting, Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain and more. Call 727-546-6488.

—Kelli K

Going Down: Scuba Diving

First, get your diving certification before you go on vacation. You're likely to live longer. The dive shops located in the Keys and other resort areas often promise to get you certified in a day or two, which is like trying to do brain surgery with a correspondence course. There are numerous local dive shops with years of experience. Your life could depend on the quality of instruction, so check out a few. One that's high on our list is Bill Jackson's, the venerable outdoor store in Pinellas Park. The dive classes there include eight sessions over four weeks plus weekend dives. Jackson's has its own pool. Diving isn't the cheapest pastime around. The cost for classes, with open water dives, is about $250. The basic equipment, without a tank (it's easier to rent them), will tally up to about $500-$600.

Bill Jackson's is at 9501 U.S. 19 N., Pinellas Park. It's open 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Monday-Friday, 9:30 a.m.-6 p.m. Saturday and 11 a.m.-5 p.m. Sunday. Call 727-576-4169.

—John F. Sugg

Get Bendy: Yoga Class

There are lots of different ways to do yoga and many different disciplines — physical (hatha), meditation, power. The purpose of all these paths, with the exception of the intense, trendy "power" variety, is to stretch, strengthen and rela-a-ax those troubles away, to develop the body, mind and spirit as one unit. If it's hard for you to twinkle your third eye in your cluttered living room or at a fluorescent-lighted health club, have we got a place for you.

Just south of Busch Gardens' tourist screams and animal smell lies TreeHouse Yoga. Maggie McClain, a tan, white-haired and very flexible Catherine O'Hara lookalike, has been inviting students into her home since 1991. The TreeHouse lies on a particularly verdant crook of the Hillsborough River, and comprises two yoga teaching spaces, one room for yoga therapy and healing, an office and a lovely garden. McClain and her fellow teachers — about a dozen of them — take turns instructing classes in Yoga Basics, Flowing Yoga, Gentle Restorative Yoga and even Tai Chi. There are free courses in Essential Spirituality and the ancient technique of Vipassana Meditation, among other things. The classes are small, so the instructors can give you the attention you need (this stuff isn't easy, you know). The best thing about the TreeHouse schedule is that there are two to five classes every day, so chances are there's a time that's convenient for you.

TreeHouse Yoga holds classes seven days a week: two classes each on Mondays and Fridays, one class on Saturdays and three to five classes on other days. The drop-in rate is $13 per class ($10 for Seniors), and other prices vary based on how many classes you plan to take per week or over a six-month period. Call 813-932-5456 or visit www.fifiys.com for further information.

—Stefanie Kalem

Hey! You Talkin' to Me? Self-defense Class

"Hey man, how you doin'?" the man says to me. "You live around here?"

"I'm just going over there," I answer, gesturing across the room with my Nerf stick, looking at the mat, looking like a wimp.

"You got any money?" he says, louder. "What, you can't look at me?" At least I think that's what he's saying. By now, I'm edgy. The adrenaline is rushing, just as Hector Noyas, my accoster, warned it would. We're role-playing, Noyas and I. Once he pulls the knife — a real metal blade — I'm supposed to whack his hand three times, but only in a downward motion.

Noyas is the proud owner of Self Defense America, and his roots in Combat Hapkido and Tae Kwon Do stretch back 30 years. He is also a firefighter and police officer — an arson investigator with full arrest power. The law credentials and martial arts ability combine to make him a sort-of superhero; his martial arts skills have helped him disarm a guy wielding a screwdriver sharpened into a shank.

The cop's got chops. When he "plays" the role of an aggressor, he truly knows what he's doing. And when knife-wielding he lunges after Nerf-wielding me; it's really no contest. I back up. I'm a little off-balance, swinging the Nerf club with no conviction, no leverage, no gift for self-preservation. I step out of the arena and meekly ask his adult class, the witnesses to my sorry display: "I got one (hit) left?"

As easy prey goes, it turns out I'm an Oscar-worthy method actor. Oh well, at least the students have something to compare themselves to.

In addition to straight-up martial arts, Self Defense America offers Cardio Karate as well as corporate self-defense classes for professional victims. Students range in age from prepubescents to upwards of age 70. Through Baywinds Learning Centres, he offers a one-day self-defense course for women. Rather than go into all the details of his martial arts instruction, Noyas seeks in that class to give those pupils a quick dose of adrenaline —much as he did to me — and show them how to use it to their advantage. I hope they fare better than I did. Don't worry about me, though; the stitches are temporary.

Self Defense America is a full martial arts facility located on the premises of the Noyas family home near Dale Mabry and Busch Boulevard. Call 813-935-1800 or visit www.noyas.com. For the Self Defense for Women class, call Baywinds at 813-977-0996.

—David Jasper

Birds of Summer: Singing Lessons

You know all those aphorisms about riding around with the windows down during the summer months, singing along with the radio? Well, what happens at red lights? What happens if you get caught unawares, and the person in the car next to you lets you know in no uncertain terms that you couldn't carry a tune in a glue-lined bucket with the handle duct-taped to your hands?

Well hell, pal, almost everyone can sing. But not everybody knows how. And for a measly $35 an hour — the going rate for singing lessons in the Tampa Bay area — a trained professional will teach you how to use what your maker gave ya. It's amazing, really; the throat you use to swallow, the nose you use to smell, the jaw you chew with, the diaphragm you use to prevent unwanted pregnan — OK, maybe not that one. But all this stuff, used properly, combines to direct the breath in such a way to create sonic pleasure. And a number of teachers in the area, from former Broadway performers to trained opera singers, are ready to show you how to put it all together.

For my voice lesson, I visited Betty Jane "BJ" Watson, a former star of the Broadway stage whose career included stints as Laurie in Oklahoma! alongside Howard Keel and John Raitt. In her photo-lined music room, we sang scales and show tunes, discussed music and life. Sure, it's weird to say "Ee-ee-ee-ee-ee-ee!!" over and over again with a stranger, but all in all, it was a pleasant, air-conditioned way to spend a summer afternoon. And great preparation for one of my favorite hobbies, no matter what the season — karaoke, baby.

A number of voice teachers advertise in the Weekly Planet, and even more in the phone book, under "Musical Instruction — Vocal." Betty Jane Watson teaches out of her Carrollwood home. Call 813-935-8011.

—Stefanie Kalem

Kinky Ink: Get a Tattoo

Ladies, does the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue have you down? Or how about you guys … are you dreading the beach this summer because you're afraid of getting sand kicked in your face by a bronzed, grinning army of buffer-than-thou, Russell Crowe types? Or do you have to buy your sunbathing gear by the yard? Who the freak cares??!! The late 20th/early 21st century, Western concept of physical beauty is just that: an unrealizable, regional and time-sensitive sham. If you really want to augment your appearance this summer, do so in a timeless way — get inked. All over the world, for eons, men and women have been getting tattooed to honor a million occasions, from wars to weddings. In ancient Tahiti, tattoos were a symbol of a young girl's passing into sexual maturity. As far back as 10,000 BC, Japanese fishermen marked their bodies to protect them from large fish. And in the early years of the 20th century, a Brazilian outlaw boss known as "The Don Man" kept a stable of child tattoo artists — most under the age of 12 — and the prostitutes in his employ had the initials of their lovers inscribed on their left breasts. When the relationship soured, they would mark the same initials on their feet, so they could tread on them for the rest of their lives.

Of course it hurts, but it's a very special kind of discomfort. It's the pain of knowing that someone is putting a permanent (well, as permanent as you're willing to allow it to be) design on your skin that you've chosen or even created yourself. It's a toughening ache, much like those aforementioned wars and weddings — the best way to get through it is to smile wide. Sure, you can't go in the pool or the ocean for two weeks after, and you have to shield your new tat(s) from the sun for just as long (covering them completely or using at least #25 sunblock). But you'll have a permanent accessory to wear to the beach this summer, one that says "I'm an imaginative badass, in touch my ancient, global ancestry" instead of "I've been eating a meal-and-a-half a day and waking up every morning in a pool of angry sweat on the treadmill for five months."

This imaginative badass went to Blue Devil Tattoo Gallery for her first ink, and they were remarkably friendly considering her advanced age, and the very high sissy-meter rating of her chosen design. Blue Devil is at 1717 E. Seventh Ave., Ybor City. Call 813-241-OUCH. Information for this article was gathered from resources at www.tattoo.com.

—Stefanie Kalem

Improve Your Mind: Take a Class

Everyone knows the best place to be in Florida during summer months is inside. You could park your sorry butt in front of the television with a bag of chips for the next three months and come out the other side with an encyclopedic knowledge of game show rules. Or you could meet people who are engaged in life and maybe brush up your Spanish or write your memoirs for way less than your cable bill. Costs for classes at Hillsborough Community College range from $5 (for moonlight walk on the beach with biologists to study wildlife) to $295 for English horseback riding. Other classes include doggie manners, piano, dance, antiques, genealogy, interior design, tai chi, fiction writing and wine appreciation. Classes are taught by people in the community who have expertise in the subject. HCC also offers learning vacations for adults to Indonesia, Greece, Ireland, Peru, Israel, Turkey, Spain, China and other places. Itineraries are planned to give you insights into cultural, historic and natural aspects of the destinations.

Classes are held at campuses in Brandon, Plant City, Ybor City and Tampa as well as at various community sites throughout the county. For a catalogue of classes with costs, times, dates and locations, call 813-253-7980.

—Susan Edwards

Heavenly View: Spinners Revolving Rooftop Lounge

A very nice, very Catholic relative from upstate Nova Iorque, perhaps in an attempt to be "down" with the town, refers to St. Petersburg by the abbreviation "St. Pete's." I think the church her family goes to at home is named St. Peter's, and because things have gotten so lax in the church or because my kinfolk knows her religion and its myriad saints so well, she sometimes refers to the family place of worship in its shortened familiar: St. Pete's.

I never corrected her. That would have been rude. I'd rather write about it for my fellow Tampa Bay residents so we can all have a chuckle at her expense.

For the record, the city is called St. Petersburg. It's St. Pete's town, not ours, and therefore it must be called by its proper nickname: "St. Pete." No apostrophe, and no "s," except for the one in St.

St. Pete Beach is also his beach. If you would like to see the view of St. Pete's beach from a vantage point like the one those heavenly clouds afford him, head on down to Spinners Revolving Rooftop Lounge, an aptly named establishment on the 14th floor of a Holiday Inn.

On the day I visited the establishment, the kitchen help screwed up a simple grouper sandwich, and it took approximately an hour for it to arrive. The waitress apologized profusely, but I waved her away. I did not complain. Why? Because I was drunk (long story). Trying to be soothing, she said, "It takes awhile. I guess that's why they give us this view."

And, oh, what a view it is. As the restaurant slowly spins — slow enough that this drunkard did not lose his lunch, even after it finally arrived — you see the south view of the beach. You see the Gulf of Mexico. You see the north view of the beach. You do not see London. You do not see France. However, you do see what look like underpants, which upon closer inspection (e.g. zoom lens) turn out to be bikinis. Once you notice the nubile (and not so nubile) flesh, the view of the sky and water become secondary, merely pretty backdrops to the show.

In my unsober, nearly starving state, I had a most fantastic experience. St. Peter himself came and sat next to me. He was wearing a white bathrobe and he said, "Lookit those cretins," gesturing down at a trio of jockular guys sitting in each others' laps astride a Jet Ski.

"I'll be seeing them soon," he said.

I replied, "Um, I'm just waiting for my grouper sandwich." And he said, "Don't be in such a hurry; it'll be here soon enough." I wasn't sure we were still talking about the sandwich, but then it arrived. St. Peter got up to work the room. "See ya, St. Pete," I said, and he glared at me, and I thought, whoa, enough with the nicknames.

Spinners Revolving Rooftop Lounge is located at 5250 Gulf Blvd., St. Pete Beach. Call 727-360-1811.

—David Jasper

Be a Friend: Hang Out With Special People

There are a lot of reasons to volunteer, from padding your resume to padding your spirit. Volunteering with developmentally disabled adults is incredibly appropriate come summer, as these folks can help you get in touch with an innocence and playfulness you may have thought was gone.

In the Tampa Bay area, there are horseback riding programs, art classes, bowling leagues, work centers and much more, all serving adults with a wide range of ability. The largest organizations are the Associations for Retarded Citizens: HARC in Tampa, PARC in St. Petersburg, and UPARC in Clearwater.

The Hillsborough Association for Retarded Citizens is the smallest, serving approximately 300 adults (including senior citizens, and with hundreds more on waiting lists for service) via five residential group homes, two day programs (one in Tampa and one in Riverview) and an East Tampa workshop. According to HARC business manager Hector Salgado, the association's day programs need the most volunteers, with retired teachers strongly desired. All volunteers are fingerprinted and rigorously screened. HARC's workshop, Tampa Work Services, affords an opportunity for retarded citizens to earn paychecks while learning job skills. Volunteers and clients work together on light assembly, packing and bulk mail appropriation projects.

The Pinellas Association serves over 500 clients, including children. It's the job of Elliott Rakofsky, PARC's manager of volunteer services, to match people's interests with the needs of the organization. (PARC also has a rigorous screening process and requires references.) Whether you're a high school student or a homemaker, Rakofsky has a gig for you. Activities include assisting teachers in the pre-K, working with adults in PARC's workshop, staffing the resale store and performing clerical and IT work. There are also short-term volunteer opportunities staffing special events — like the Tampa Bay Blues Festival — that raise funds for PARC. In October, says Rakofsky, he'll be needing volunteers for the American Powerboat Association's Hurricane Offshore Classic. "It's so much fun to volunteer for PARC," he says. "I try very carefully to make that match so that the individual has a good experience when they're done volunteering, whether it be short-term, or whether it be a year or five years."

HARC's main foundation office is located in downtown Tampa, at 220 E. Madison St., Suite 1040. Their number is 813-273-6364, and the association's Web site is www.hillsarc.com. You can also call Tampa Work Services at 813-663-9555 for a free estimate on services offered. PARC is located in St. Pete, at 3190 Tyrone Blvd. N. Their number is 727-345-9111. The Upper Pinellas Association for Retarded Citizens is in Clearwater, 1501 N. Belcher Road. Call them at 727-799-3330.

—Stefanie Kalem

Stellar Idea: MOSI's Skywatch

A: "Hey. Nice sunglasses. What do you want to do tonight?"

B: "Thanks. I don't know, yo. Does my hair look OK?

A: "Needs a little more Dippity-do right over here. Here, let me."

B: "Thanks."

A: "Want to go to Ybor? We could — "

B: "No!"

A: "I'm just saying."

B: "Ybor is old hat, bro. I own that place. You know what we should do? Rent a limo and cruise to Orlando. Them O-town girls are down for the bootknock, B."

A: "Huh? I thought you were "B.'"

B: "I meant "B' as in "B-Boy.'"

A: "Oh. Sorry."

B: "Look, an ant. I think I'll step on it."

These friggin' cool guys have obviously lost perspective on how insignificant and meaningless their little lives are. They are suffering from the early stages of what medical field workers call "douchebagareiasis," and the only known cure for it is a large dose of humility.

An evening of looking at the stars is just what the doctor ordered. They'll be empathizing with ants in no time. Once they figure out where Temple Terrace is, they can enjoy a stellar view through SkyWatch, the Museum of Science and Industry's Saturday evening stargazing program.

Just after sunset, telescopes are set up outside the museum, and according to MOSI Flight and Space Director Al Peche, the summer sky is not without its merits. "Mars is going to be coming back around this summer," he says, "and we have the wonderful summer sky of stuff like the constellations of Scorpius and Sagittarius. That whole region of the sky points toward the center of our galaxy, so we like looking at stuff in that area."

Weekends closest to the first quarter phase are great times for viewing the moon through a telescope. "It's a real crowd pleaser," says Peche.

Peche has hosted the weekend gatherings since 1992, when MOSI's planetarium opened. Ambient city light affects viewing, so the only view of the Milky Way we have here is through the glass of vending machines. "But that's the nature of being in the city," he says. "The plus is, it really lets us show people what to see, without confusing them with a bunch of background stars."

Peche and his peeps are out peeping till after the last IMAX screening of the night, and stick around till the stargazers go home.

"This north Tampa area, at least around where the museum is, isn't a hopping night spot area," Peche says with a laugh. However, some crazies have hung around till as late as 11 p.m. Good thing everyone can sleep it off Sunday morning.

SkyWatch is free and takes place every Saturday, weather permitting, beginning at sunset. MOSI is located at 4801 E. Fowler Ave., Tampa. Call 813-987-6300.

—David Jasper

Weekend Rehab: Flatwoods Park

Nothing cures a hangover like exercise and a copious sweat in the Florida outdoors. You not only get your circulation jostled but you evacuate the yucky toxins imbibed the night, um, morning before.

If you're going to steam-clean your system, we suggest you do it in the oh-so-purdy outdoors. One place that has beauty, navigability and little critters to gawk at is Flatwoods Park. Its trails are a mix of paved, single track, and double-track paths near the Hillsborough River. Among the tall pines and oak trees, sight lines may include appearances by armadillos, bobcats, coyote, Eastern indigo snakes, egrets, owls, osprey, woodpeckers, red foxes, squirrels, wild pigs, gopher frogs and Florida mice. (When my pals and I went, we saw two butterflies chasing each other — wee!)

Rehydration — important after tying one on — is possible if you're too out of it to remember a bottle of water. Drinking fountains and restrooms can be found periodically on the 10-plus-mile paved loop.

Along with the pine-scented air, another refreshing aspect of Flatwoods environs is viewing pretty wildflowers that line the trails. We saw dogwood, magnolia and lantana.

Flatwoods, renowned for its biking and inline-skating trails, is also a nice place to hoof it as well. We recommend taking one of several unpaved trails. We took "Squiggy" (where Lenny was, I know not yet). Squiggy was draped in a tunnel of oak branches and led to a gorgeous cypress swamp that was quiet and cool.

So next time you consider a greasy breakfast or the hair of the dog that bit ya, put on your crumpled shorts and head over to Flatwoods.

Flatwoods Park can be accessed at 14302 Morris Bridge Road, Thonotasassa, or take I-75 north to the Bruce B. Downs Boulevard exit. Head East on Bruce B. Downs and within a half-mile, a modest parking area will appear on the south side of the road. The park is open daily from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. Call 813-987-6211.

—Julie Garisto

A Natural High: Find the Flash of Green

Watch the sun set? How original, you say. But have you, ya know, really seen it?

You've looked at the panoramic painting in the sky and thought "How lovely." You may have reached over and given your significant other a feel-good hug. But have you really watched the sun set, sat for 15 or 20 minutes and studied the colors as they shape-shift and mutate? Have you witnessed the quiet drama of the sun descending on the horizon, flattening out, then slowly vanishing? Then there's the afterglow, with its own charms.

(Disclaimer: We, the responsible folks at the Planet, do not advocate training your eyes on the sun for an hour as it sinks. Hell, that just isn't healthy.)

Truly immersing yourself in a sunset can be therapeutic, life-affirming, Zen-like. It's best done at the beach because, well, it's the beach, and because you get the clearest view. We recommend the back deck of Crabby Bill's on St. Pete Beach, pint in hand optional.

And the beach is where you're most apt to catch The Green Flash. Heard of it? Just as the sun disappears, when conditions are perfect, you might see a fleeting hint of green. It's a rare and beautiful thing. There's a scientific explanation for The Green Flash — having to do with light refraction and prisms and bending light — but we prefer to look at the phenomenon as something more cosmic. Catching it is a magical moment.

This summer, don't rely on hollow platitudes: "My, we do have some beautiful sunsets around here." Study, concentrate. Experience them.

—Eric Snider

Free Cookies! Atheists of Florida Meeting

The fellow who's been setting up an assortment of decaf and caf coffee, donut holes and cookies, finally turns to the small group sitting around tables discussing politics and religion and tells them the snacks are ready, "for us nice, peaceful humanists and you angry atheists."

Free cookies? Don't know about you, but I'd give up belief in everything, including God and country, for free cookies. And these are free chocolate chip cookies.

I'm all set to gorge myself on junk, but none of the troops are ready to join me.

"Angry atheists," Ed Golly repeats, skeptically, maybe a little embarrassed by the label. Golly seems more indignant than angry at the nerve of a group of state lawmakers trying to push through legislation that would allow school prayer, the main topic of today's meeting. Golly's leadership is shared with the President of Atheists of Florida Inc., Nan Owens.

It's gonna be a while before I can make a move for the snacks.

If you want to get out of the elements on a Saturday afternoon, but the prospect of passively imbibing another bad Hollywood movie (not to mention the price of the snacks) depresses you, you might want to consider doing something to help these Godless Atheists fight to preserve your given rights as an American — to keep tall the wall between church and state. Atheists of Florida's calls to political action are steeped in a firm belief in keeping religion out of government and schools. To that end, one Saturday per month, the group meets at Clearwater's East Branch Library; one Wednesday night per month a larger group meets at the Jan Platt Library in south Tampa.

On this occasion the group, which swells from six to more than a dozen by meeting's end, is composing a letter criticizing the proposed school prayer bill. Fortunately, there is a short break before the letter-writing starts.

In other words: Cookie and donut hole time. I tell myself godspeed as I head for the table.

The cookies are good, the respite from battling the religious right and its superstition all too brief. The letter-writing awaits.

Join the fun! Subvert proselytizing redneck politicians! Eat free snacks! Meetings take place the last Saturday of each month, except October, from noon to 1:30 p.m. at Clearwater East Branch Library at 2251 Drew St. On the third Wednesday of each month, Atheists of Florida congregate at Jan Platt Regional Library, 3910 S. Manhattan Ave., Tampa. For more info, visit http://www.atheistalliance.org/florida/ or e-mail athalfle@aol.com.

— David Jasper

Pussy Galore: Attend a Cat Show

Picture the zaniness and camp of Christopher Guest's homage to canine competitions, Best in Show, but without the luxurious hotel and snazzy commentator. Instead imagine a fluorescent-lighted auditorium peopled by large women in Kathie Lee short sets and cheerful men wearing ill-fitting Dockers, serving sugar cookies and Kool-Aid punch. Then imagine a fun theme to predominate what is already a hokey event, like "kitty luau" (the one I attended) and you have your typical cat show.

Lining the aisles of the event were ribbon-adorned cages with very doped-up prisoners. It seemed the more smooshed in, fuzzy and distorted the cat looked, the higher the ranking it got. Whatever you do, don't ask the owners if they dope the cats. A member of my party asked this question quite point blank and was not treated with the warmest regard. The offended pet owner failed to see the irony that the questioner was the one most likely to have partaken of some "cat nip" before the event.

Be sure to catch the cute demos. We saw kitties run up papier-mache palm trees as a test of agility.

Some official stuff about cat shows, like the Cat Fanciers Association ones: "Individual shows can be classified as either allbreed or specialty. In an allbreed show all cats, regardless of coat length or type, compete for various awards. In a specialty show only those cats of similar coat length (or type) compete for awards" (from the Cat Fanciers' Web site).

We liked the overpriced toy kiosks. At one we bought, for $3, five pastel-colored plastic jacks with a label boasting a white Persian donning a poorly computer-rendered eye-patch and Captain Hook hat, sitting next to a treasure chest. The title: Assorted Treasures. Its slogan: "Safe and Fun Toys for Your Kitty!"

Who or what product-tests Assorted Treasures?

Probably the folks who painstakingly engrave driftwood plaques with such witticisms as "Cat lovers go to heaven." You can find those too at your typical cat show. Also available is a bevy of scratching posts, fancy electric litter-removal machines (isn't that a song by The Cult?) fuzzy mice and enough nip toys to make Fifi think she's died and gone to Amsterdam.

The next, nearest-by Cat Fanciers Association show to hit our area will be the Platinum Coast Cat Fanciers show at Harborside Convention Center on July 21 and 22, 1375 Monroe St., Fort Myers. Adults pay $5; seniors, $4; children younger than 12, $4. Show hours are 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Visit www.cfainc.org/shows/show-schedule.html.

—Julie Garisto

Haggle for Bargains: Pawn Shopping

For most baby-boomers growing up, pawn shops were slightly above whorehouses and opium dens on the decadence scale. Over the years, they have gained a measure of, if not respectability, at least legitimacy. (This became abundantly clear to the writer when his preteen son announced that he'd sold an outdated video game at a pawn shop. The son was not told to promptly bathe and spend the next three weeks in his room, which is what would've happened to the dad.)

Nowadays, pawn shops can be fun — not so much if you have to sell your microwave to help pay the rent — but if you can go with a few bucks in your pocket, looking for bargains, some spirited negotiations and a bit of low-brow Americana.

Nebraska Avenue is Tampa's pawn shop row. You can find 'em roomy and clean like Cash America or cramped and dank like Quick Cash, where you wait for the management to buzz you in, and then peruse a few counters of intermingled stock: jewelry (including an entire set of plastic rings), knickknacks and other random items. On a spring afternoon, Quick Cash separated its for-sale merchandise from its recently pawned, not-for-sale stuff by haphazardly laying down a gauntlet of old bicycles.

Pawn shops are good places to go if you want to buy used power tools (and, really, who needs new ones); not so good it you're looking for tasteful jewelry. At Value Pawn on the same spring afternoon, you could've bought a 10-karat gold pendant shaped like a machine gun for $99. A charming huckster named Anthony may have tried to sell you flashy tires and rims after noticing that they'd fit your car ("$500 for the set; it'd be thousands new").

And then there's the real fun. Mess with the pawn shop folks a bit. Try this: Take in a colorful poster of a guitar by pop artist Peter Max (autographed "To Susan"), approach the buyer excitedly, unfurl it with great flair, and stand beaming as you say, "Isn't that breathtaking?"

Produce a receipt that says it's worth $300. Call it a "certificate of authenticity." When he asks you how much you want for it, say, "It pains me to do this, but I'll take 300 for it." Enjoy his quizzical look. Watch as he vigorously shakes his head. Then you say, still beaming at the poster, "OK, I must be crazy, but I'll take a hundred." Watch again as he vigorously shakes his head, then walks away muttering, "Sorry sir, I'm not interested."

Or there may be a guy at a shop a couple blocks up who tells you, simply, "I'm sorry sir, I wouldn't give you three dollars of store money for that," then walks away muttering under his breath.

Now that's entertainment.

Value Pawn and Jewelry, 7702 N. Nebraska Ave., Tampa, 813-237-0339; Quick Cash, 5921 N. Nebraska Ave., Tampa, 813-237-0094.

—Eric Snider

A Transporting Experience: Ride the Bus

Felt some road rage welling up lately? Traffic jams got you down? You could use some karma balancing.

Try taking the bus.

The actual riding of the bus is not as grueling as you might think. Tampa's HARTline vehicles are clean, graffiti-free and nicely air-conditioned; the drivers are helpful and patient; the riders — at least on this early April day — are mostly quiet and well behaved. Not a hint of thuggery to be seen.

But taking the bus is humbling and numbing, and it requires an abundance of patience. Catch the No. 2 at Floribraska and head up Nebraska on an early afternoon. Once up the stairs, you immediately feel helpless. You don't know what to do. How much? Where? The driver tells you the fare — $1.15 — and where to put the money. And, get this: He's very calm about it.

In all, the trip's not too bad. You find a seat. People mostly keep to themselves. The crowd is a mix of working-class folk, school kids, mothers with small children (one who dutifully carries a full laundry basket for his mom).

You're headed for University Mall, so you get off at Fowler at 12:50 p.m. The 7 bus will be by any minute now. Right?

Right?

1:15 p.m.

Any minute.

Right?

You sit on a wooden bench, unprotected from the sun, surrounded by plastic boxes stuffed with free periodicals. You pass the time listening to the street symphony — the groan of truck brakes, squawking gulls mingling by the streetlights, boom-box cars (was that Outkast?) occasional sirens, the whoosh of passing vehicles, each with its own voice. You get a ground's eye view of urban sprawl: McDonald's and Waffle House and a muffler shop across the street.

1:30 p.m. You start to sweat. A half-hour ago, you peeked down Fowler looking for the bus. Now you stand up, rubberneck, check your watch. It's an exercise in futility, like punching elevator buttons over and over, hoping it'll make the doors open quicker. You resort to browsing a real estate shopping guide. And then suddenly there it is, several blocks down, with that benevolent face. The bus.

1:40 p.m. A 50-minute wait.

In minutes, you're at the mall.

On the way back, you've nearly got this public transit thing down. You insert your day pass properly and take a seat. From Fletcher to Floribraska, the bus stops 24 times on Nebraska.

A lunch-pail guy strides on and recognizes another laborer type. "Wazzup?" says one. "Tired," the other replies, and then pauses, "There's got to be a better way."

You privately nod in agreement. He's talking life. You're talking bus. The next time you're behind the wheel and the traffic slows to a crawl, wiggle in your seat, turn up the CD player and take a deep breath. You could be on the bus.

HARTline bus rides cost $1.15 for local; $1.50 express, $2.50 for an all-day local pass. Exact change required. No bills larger than $1. See www.hartline.org for more information.

—Eric Snider

Lookin' for Love: Take Out a Personal Ad

It used to be that personal ads were the absolute pits, the worst way to meet someone. You had to respond by sending self-addressed stamped envelopes to a blind box. It took forever. Technology intervened about a dozen years ago, with voicemail responses. Then came the online dating services. So, if you're looking at a dull summer with no companionship, start polishing your one-paragraph resume. What works? A little mystery, talk about interests. Be honest and don't set up your would-be paramours to be disappointed — e.g., don't call yourself petite if you're 4-feet, 10-inches and weigh 250. Where to place or answer a personal? Go with a publication or Web site that you read. And, since you're reading the Weekly Planet at this very minute, you know that it's the publication for progressive, intelligent, fun-loving people.

—John F. Sugg

This article appears in May 17-24, 2001.