Monday, January 28, 2002


I Don't Like Mondays

My Monday had a rather horrid start. I'm feeling better at the moment, but I lost what teeny bit of respect I had for a person. Not that I had much for him anyway. I still find it fascinating that a 40-something has no idea how to act like an adult and treat others with respect.

Extraordinarily Large Ducks and "Floatie"

Matt and I visited Rochester this past weekend. Naturally, we didn't get to do nearly as much as we hoped to and certainly did not see everyone we hoped to. There just isn't enough hours in a day for that I guess. Sunday afternoon we got together with Mike and Londa for lunch at Keenan's. Since it was such a beautiful day, we all decided to take a walk along the Irondequoit Bay Pier.

The Bay Pier holds great sentimental value for me. It was the place my friends and I would spend hours on, talking, taunting storms and yelling insults at passing boaters or men fishing on the opposite pier. See, there used to be a bridge across the outlet of the Bay that connected Irondequoit to Webster. In the mid-80's this bridge was taken out much to the chagrin of many. I remember seeing signs of "Bridge It" in many storefront windows, resident's cars and in their house windows. The one positive thing about the bridge removal is the creation of two piers that sheltered the outlet from waves off the lake. A removable bridge was finally put in several years ago. Unfortunately, it's only in place from December 1st until March 31st.

But back to the walking story. Crowds of people emerged from their homes to enjoy the balmy weather and take in some lake air. One strange site was a group of teenage boys who were crawling among the rocks alongside the pier, looking for "caves" to hang out in. I think they were really looking for places to smoke-up in. As we walked back to the shore, Londa spied a large, seemingly dead fish. It was quite large and floating perpindicular to the surface. It's snout was sticking above the surface of the water. I jokingly said that Mike should go poke it with the large stick laying near by. Mike heartedly agreed and proceeded to climb down the rocks to the water. As he picked up the stick, he said, "Hey, I think it's still alive!" Sure enough, the fish was alive, barely. Mike pushed at it with the stick and the fish's fin moved around. He then nudged the fish out further into the outlet thinking maybe this would help it out. No luck. We nicknamed the dying fish "Floatie."

We also paused on the bridge for a bit to watch people feeding the ducks. There were some enormous ducks in the water. I mean, some ducks were twice the size of the other ones. We thought maybe the female was carrying eggs she hadn't laid yet, but that didn't explain the male nearby. The ducks made for great entertainment as we watched them squack and fight for bitty pieces of bread. Fantastic afternoon!

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