In April, we took a family vacation to Sarasota Florida, on the gulf side, to visit family and attend my cousin’s beachside wedding. The beach was beautiful, despite that there were no waves to surf and that we had several sting ray casualties which encouraged us to spend less time in the ocean and more time in the pool. While we were in Sarasota, the locals emphatically recommended that we visit Siesta Beach. It was a twenty minute drive from where we were staying, and they described it as “the second nicest beach in the United States.”
I tried for five days to convince my family to take the drive to Siesta Beach with me so that we could check out what all the excitement was about but my requests went unanswered and by the last two days I had given up entirely. On the way to the airport on our last day in Florida, the taxi driver told my mom about Siesta Beach and he explained that it was his absolute favorite vacation destination. My mom was searching online with her brand new I-Pad, faster than I could say, “but….” and it wasn’t long before she had booked their (well-deserved) vacation for the week of August 6th-13th. Lol.
They spent seven days in Siesta Beach and loved it there so much that they decided to check out some beach house properties that were for sale in the area (although my father insisted it wasn’t an economically smart decision because they wouldn’t receive a tax break for it.)
Since I was a kid, my mom has talked about her dream to open up a restaurant on the beach somewhere; throughout their seven day excursion I began receiving an influx of text messages about how great it would be to establish her new business endeavor as a gay themed restaurant in Siesta Beach. Here is part of the conversation we had, via text, while they were on their way home from the airport on August 13th.
“Hey wat’s up boo? Leaving airport now.”
“Is there a welcoming party waiting?”
“Hi boo ma… yep we are awaiting your arrival.”
“Oh did you make me a gourmet dinner?”
“That depends, are you hungry??”
(And suddenly I was scrambling around the house trying to throw together a gourmet dinner.)
“Mom-mom spoiled me with a nice homemade dinner awaiting her favorite child!”
“But no, we are all food-ed out. No food. Water, water, water…and maybe a glass of White Zin.”
“Pop me a Zin.”
“That’s it! My restaurant…Leigh-isms with a little Zin!”
“No sounds like a book.”
“Lmao, I love it! Are you hungry though, for real?”
“Hmmm… Zinful or Zinful little Les out of ze closet!
“No, not hungry… no food…just zin, ZIN, zin.”
“Hahahahaha it’s perfect. Lol.”
“Restaurant name…Mom-mom’s Little Lez Zinfuls…
“Keep the ze out…we have to keep it homo-ish with the zin”
“Les Zinfuls…That’s it!!!”
She came bursting through the door several minutes later with a plastic container full of “flamingo poop” and the brand new I-Phone she bought to match her (now five month old) I-Pad. I had her glass of Zin chilled, popped and ready for her and needless to say, she never did eat the linguini with fresh basil and meatballs that I made them. Lol.
She cracks me up. It’s not that I don’t love the idea of a family restaurant on the beach and aimed at the gay community. It sounds like a dream come true actually. I just find it really entertaining that she wants to open up a homo-themed restaurant in one of the most conservative states in America. That and, that she wants to purchase real estate in one of the areas where the housing market was hit the hardest. But I have to wonder, since when has she ever been wrong??? She has incredible instinct and I’m not here to judge…or even to help make those kinds of decisions. I just sit back and enjoy each day I have to spend with me mother. And by enjoy I mean, laugh hysterically.