"What the heck is that?" is probably a common reaction to this large, rectangular metal panel perched on three round pillars facing the library. The horizontal slab is tilted slightly upward, as if it's a mirror for the library's imposing façade. Or maybe, you might speculate, it's some sort of mysterious receiver for signals from outer space. But no, it's a piece of art -- a fact that becomes evident only if you're in the right place at the right time. The sculpture comes alive with brilliant color when the sunlight hits it just so, creating iridescent patterns that dance across the textured surface as you move past it. The panel is the work of Dale Eldred, who chaired the Sculpture Department at Missouri's Kansas City Art Institute for three decades. Eldred specialized in public art, particularly works that, like this one, explore the relationship between the earth and the sun. He died in the "500-Year Flood" of 1993, when the Missouri River swept through Kansas City, leaving behind a body of works (including this one) that depend upon the context of the urban outdoors for their ephemeral effects.

"What the heck is that?" is probably a common reaction to this large, rectangular metal panel perched on three round pillars facing the library. The horizontal slab is tilted slightly upward, as if it's a mirror for the library's imposing façade. Or maybe, you might speculate, it's some sort of mysterious receiver for signals from outer space. But no, it's a piece of art -- a fact that becomes evident only if you're in the right place at the right time. The sculpture comes alive with brilliant color when the sunlight hits it just so, creating iridescent patterns that dance across the textured surface as you move past it. The panel is the work of Dale Eldred, who chaired the Sculpture Department at Missouri's Kansas City Art Institute for three decades. Eldred specialized in public art, particularly works that, like this one, explore the relationship between the earth and the sun. He died in the "500-Year Flood" of 1993, when the Missouri River swept through Kansas City, leaving behind a body of works (including this one) that depend upon the context of the urban outdoors for their ephemeral effects.

That cranky old architectural genius Frank Lloyd Wright said it best: "No house should ever be on any hill or on anything. It should be of the hill, belonging to it, so hill and house could live together, each the happier for the other." Substitute building for house and you have an apt description of this jewel in the crown of downtown Fort Lauderdale's still-evolving Arts and Science District. The Broward Center for the Performing Arts so thoroughly belongs to the small hill it occupies between the western edge of Riverwalk and the eastern fringe of the historic Sailboat Bend neighborhood that it's hard to imagine it was never there in the first place. The center, designed by Massachusetts-based architect Benjamin Thompson, is a graceful conglomeration of curves and gentle angles that mirrors the meandering landscape below it. Marble, terra cotta, stucco, wood, and glass -- lots of glass -- conspire to create a luxurious complex that includes two auditoriums linked by a courtyard and characterized by spacious lobbies, sweeping staircases, and broad corridors. Now if they would just do something about that casino-style carpet....

That cranky old architectural genius Frank Lloyd Wright said it best: "No house should ever be on any hill or on anything. It should be of the hill, belonging to it, so hill and house could live together, each the happier for the other." Substitute building for house and you have an apt description of this jewel in the crown of downtown Fort Lauderdale's still-evolving Arts and Science District. The Broward Center for the Performing Arts so thoroughly belongs to the small hill it occupies between the western edge of Riverwalk and the eastern fringe of the historic Sailboat Bend neighborhood that it's hard to imagine it was never there in the first place. The center, designed by Massachusetts-based architect Benjamin Thompson, is a graceful conglomeration of curves and gentle angles that mirrors the meandering landscape below it. Marble, terra cotta, stucco, wood, and glass -- lots of glass -- conspire to create a luxurious complex that includes two auditoriums linked by a courtyard and characterized by spacious lobbies, sweeping staircases, and broad corridors. Now if they would just do something about that casino-style carpet....

You curse the devilish traffic and the paucity of open space, but these signs of overcrowding mean money in your pocket the day you sign on the dotted line of a warranty deed. Soaring land values mean money for nothin'. According to a recent Sun-Sentinel article, the median sales price for homes in the Fort Lauderdale area grew by 12 percent compared to last year, a jump from $161,200 to $179,800. The West Palm Beach-Boca Raton area saw a median sales-price increase of 14 percent, from $139,200 to $158,300. Why the upsurge? As Manhattanites learned long ago, when you're surrounded by water, you run out of anywhere to build but upward. New Yorkers built in that direction, but down here, single-family homes with a patch of backyard are all the rage. And you don't have to have a beautiful mind to realize there are only so many lots to go around.

You curse the devilish traffic and the paucity of open space, but these signs of overcrowding mean money in your pocket the day you sign on the dotted line of a warranty deed. Soaring land values mean money for nothin'. According to a recent Sun-Sentinel article, the median sales price for homes in the Fort Lauderdale area grew by 12 percent compared to last year, a jump from $161,200 to $179,800. The West Palm Beach-Boca Raton area saw a median sales-price increase of 14 percent, from $139,200 to $158,300. Why the upsurge? As Manhattanites learned long ago, when you're surrounded by water, you run out of anywhere to build but upward. New Yorkers built in that direction, but down here, single-family homes with a patch of backyard are all the rage. And you don't have to have a beautiful mind to realize there are only so many lots to go around.

Guised as a smarmy version of Fernando Lamas, comedian Billy Crystal has for years espoused, "It's better to look good than feel good." It's an apt mantra for Fort Lauderdale's waterfront milieu, where appearance is everything. After all, just how comfortable can those women on Las Olas Boulevard be, what with six-inch stiletto heels scrunching their calves into knotty fists and breasts rock-hard with silicone and/or saline? The Prowler, Chrysler's new-wave hotrod, is a joyous escape from that mentality. Tucked behind the steering wheel and breezing down the avenues, you can be cool and feel cool. Need to shave off a few more degrees? Head this 285-horsepower bullet to the Florida Turnpike, pay your buck, and take her up to warp speed. For a mere $395 a day, you can rent a limited-edition navy-blue Prowler from Unique Auto.

Guised as a smarmy version of Fernando Lamas, comedian Billy Crystal has for years espoused, "It's better to look good than feel good." It's an apt mantra for Fort Lauderdale's waterfront milieu, where appearance is everything. After all, just how comfortable can those women on Las Olas Boulevard be, what with six-inch stiletto heels scrunching their calves into knotty fists and breasts rock-hard with silicone and/or saline? The Prowler, Chrysler's new-wave hotrod, is a joyous escape from that mentality. Tucked behind the steering wheel and breezing down the avenues, you can be cool and feel cool. Need to shave off a few more degrees? Head this 285-horsepower bullet to the Florida Turnpike, pay your buck, and take her up to warp speed. For a mere $395 a day, you can rent a limited-edition navy-blue Prowler from Unique Auto.

We like Hollywood Beach. We like the smell of burning sausage and popcorn (or whatever the hell it is) on the Broadwalk. We like its chaotic, totally Florida feeling, the sense that everyone there is from somewhere else. Hell, we even like the Canadians. And when we escape for a weekend on the beach, we stay at the Diane. Why? Because the rooms are right on the Broadwalk and have great ocean views. They have kitchens. And, at $70 or less off-season (the price jumps to $95 or more during the winter months), they are incredibly cheap and pretty darn clean. Plus, when you get really bored, the place has Canadian cable TV. You can't beat that, eh?

We like Hollywood Beach. We like the smell of burning sausage and popcorn (or whatever the hell it is) on the Broadwalk. We like its chaotic, totally Florida feeling, the sense that everyone there is from somewhere else. Hell, we even like the Canadians. And when we escape for a weekend on the beach, we stay at the Diane. Why? Because the rooms are right on the Broadwalk and have great ocean views. They have kitchens. And, at $70 or less off-season (the price jumps to $95 or more during the winter months), they are incredibly cheap and pretty darn clean. Plus, when you get really bored, the place has Canadian cable TV. You can't beat that, eh?