Sunday, May 1, 2016

Rebel Blood

I know my mom must’ve lamented time and time again about my rebel ways.  Why can’t she just follow the rules?  The norms?  Must she always be pushing the envelope?

Well, after my most recent trip to my hometown of Pine Castle, Florida, I think the answer is it’s in the genes.  I’m just the latest in a long history of envelope pushers.

Probably the earliest was Robert Emmett.  My Irish relative who led a revolution against tyrannical British rule and also supported the American Revolution.  Unfortunately, this uprising in 1803 was unsuccessful and led to his arrest and eventual hanging at the age of 25.  He is a well known martyr in Irish history.  Sadly, he could’ve safely made his way to France but was determined to go back for the woman he loved.  A romantic martyr at that.

Then, there’s my great great grandfather, James Gardiner, from Tennessee who fought bravely in the Civil War.  But, after the war, he learned that the man left in charge of the safety of the town’s women and children had raped his wife.  James surprised him with a shotgun blast and surreptitiously herded his wife and children over the mountain into Georgia, settling in Banks County.

His son fell in love with Lizzie Emmett.  Her father was horrified as James, Jr. was just another poor dirt farmer.  But, Lizzie’s mother liked him and set fire to the barn to distract Lizzie’s father so Lizzie could elope with Junior.  They made their way to Branford, Florida where my grandfather was born and raised.

Then, there’s my other great grandfather, Maximo Suck (rhymes with book), a German aristocratic Jew who was an importer/exporter in Mobile, Alabama.  Legend has it that he spoke multiple languages, which makes sense in that business.  His parents disowned him when he married my great grandmother, Grace Kelly Dominique, who was of French and Irish descent.  The problem was that she was Catholic and the first woman college teacher of business subjects in Alabama.  Simply scandalous!  Evidently, his parents shipped all his belongings to him and he shipped them right back.  No love lost there.

And their youngest daughter, Lucille, would become my grandmother.  Very well off, private schools, outstanding student, very reserved and naive to the ways of the world.  She fell head over heels at a dance for returning servicemen when she saw my grandfather, the son of the dirt farmer from Georgia.

And, now it was her parents turn to be horrified!  After their marriage a year later in New Orleans, John and Lucile headed to Birmingham then Savannah, eventually settling in the Orlando area.  After a promising start as a salesman, they were whacked by the Depression, losing their cherished bungalow on Mariposa Street and had to move their four children out to the country to try their hand at poultry farming.

Years later, he found his niche selling concrete blocks for a local builder when, thanks to those pesky hurricanes, Florida turned to block construction instead of wood framed houses.  “John the Promiser” was his nickname as he spent hours nightly on the phone promising potential customers whatever they needed.

So, really, should anyone be surprised that I’m headstrong, independent, opinionated and determined to take risks?  Can’t help it.  It’s in my blood!

Sunday, April 17, 2016

Beachin'

We are in a happy place.  Snowbirds are flying north.  Endless days of low 80s, sunny weather, soft breezes.  And I’m in a panic.  Our days are numbered here.  Of course, I can’t wait to hang out with my kids and grandkids, but I need to get to the beach.  I can’t return a pasty white girl.

My entire life I have loved the beach.  It’s calms me.  Just put up an umbrella and open my latest read and I’m in heaven.  My problem is every umbrella I’ve ever opened flew away as soon as I sat down.

Two years ago, Buff Honey went on Amazon and bought a Coleman beach canopy that measures 12 feet by 12 feet.  We’ve never used it.  His kids have and insist that it is ridiculously easy to put up.  The one that erected it is an engineer.  We are not.

And that’s the primary reason we have never used it.  Last week, we bit the bullet, wheeled the  thing down to Nokomis Beach, took out the instructions and the reading glasses.  Never in my life have I ever been able to follow directions in any area, so I was content to keep my mouth shut (one helluva feat) and be Vanna.

BH is no engineer but he is nothing if not persistent.  We tried a myriad of ways to get that thing up and after several fits and starts, we prevailed much to the amusement of our fellow beachgoers.  After setting up our beach chairs (which I am finally getting the hang of), we opened our books and breathed in that fabulous gulf air and sighed deeply…..ahhhh, this is why we’re here.

Our next set up will be a breeze, but the initial confusion reminded me of years ago when my father bought a tent for our family’s road trip from Florida to see his family in Minnesota.  I think he was a bit worried about setting it up, because he invited my uncles and aunts over for a trial run in our living room.  You would think an airplane mechanic would have it under control.  Not a chance.

He was a fairly reserved man.  When he was annoyed, which was seldom, he would utter his version of a curse, “Gee, Christmas!”  I never remember him being angry.  The total opposite of my mother who was nothing if not on the vitriolic side.  

Her family was not reserved.  They were good natured with enormous senses of humor and loud.  In a good way.  Naturally, I say that because those are the genes I inherited.  Anyway, the living room was filled with the men yelling out directions and the women and children getting a kick out of the whole scene.  After an hour or so, the tent was standing.

The next day, we set out for Minnesota, leaving very early in the morning with minimal stops along the way to our destination in northern Georgia.  My father like many was obsessed with making time.  Bathroom breaks?  “Hold it,” was his refrain until my mother gave him what for.

If it was up to her, we would’ve taken the back roads, stopping at all the historic markers along the way.  But, he wasn’t into history.  He wanted to get there.  And when we finally pulled into our campsite, it was getting dark and he had to get that tent up.

As my mother was admiring the gurgling creek, he set out the tent on the flattest area and discovered to his horror that the tentpoles were still in our living room.  My mother and us three children were ecstatic!  OMG, we can stay in a cabin.
About this time, two young men appeared to inquire about helping us.  When they heard our dilemma, these two teenagers started searching for sturdy tree limbs that they could whittle into tent poles.  They worked like a charm.

Our cabin dreams were dashed and we carried those tree limbs to our campsites through the south and midwest to our destination, Albert Lea, Minnesota.  As crazy as it started, it was far and away our best family vacation.

That pretty much ended my camping days.  Just give me a beach front room at the Marriott or the Hyatt.  That’s my idea of roughing it.

And, now, we have this canopy that’s the size of our living room.  Ahhh, nothing like beachin’ it!

Thursday, April 7, 2016

Florida Foodie

Eating is among life’s greatest pleasures, although I was very late to that party.  I grew up in a house filled with tension and meals were no different.  I could barely eat; my stomach was in knots.  My mother was no Julia Childs, more like a Chef Boyardee type.  Straight out of the box.

Fresh herbs? Spices? Farm to table? What were those things?  My family grew botanical plants and tropical flowers and even fruit trees.  No vegetable garden.  For the most part, vegetables at dinner were out of a can.  In FLORIDA??!!

Needless to say, cooking did not come easily to me.  My philosophy was basically ‘If you can read, you can cook.’  This was long before Food Network and Rachel Ray.  Yes, Julia was a big hit on public television but her recipes were way out of my league.  What compelled me about her was the huge amount of wine she was pouring into those sauces and her hearty laugh.

Marriage and kids came along so popcorn would no longer suffice for dinner.  I had a few standards, thanks to The Joy of Cooking, one of the best wedding gifts I ever received.  While my New England friends were lapping up The New York Times Cookbook, I was struggling to make sense of Joy.  My philosophy was inadequate, to say the least.

Fortunately, I managed to marry men who were undemanding.  They were pretty handy in the kitchen, although not so much around the house.  In fact, Kevin did all the dinners when he started working from home.

My kids were pretty picky eaters.  When they were really small, they didn’t like the meals we ate so they grazed.  Platters, we called them.  Stone wheat crackers, cheese, grapes, carrots and raw broccoli (little trees, according to them).

When I lost my mate, life got crazy out of control.  Working long hours, driving the kids to soccer and every other sport and event.  Afternoons were hectic and sitting down for a home cooked meal was rare.  Yes, I know the family should eat dinner together but it didn’t happen.

Instead we frequented the drive-thrus at various fast food establishments and held the record in Columbia, Maryland for the most pizza takeout orders from Domino’s.  I am not proud of these facts and I count it as one of my greatest shortcomings as a parent.  However, my children love me anyway and despite my poor example, they are great cooks and ridiculously healthy eaters.

In retirement, I have seen the light.  Finally.  I enjoy cooking more than I ever have, although it’s still not a nightly activity.  I still like my happy hours and apps.  But, living in Florida makes it possible to go to farmers’ markets every week of the year and pick up fresh fruit, vegetables and seafood.  I’ve gotten some fantastic recipes using fresh produce from the Florida Department of Agriculture website, Fresh from Florida.

I have two absolute favorites:  Steak in a Bowl and Ambrosia.  Both are fast and easy….my requisites.  Here they are.

Steak in a Bowl.  Layer the following ingredients:  black beans, cooked fresh corn, diced tomatoes, fresh cilantro.  Squeeze fresh lemon juice over the layers, then add a little bit of hot sauce.  Top with sliced, grilled steak or substitute with fish, chicken or nothing at all.  It’s all good.

Ambrosia.  Peel and cut four fresh oranges into chunks, add 1/4 cup of shredded coconut, dice one large apple, 1 small can of crushed pineapple, drained, and sliced strawberries.  Toss and refrigerate for an hour or more.  This can be a side dish or dessert for any meal.   No yogurt or whipped cream.  Just fresh fruit for full flavor.

My kids are probably thinking….’You couldn’t have done this 20 years ago??!!’




Saturday, April 2, 2016

I Can See Not So Much

It’s over.  Both cataract surgeries done.  No, I’m not reaching for my glasses before I even get out of bed.  Yes, I can see so much better.  However, it’s not perfect.  Not like everyone I ever talked to who got their cataracts done.  Well, there is one exception and that’s my friend, Tim.

He had his done several weeks ago and he’s still seeing flashes.  Not as promised.  And he got the Gucci cataract surgery.  For my younger readers who are clueless, that’s surgery that implants progressive lenses.  Let me tell you, Medicare does not pay for that.  It’s out of pocket about $3000 for each eye.
 
When I initially started this process, this was one of the alternatives they discussed with me.  “Do you think this is something you would be interested in?”  Uhh…NO.  If I was going to spend that kind of money, it would be on a facelift.

My right eye with the distance lens is perfect.  I can watch television, go to movies, drive.  The left eye has the computer/dashboard lens and it’s a little blurry.  The brain is supposed to mesh them just like it did when I tried the mono vision contacts.  The brain worked perfectly.  I’m thinking it must be something with the lens.  I go back for a check up on Tuesday.  Trust me, I’m hoping for an easy fix….for once!

Of course, the problem with being able to see better is looking in the mirror!  OMG!  Where did those wrinkle and jowls come from?  So glad I’m serious about the weight loss thing.

The 5:2 fast diet is working like a charm.  Mostly.  The biggest issue is that life gets in the way, occasionally.  A couple of weekends ago, Buff Honey and I flew back to Maryland for a long weekend, primarily to surprise his youngest at her engagement party.  She was so stunned when he showed up, she burst into tears!  It was worth every penny to be a witness to such joy.

We flew on a Thursday and arrived at a freezing cold house with no food and no Verizon to watch the NCAA Tournament.  Around 6, we bundled up and arrived at the local Green Turtle to a packed house.  Why?  It was St. Patrick’s Day!  We are retired people who have zero concept of dates and times.  Fortunately, they took pity on us and seated us almost immediately.  We were grateful and went back almost every night.

There was dinner with my grandchildren in Pennsylvania on Friday and brunch with the rest of my children and grandchildren in Baltimore on Sunday.  How’s a girl to fast?!

This past week I fasted on Monday but then the Orioles were playing their last home spring training games the rest of the week.  Being the huge fans we are, of course, we were going!  I do not go to a ball park to fast.  Yes, I love to watch the O’s but I love the hot dogs and the Cuban sandwiches almost as much!

So, guess what today is?  A fast day.  I’ve ingested a trail mix bar, a cup of coffee and a 100 calorie bag of Skinny Pop.  I also walked three miles and cleaned the whole house.  I am no neat freak but things are a little out of hand here.  Had to break out the broom and Pledge.  My impetus?  We’re being treated to a house cleaning….is there any better gift than that??!!  Gotta clean for the cleaners.  I know.  Crazy.

I’m a little obsessive about this diet.  After years of trying, I am totally determined.  I weigh myself first thing in the morning (now without my glasses) and I keep a log of my results.  So far, I am averaging two pounds monthly.  I’m under 120 for the first time in over 10 years.  I’m psyched!  Only 10 more pounds to go….then I”ll get that facelift!







Saturday, March 12, 2016

An Uncivil War

As long as I can remember, I’ve always been fascinated with politics.  Years ago, I remember watching the political conventions on our black and white television where every state announced its delegate count.  Back in the day, every state had a favorite son included in the delegate mix.  Most of them weren’t in the running but the states honored them by sending a few delegates their way.

Of course, this was way before cable TV, nasty ads that dominate our every waking moment,  and 5000 debates leading up to the actual nomination.  I’m not one to long for the past but heaven knows it was a little more civil then.

In my 68 years, I can honestly say I’ve never witnessed anything quite like this.  I can’t even imagine future elections.  Yes, I’m a Democrat and there is the typical sniping between the candidates.  I don’t subscribe to that but, at least, there’s more substance when they debate.  They don’t reference each other’s private parts.

If I identified as a Republican, I would be absolutely mortified.  There’s only one adult in that room and it appears that door will shut very shortly.  Interestingly, this week the Sun Sentinel based in Fort Lauderdale and owned by the Tribune, refused to endorse any Republican candidate.  They found not one of the candidates worth it.

“Trump would shake up Washington, no question,” the board wrote. “He might even unite Republicans and Democrats against a common enemy — himself. But given his smug, erratic, often petulant demeanor, do you really trust him with the keys to our nuclear arsenal?”
Duh…..that’s a resounding NO WAY!!!

They’re done with their boy, Rubio, because he doesn’t show up for work and backed away from the one piece of legislation on immigration he ran for office on.

Cruz basically hates Washington and wants to shut down the government.  “Cruz scares us.  He also should scare Republicans who want to win in November.”  Cruz tries so hard to get on that pulpit his father preached from, but as much as he tried to woo the Bible Belt, they got in bed with Trump.  Curious, ain’t it?

As for the only adult who refuses to engage in disgusting rhetoric, the only one who could conceivably best a Democrat in the general election, the Sun-Sentinel gives him a pass.  “Perhaps in a more-rational election year, the Sun Sentinel would endorse John Kasich. But we can’t urge you to vote for someone who doesn’t have a chance of winning the nomination.”

It looks like Trump may be their boy.  Wow….talk about a low bar.  “Make American Great Again.”  Not much of a veiled reference to the fact that our country is just not as white as it used to be.  He appeals to those people who could never accept our current President.  Trump encourages these bigots to violently assault protesters who will not accept his racist and xenophobic rants.

Yes, a lot of blue collar men lost jobs and have not recovered economically.  Where have their jobs gone?  To countries where labor is cheaper.  Corporations have to get more than their fair share.  Just ask Trump.

He loves to rile these people up.  Does anybody really think he’s going to do anything for them?  He’s going to bring back all these jobs?  Of course, he’s not.  Just remember….he loves the “poorly educated.”  They’re obviously willing to follow him to Jonestown and drink the Kool-Aid.

God bless America.  It’s ugly out there.

Tuesday, March 1, 2016

Reveling in Retirement

I look back on my own grandparents from a child’s perspective.  Were they having fun?  I’m not so sure.  My grandmother had a nursery and taught all of so much about gardening, while my grandfather ‘slapped’ the cards on the table nightly until after midnight chain smoking without any obvious ill effects.  He finally gave them up at age 89.

My other grandparents sold the farm in Minnesota and moved to sunny Orlando, the City Beautiful, long before it became the ugly, overdeveloped metropolis it is now.  They struck me as nothing if not sedentary.  I remember my grandpa watching wrestling on TV, and my grandma crocheting doilies.  When they were cross with each other, the conversation flipped from English to Danish, rendering us clueless.

No one really traveled much.  Their social lives were pretty confined to their children and grandchildren.  I don’t remember them going to the movies, restaurants, plays, the opera.

The boomers are different.  We seem to have chosen an alternate path just like every other stage of life we’ve encountered.  We’re exercise-driven.  Thank God for artificial hips and knees!  Even though I came to the party late, I’m now a health nut and living in Florida provides me with year-round farmers’ markets.

Traveling has provided us with a wider world view, a clearer understanding and gratitude of the gifts we take so much for granted.  We’re not as dependent on our children as previous generations.  Most of us have spent decades in the work force and, hopefully, the returns have let us enjoy a slower way of life.

The greatest asset of retirement is the joy of reconnecting with ‘old’ friends.  Right now, my college roommate and her husband are hot tubbing at the house they are renting next door here in Venice.  He was actually raised in Venice where his father had the Rexall Drug Store downtown where TJ Carney’s Pub is now.  My roommate is from a town south of here and all of my closest friends at Florida State University were from this area.  Little did I know that I would settle here almost 50 years later.

Later this summer, I’m meeting four of my girlfriends from high school at Tybee Island, near Savannah.  Every other year, we gather at a southern beach to catch up on children, grandchildren and life in general.  The first time we did this in 2005, we didn’t stop talking for days on end and as we were departing, one smart aleck quipped, “We’ll do this again in two years, tell the same stories and no one will remember any of them!”

On Saturday, BH and I are traveling to Fort Myers for lunch to meet a couple that had a huge influence when I was a teacher/politician in Hartford, Connecticut.  In fact, Kevin and I married in their back yard.

I could go on and on about the friends I’ve been able to reconnect with, most of whom I haven’t seen for at least 30 years.  And, the amazing thing is that there is literally no distance in those years.  We are basically the same people we were then.  Yes, we’ve traveled the roller coaster of life and, of course, we all have gathered some baggage,  But, we respect each other, appreciate our differences, and celebrate our commonalities.

If only our politicians could board that same train….

Thursday, February 25, 2016

I Can See

I guess my poor eyesight is genetic, although neither one of my parents suffered from being nearsighted.  No glasses for them.  My siblings escaped it.  Just me, the lucky one.  I hated those eye charts, feeling like a failure unable to pass that test.  My desk kept moving closer to the chalkboard.

I’m sure the doctor related that information to my parents but a tight budget left little room for eyeglasses.  Finally, the school called and that did the trick.  Got my first pair at 10 years old.  Remember those cat eye glasses?  Mine were two-toned blue and green…matched our Chevrolet.  Now they’re considered ‘vintage’ or ‘retro’ and loved by celebrities…really.

What a revelation when I first put them on.  I could see!  I saw the formations in the clouds.  I saw dairy cows from hundreds of yards away.  I could sit in the back of the classroom…which didn’t last long as I was a talker and got into trouble.  Thus, started my love-hate relationship with my spectacles.

I tried contacts in high school but that was way before soft lenses.  Yes, I got rid of the glasses, but I was constantly tearing up and my eyes were chronically bloodshot.  Most of the time, I felt like I had a knife in my eye.  Not attractive.

The next decade or so, the first thing I reached for in the morning were my glasses.  Eventually, I got very thin soft lenses that worked for about 25 years.  And then they didn’t.  Why?  Because I did not listen to my doctor.  Yes, I knew I had chronic dry eye.  My eyes do not manufacture enough tears.  I was told to take them off as soon as I got home from work.  I didn’t.  Eventually, it became too painful to wear them.

I investigated Lasik surgery.  Not a good candidate.  “You’re going to have to wait until you need cataract surgery.”  Well, that was about ten years ago and…. voila!… it’s here.

It came on slowly…halos around oncoming car lights at night….slight blurriness when I was reading.  I’d always had perfect up close vision.  Last summer, my ophthalmologist told me it was time.  I wanted to jump for joy!  Yes!  I can finally get rid of those pesky glasses.

My mother had just had hers done the year before and she just raved about her sight.  She could now get her driver’s license renewed….she’s 90.  And she is still a pretty good driver.  She also claims she’s never had an ache in her life.  A slight exaggeration to be sure.

Not so fast, my doctor cautions.  You have nodules on both of your corneas that will have to ‘scraped’ off before we can consider cataract surgery.  Evidently, this surgery is a lot more painful and has a longer recovery period than cataract surgery.  Great….but the timing is no good, butting up against my son’s wedding.

I elect to wait until we return to Florida to go to the renowned St. Luke’s Eye Institute that my family absolutely swears by.  My heavens, these are my eyes!  It’s not like getting a bad haircut that can grow back in a month.  My eyes are so bad, I’m horrified by the prospect of a botched job.

And, so I went to the experts.  Three hours of exams and the cataract specialist tells me I’m a special and complex case….my eyes are bumpy, not concave like they’re supposed to be.  I looked at the computer drawing and was horrified.  Significant astigmatism.  Not sure if we can give you good vision.  Yes, we can improve it but you may have to continue wearing glasses.
NOOOO!  Not what I wanted to hear.  Next step?  The cornea specialist.

Who totally confirms he has to scrape nodules off both my eyes.  That sounds daunting as does the warning that I’ll feel like I have a brick in my eyes for three days.  But, the hell with it.  I’m plodding my way through this.  They put numbing drops in my eyes and sure enough, he scrapes the nodules off both eyes, a week apart.

The first day was awful, the second day much better, the third day…no problem at all.  However, I will say that Nyquil was a dear friend during this period.

Last week, the cataract specialist looked again at my new results and was downright giddy!  “Wow, you have great options now.”  I tell him I want long distance vision in one eye and near vision in the other, so this week I’m wearing contact lenses to see how I’ll adjust.

He put them in and after two minutes, I told him I’m ready.  Whoa….not so fast.  He insists I try it for a week.  OMG!  This is a whole new world for me.  I can see when I get up in the morning.  I see the sky at night when we’re soaking in the hot tub.  I can see the TV and movies.

Hopefully, by the end of the month, I’ll have new eyes.  I am SO EXCITED!!!  A dream come true.


Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Visions

I’m a believer….a firm believer in life after death.  In my world, death is just a transition to our next life.  The afterlife which is really eternal life.  I didn’t get this from being a religious person.  I’m not particularly religious but I try to be spiritual.  I eschew religiosity.  I’m just not too good at following all the rules.

Everything changed for me at the age of 19, when I visited a spiritualist colony, Cassadaga, in central Florida.  It was a lark on a slow, sunny Sunday afternoon and my sister had been dying to go. Many Sunday afternoons we spent going antiquing or taking in film festivals starring Greta Garbo or Gloria Swanson, but Cassadaga was a new adventure.  Trust me, it didn’t disappoint.

We just walked up to a medium’s front porch, knocked on the door and asked for a reading  During my turn, the medium started coughing like a madwoman and she managed to ask me if anybody had died from throat cancer.  Well, that was my great grandfather who told me in that session I would be speaking in front of people one day and I needed to get back in school.

That turned out to be somewhat prophetic as I had dropped out of college and would go on to be a teacher and later an administrator.  There was also devastating news.  My grandmother was very ill and would not recover.  When I told my mother, she told me to stop cavorting with the devil.  A month later, my grandmother was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

I’ve been to Cassadaga dozens of times now and I have a cast of characters who seem to always visit me there.  My grandmother, my friend, Marcia, who passed in her early 50s from a brain hemorrhage, my ex-boyfriend’s mother, Edith, who advised me to kick him to the curb.  My Uncle Vinnie came about a month after he passed.  I swear it is like having a ‘normal’ conversation with my friends and family members who have gone on.  They know what’s going on in my life.  It’s like they’re here with me.  Which on some level they are.

None of this is lost on BH.  He’s not a believer.  If it ain’t tangible, it just can’t be.  Or not until he has actual proof.  I tell him there are pretty good odds that I will pass before him since he’s been taking good care of himself his whole life and I’ve been taking good care of myself for three years.  I tell him not to worry because I will definitely send him a sign from the other side so he’ll know it’s real.

Today, I read in the Herald-Tribune that palliative care physicians are finally starting to research the role of patients’ end-lo-life dreams and visions.  These have been happening for thousands of years and have shown up in medieval writings and Renaissance paintings, in Shakespeare’s works and in 19th century American and British novels.  We’re not talking near-death experiences, these are visions that happen as people get closer to death.

How amazing that our culture can finally start to appreciate this perfectly natural phenomenon and not pooh-pooh it!  We’re so quick to say the patient is delirious or losing their mind or over-medicated.  One of the most powerful stories I read was about a 13 year old girl who was dying of bone cancer.  She had a vision where she saw her mother’s best friend who had died of leukemia years ago playing with the curtains in her mother’s bedroom.  She turned to her mother and said, “I had a feeling she was coming to say, ‘You’re going to be OK.’ I felt relief and happiness and I wasn't afraid of it at all.”

I remember my own grandmother weeks away from her passing speaking to her mother as if she was there.  And I think she was.  She had come to comfort her, I believe.
Days before my husband, Kevin, left us, he awoke and was startled.  His eyes opened wide and he declared, “I’m not supposed to be here.  I died.”  They were already surrounding him.  I asked him if his Aunt Daisy was there.  He nodded.  She had never married and she contributed greatly to his college education.  He adored her.  I knew she would come.  He was hovering between life and death and her presence lessened the fear.

So far, no visions for me.  I can’t even remember any of my dreams.  Guess I ain’t going anywhere for awhile!



Tuesday, February 9, 2016

Welcome to the 21st Century

I’ve been on the hunt for a new car for months.  For years, I drove a SUV….Ford Explorer then a Toyota 4Runner and a RAV4.  They were perfect for transporting kids and equipment to sports events followed by moving them in and out of dorm quarters.  And then it all ended and one day I decided to search for a Toyota Solara convertible….the beautiful blue one with a black top.

My mom days were over as were my staid days as a school principal.  I’m single.  Time to live a little, change the image a bit, put that top down, feel the wind in my hair.  But Toyota had stopped manufacturing those convertibles by the time I wanted one so I consulted my brother to find me one and he did.  A real gem….a 2006, blue with a black top and leather interior and only 38,000 miles.  I bought it and he sold my 2006 RAV4.

It was a new day and a pretty good deal.  That was five years ago and I put about 100,000 miles on that car, traveling up and down the east coast.  At first, I was totally in love but then I started to notice little flaws….just like in any romantic relationship.  It didn’t have a jack for my iPhone.  The sound system wasn't great but who can hear anything with the top down?  I sat so low in the seat I could barely see over the steering wheel.

Okay, I admit I’m short…very short…but I abhorred having to sit on a pillow to see out the front window.  And the visibility in the rear?  Awful!  I hated having to back up or back into a parking space.  Not to even mention that my eyesight isn’t the best!

Most of the time I didn’t even want to put the top down.  As opposed to Buff Honey who also has a 2002 Solara convertible…black with a tan top with almost 250,000 miles on it.  Yes, the car has dents and scratches and a cracked leather interior but he is still in love.  He cannot bear to have the top up.  Of course, he used to ride a motorcycle daily through any kind of weather in Washington DC  commuter traffic.  Many days it took hours to get any feeling back in his feet and hands.  He went from his motorcycle to a convertible.  He still loves the wind in his face.  He needs his convertible.

For me, it was just a whim.  I had this dream to have a convertible.  I mean, I’m getting up there so if I was going to do it, I should just go ahead. I did and didn’t love it.  I started looking nostalgically back on my RAV4, sitting up high…no pillow necessary…and being able to see everything out the back.  I wanted that fabulous turning radius back.  But I had to ditch my ‘dream’ car before I could fall in love again.

I tried selling it on cars.com and craigslist and there were several bites….mainly from crackpots.  They actually thought they could get my bank info or my PayPal info so they could ‘deposit’ their money for the car.  I’m no whiz kid but I wasn’t buying that.  That went on for months and I wasn’t getting closer to my next car.  With winter on the way in Maryland, no one was thinking they just had to have a convertible ,so I drove it to Florida with the express purpose of getting rid of it as soon as we landed.

After two weeks on Craigslist in Florida and dropping the price drastically, I gave up and went into a Toyota dealer’s showroom in Venice.  I told him up front I wasn’t buying today but wanted to drive a new RAV4.  There was also a female sales associated with him that he was supposedly training.’ He asked about my convertible and I told him I’d tried to sell it myself and he immediately went into gales of laughter.  Why that was so darn funny I have no idea.

 I drove the new car, loved it (of course) and he told me they’d give me a trade-in of $1500 for my car.  So, I went into gales of laughter.  This went on for awhile until the sales manager came into the negotiations and said he’d give me $6000 for it if I bought that minute.  I balked and walked out.  Okay, maybe I walked out on the deal of a lifetime but I didn’t like these two slicksters.  How can they say $1500 one minute and $6000 the next? They’re not getting my money.  Done.

I made an appointment for the next day at a dealership in Sarasota. I walked in at the appointed time and the guy I was supposed to meet with was off that day.  Really?  I had just talked to him the day before.  Now, I’m down on Toyota and decided to go to the Honda dealership.

That’s where I met Andrew, probably in his mid 20s, very professional, didn’t promise the moon, was honest and professional from the beginning to the minute I drove that silver CRV off the lot.  The third time was the charm.  They gave me $5500 in trade-in and I’m sure I didn’t get the deal of a lifetime but it was fair.

Plus, who could not love these new cars?  It’s got the back-up camera, the blind side camera for changing lanes, the flashing BRAKES signal if you get too close to the car in front of you, a fabulous sound system that meshes with your iPhone, the car mileage data proving that these really are fuel efficient vehicles and the pick up on the highway is outstanding.  I still have a lot to learn and have returned to Andrew for a couple of extra lessons.  I am slowly entering the 21st century.

It still has that new car smell.  I love all the safety features, so much so that I can’t imagine not having them.  Every time I get in that driver’s seat automatically calibrated for my size, I breathe a heavy sigh.   Ahhhh….I’m in love!

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

One Last Shot

I admit it.  I’m obsessed.  With my weight….I guess, like a lot of women.  But, I obsess over being obsessed.  I’m in my late 60s….is there any chance things will really change at this point?  I mean, really….it’s been 30 years since my last childbirth.

Every year, I make the same resolutions….eat healthy, exercise daily.  Totally unoriginal.  I use my Lose It app most days, measure my steps.  Same old, same old.  Unfortunately, same old results.  Not much difference.

I envy my skinny friends who jumped right back into their skinny jeans after their last baby and kept it off.  Just disgusting.

Part of my obsession is that I was the skinniest girl in high school and for years afterwards.  Didn’t hit 100 pounds until I was in my mid 30s.  My metabolism was crazy.  I would come home, eat a family size bag of potato chips and never gain an ounce.

My parents were so worried about my weight they tried all kinds of remedies, including an ounce of cod liver oil everyday… the most vile tasting thing I ever had in my life. Then there was the period where my mom made me drink a milkshake with a raw egg in it every night.  I hate eggs so that milkshake didn’t stay down long.

Now, however, my metabolism has absolutely disappeared.  Not a good thing for a girl who’s only 5 feet tall.  Just like both of my grandmothers who didn’t lose the weight either.

I know what my issues are.  French fries and potato chips.  Oh, and then there’s the red wine and the dark chocolate.  I remember once trying the South Beach diet and wine was banned for the first 10 days.  Couldn’t do it.  I’m not proud of that, mind you, but my will power was lacking.

I did Weight Watchers for several months years ago and that was helpful but I wasn’t crazy about weighing in every week and listening to everyone’s success stories.  Also, my weight was on the high side of normal so my loss was agonizingly slow.  And nobody wanted to hear my story.

Recently, the craze was Garcinia Cambogia extract, “an exciting weight loss breakthrough in natural weight loss.”  Thank you, Dr. Oz.  Just more garbage claims that have resulted in multiple pharmaceutical companies increasing their take from desperate people trying to lose it.  I am through with you, Dr. Oz.  Total bunk.

My cousin, the one who teaches in Islamabad, posted a picture of himself with an obnoxious protruding stomach on Facebook last summer.  A “Before” picture.  He swore he had to lose 30 pounds and was going on the 5:2 intermittent fasting diet.  Fasting?!  I can’t even imagine doing anything like that.  But, he has discipline to spare….I think he got the better gene pool.

It works like this.  Two days a week, you cut your calorie intake significantly….500 for women, 600 for men.  The other five days you eat normally.  500 calories.  Well, that would be one boiled egg, one banana, a cup of cottage cheese, and an apple.  Voila!  That’s it.  And you do not increase your intake by the amount of exercise you’re doing.

If you don’t starve yourself to death, this definitely has to work!  No more fries, chips, chocolate and red wine on those days.  This is my resolution for 2016.  I’m still doing the strength training and the cardio daily but now I’m adding this 5:2 diet.  Of course, I live with my dear Buff Honey who loves his Cracker Barrel 3,229 calories Baked Apple Dumpling dessert and still gains no weight thanks to a metabolism that functions just fine due to his fitness routine.

But, he’s the best.  On my fast days, he doesn’t tempt me with his fresh baked chocolate chip cookies or grilled steak.  Last night, he commented, “I don’t know if you’re losing weight but you’re sure losing inches.”  Hopefully, that was a reference to my waist.

So, this is it.  One last shot at returning to Skinnyland.





Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Dreaming in Florida

It’s winter.  We’re back along with the thousands of other snowbirds from colder climes.  They make me crazy.  The roads are clogged.  Forget the restaurants.  No one cooks anymore and, evidently, nobody takes out a mortgage either.  Cash sales are the norm in southwest Florida.  Buff Honey bought three years ago and now nearly a thousand baby boomers are staggering into Florida daily.

I would like to extend our gated community in Venice to surround the entire area.  Not gonna happen.  Venice is a quaint town that was founded in the late 1800s and the main street was developed in the mid 1920s.  Much of its original character and Italian architecture form the downtown.  Parks abound throughout.  Royal palms lead you from Main Street  all the way to the beach.  The intracoastal waterway created what is now the island of Venice.  And BH and I would love to move there.

What’s not to love?   Daily walks downtown or to the beach makes for a paradise for the healthy senior set.  So far, that’s us.  The population is around 20,000 and the median age is 67.  Hence, the 5 o’clock closing time for most stores downtown.

Do not think for a minute that I don’t love our new home in Stoneybrook with its preservation areas that are home to sandhill cranes, blue herons, roseate spoonbills and alligators.  Yes, alligators.  No, I don’t go for night walks.  Yes, I love our pool and spa and love to get in that hot tub at night, especially in the winter.  Now, that is true relaxation.

But, you can’t walk to a grocery store or the movies or the library.  So, we fantasize about moving to ‘the island.’  Every now and then we go to open houses or even get a realtor to show us a few listings.

Here’s the problem.  One, they’re expensive….much more expensive than they were three years ago.  Thank you, baby boomers.  Second, they’re older construction.  The rooms are small, choppy, and everything needs updating.  Thank you, HGTV.  Whenever we see one, all I can think of is tearing down walls, ripping up carpet, and putting subway tiles everywhere.  Third, most of them do not have pools or spas or lanais with outdoor kitchens.  I never in my life wanted a pool until I had one.  It’s Florida.  It’s necessary.  Now, that is probably one of the most spoiled brat statements I’ve ever written.  I totally apologize.

A week or so ago when the lottery was topping a billion dollars, we had a cookout for our January snowbird friends from Maryland.  Someone asked what we would do with the money if we won.  That generated some interesting conversation….some people would give it all to charity (right!).  Others wanted to secure futures for generations to come.  I can’t really buy into that.  What’s the incentive for living a positive and rewarding life?  Sorry, kids.

Interestingly, BH and I had the same answer.  We would love to live on the water.  I grew up on South Lake Conway in Orlando, Florida.  I had no perspective on what a special setting that was.  Later, my parents retired to the mountains of North Carolina, living on a creek the size of a river.  But, I never again lived on water and BH never has.

It’s a dream.  A huge dream.  We ride down Manasota Key and Cedar Key oohing and aahing at the mansions overlooking the Gulf of Mexico.  We know it’s a long shot but then again, why not have a dream?

So, every day I enter the dream house sweepstakes on HGTV.  OMG!  I am so excited!!  The house is on the Indian River in Merritt Island on the east coast of Florida.  I am so in love.  It’s perfect except for that Caribbean Holiday turquoise they’ve painted the master bedroom and the gold gilded white drawers in the dining room.  It’s a can of paint.  I can handle that.

I’ll know my future by the end of February.  Of course, I know millions of other HGTV addicts are entering daily.  I know my odds are about zero.  But I have even less of a chance if I don’t even enter.

So, here I am….just another baby boomer dreaming in Florida.