Pictures From Last Week

I forgot to post a couple of pictures from my visit to Martin County.  The first one is from one of the many beautiful waterfront parks in and around Stuart.  The second is my starfish, posed on one of Frank's kayaks.

HELP – I’M STUCK IN MY SPORTS BRA AND CAN’T GET OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s true…there are times when it’s nice to have a man around the house. Like when you put on a sports bra for the first time in a long while. Here I am both arms pinned to my side by my sports bra which has become a living, breathing entity right before my very eyes. It has me in a stranglehold and I can’t move.

What does one do?

1. Hunt for the scissors? No, that won’t work because I can’t free my hands.
2. Call 911? Again – no hands. Also highly embarrassing. I thought about calling my roommate, Steve,  but     all  he would do is suggest is 1 and 2. (“Mr. Fixit” doncha know)
3. Enlist the help of a neighbor? Nope – see #2.

So – there I am, trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey with no relief in sight. Thus, it’s figure a way out or wait until someone finds my body. I manage to get one arm free and the damn thing wraps around my neck, strangling me. After mimicking a contortionist, I am finally able to breathe and the thing is snugly holding my boobs where nature intended them to be. Of course, they don’t move, but I think that’s the intent.

Then it’s on to panties. One must always wear thongs under exercise wear. Why? Just because, you idiot. Heaven forbid that anyone sees panty lines at the gym. What about the mortification of camel toes if you’re wearing nothing??? Or better yet – the medic that comes to revive you when you pass out sees that you do NOT have on clean underwear!!!

Then it’s time to pick out my exercise wear. OF COURSE IT MATTERS!!! If I’m going to sweat, I want to do it in a fashionable way, right? It’s too freakin’ cold for shorts and I have NO long pants suitable for a workout. I mean, when your inseam is 34” – everything you wear looks like Capri pants, unless it’s a tall. Thus, I go with pink Capri length stretch cotton. With sequins down the side of the legs. Duh! Doesn’t everyone wear sequins to the gym???

Next, I need a top that matches my pink pants and pink sports bra but allows for plenty of movement. Short sleeves, for sure – they will have the heat on. (After all, it’s 60 degrees outside – brrrrrrr) So, I settle on a tank top in a pink design with pink sparkly beads. Not a lot – just a couple of dozen, nothing ostentatious. I look in the mirror and realize I look too girly, so I throw on an oversized t-shirt that says “Rescue Dive Team”. That will show that I’m serious about working out.

Time for tennis shoes – pink, of course. Problem is that they are a little short and my toenails are a little long – not a good combination. So, I settle for my size 12 narrow New Balance running shoes. Damn they’re big. But they fit.

The gym is part of the Memorial Hospital Rehabilitation Center, so there are people of all ages and sizes. I pick out a locker and hit the treadmill. Now, I haven’t been able to figure out my MP3 player, although I’ve had it for three years, so I can’t hear what’s on the TV sets, nor can I listen to music to enhance my workout experience. As I’m on the treadmill, I look around and realize that there are a LOT of old people there. (NO – I DO NOT qualify as old) There’s one old guy getting on the stepper and he’s in such bad condition, it takes him ten minutes to put his feet on the pedals. Then I see three old ladies using the rowing machines at a snail’s pace. I didn’t know they even moved that slow. The machines, that is.

I’m done with my workout and it’s getting close to lunchtime and I see Frank on a step machine. My plan is to sneak behind him, pinch him on the butt and say “no wonder you have such a nice ass”. Cute, huh? Only problem is that right before my fingers are poised to pinch his butt, I realize he’s not wearing the same thing as Frank. Why you ask? Because it’s NOT Frank. OMG thank goodness I realized it BEFORE I pinched him. That would have been just a little more than embarrassing.

As we’re leaving, Frank asks about the other facility in Pembroke Pines, about ten miles from here. Turns out they have a pool AND a Jacuzzi. I looked over some of the classes they have – yoga, Pilates, Zumba, Kick-boxing, etc. and decide that I would enjoy joining this gym. Especially after the people at LA Fitness were so rude to Frank when I took him as a guest once.

Now comes the funny part. Frank had told me it would cost less than $20 for me to be added to his membership and was willing to do that for me. Only one problem – it’s supposedly for people who live together. Thus, we had to convince the lady that we lived together. (Even though his drivers’ license said Stuart and mine said Miami Beach) Of course, I had to ask Frank what our address was. Then the lady says “how long have you two been together?”. Frank immediately responds with “two years”, and I pop up and say “two years this May”. Then, Frank has to confirm the spelling of my name…”do you really have two L’s in your name?”. Dead giveaway. So, we have to explain to her that we each own a home – Frank in Stuart and me in Miami Beach. It has t

You think YOU’RE confused??? Think about the poor lady helping us. We’ll be back at the gym on Thursday for a “together” workout but I have to decide what class I want to take tomorrow night. Zumba? Pilates? Pil Yoga? Kickboxing? I think it will depend upon my mood…and the mood of my sports bra.

Ciao

Sorry there's no picture, but I honestly don't think it would be a pretty sight.

Meet "TWEETY"

On Tuesday, December 29^th, Frank took me up to Stuart, where he owns a home.  The plan was for me to clean out the spa and clean the back porch while he cut the grass and worked in the yard. Frank decided he would rather have me go to Walmart and get cleaning supplies and some provisions than clean the porch, as he didn’t think the grass needed to be cut just yet.

This plan worked out great, as he had laundry to do and I had brought some laundry of mine. (The washer in my place has been broken for five months – it leaks gallons of water onto the floor) 

I’m standing in the laundry room waiting for the rinse cycle when I spot what looks like an old bike.  It was filthy and pitted from the elements but her lines were just BEAUTIFUL.  She reminded me of the bike I had when I was about 12 years old.  As I’m admiring the bike, I realize that it has GEARS.  I don’t remember if my bike had gears or not but if it did, there were only three gears.  This bike had a control on the handle similar to a throttle on a motorcycle and I could tell it had quite a few gears. The body color is lemon chiffon yellow and she has whitewall tires.  BIG tires, too.  And a big seat – not the pubic killer like on the mountain bike.

I forgot about the bike, as we were going out to dinner.  Frank was the recipient of a relaxing massage and an early bedtime, as he hadn’t slept since getting off work at 7 a.m. Then, the next day, it was up to Melbourne to have lunch with Charlene and Charles.  Afterwards, we hit a produce market and a natural foods store.  Then to Publix, where we picked up the ingredients for Chicken Caesar Salad.  After a yummy dinner, we hopped into the spa for an hour or two. After a shower to rinse off the chlorine, we slept like babies.

The next morning, Frank had one more load to do.  When I got his clothes out of the dryer, my eyes fell on the bike again and my tummy did a little flip because she was just so beautiful.  I finally asked Frank about the bike.  He said he had bought it for an old girlfriend but she couldn’t ride it so he kept it after they split up.  I’m thinking “couldn’t ride it????” How could anybody NOT ride it.  He says “do you want to ride it?”  Hell YES, say I.  I take off down the street and I get that old feeling that I used to get when I was 12, riding down the street with the wind in my hair and not a care in the world – free from earthly bounds. (And parental supervision, I’m sure)
 

When I get back, Frank says, “so would you like it?” (I’m certain he meant to use it, not to have it) YAY, I’m thinking – I LOVE that bike and ask him if we can bring it back to Hollywood.  He says “sure”. YAY again. On the way out, he stops at a bike shop and gets the support rack for two collapsible side baskets for the back.  It already has a removable basket in the front.

When I got home, I washed and dried her and proceeded to scrub the pitting off.  Frank was able to get rid of it completely, but I think it takes a strong hand and some elbow grease.  I’ve been steadily working on it and will continue until it’s perfect.  I’m going to get streamers for the handlebars and ribbons for the front basket. And a water bottle holder. And a bell. And a rear view mirror. Can you tell I’m excited??? I can’t WAIT to take her to the Hollywood Beach Broadwalk soon.  Too bad it’s cold right now. Soon, though.

 

Want to know why I called her “Tweety”??? Because she’s yellow and she came from my tweety!!  (Get it? “sweetie”)

So...Here's TWEETY

 

O WHERE O WHERE HAVE THE HOLIDAYS GONE?????

They seemed to come and go in an instant.  Thanksgiving was spent at Mom’s, celebrating her 83^rd birthday on the 25^th. Corrie and I stayed overnight and had Thanksgiving dinner with them.  I cooked.  It’s really hard to come up with a menu for people who don’t eat vegetables.  Every single thing was a carbohydrate: mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, rolls, gravy, cranberry sauce.  I ate more carbs in one day than I do in a week!

 The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas was spent working for the Red Cross and planning the annual “Volunteer Appreciation” event.  Fortunately, I had a helper who was able to get plenty of donations for raffle prizes.  Mostly restaurant certificates, but some nice hotel stays.  The Westin Diplomat gave us two nights.  VERY generous.  Then, a day spa gave us a certificate for a hair wash and blow dry.  What’s that worth??? $5? I was embarrassed to give it away, so I put it together in a prize package.

Frank went with me to the event, even though he had to work that night.  I got a Certificate of Appreciation for my work with Community Disaster Education program and won a couple of raffle prizes – one was a backpack crammed with Red Cross stuff.  Just my luck.  Oh well, I was able to “re-gift” a couple of things, like a Red Cross first aid kit.  Crap – my whole vehicle is one big first aid kit.

On Christmas Eve, Frank and I took off for Markham Park.  It’s a HUGE park located west of Ft. Lauderdale and right next to the Everglades.  We took bikes but no kayaks.  What one must appreciate is that we both drive SUV’s and they were BOTH filled to the gills.  Frank put up the tent, I blew up the mattress and “made the bed”, and Ginger did what she does so well – tangle up the cord on the leash.

We had picked out a recipe for Christmas Eve dinner.  Just a simple pot of corn on the cob, shrimp, Brussels sprouts, garlic and turkey sausage seasoned with Old Bay.  Problem is, I forgot the turkey sausage.  I had bought two pounds of homemade sausage from the Delaware Chicken Farm but it had fallen out of the package and sat overnight in the car.  I threw it out. As I am attempting to boil the water in the bottom of the HUGE stock pot, I realized that the shrimp weren’t getting cooked, so I threw in some olive oil and called it stir fry.

After dinner, Frank made a nice fire and we just enjoyed the outdoors and each others’ company.  Ginger was Ginger.  Bedtime comes early in the Everglades.  The first night was too warm to sleep inside the sleeping bags, so we slept on top.

Christmas morning, we had mimosas with a breakfast of roast beef hash, eggs, toast and fruit.  The park was closed to the public on Christmas Day and we had the whole place to ourselves.  I had stuffed Ginger in to her carrier (that attaches to me), climbed on Frank’s mountain bike and off we went.  Ginger seemed to enjoy having the wind in her ears and we went all through the park. We even went up on top of the levee that separates the park from the Everglades. I was uncomfortable, as there was a lot of loose gravel and my balance was already skewed because of Ginger hanging from my neck, so we stuck to the roads within the park.  We took a two hour bike ride and still didn’t cover all of the park.  

The day was so (literally) short, that we didn’t start dinner until it was almost dark.  I had brought some Matchlight charcoal that Steve probably had for ten years or more and it wouldn’t light.  That is, until we dumped the coals out under a tree and started over.  Then, they turned into beautiful glowing embers, of course.  Frank finally got the charcoal going, thanks to some wood from the fire and we were able to cook dinner – filet mignon, lobster, asparagus and salad.  YUM.

Christmas night was chilly and I was sure glad I packed warm clothes for both me and Ginger.  We had another fire and Frank had a Patron marguerite and I had a couple of Grey Goose martinis. YUM again.

The weather the next day (the day after Christmas) was funny.  It drizzled a little, the sun came out a little, it was cool for a while, then it was warm for a while. After breakfast, we headed out on the bikes again.  We stopped at the dog park, which is HUGE.  They have a giant fenced in area for big dogs and a smaller area for little dogs.  They even have doggy water fountains, structures to climb on, benches for humans and they even provide litter bags.  Of course, Ginger won’t leave my side.  She’s just not interested in socializing with dogs at all.  It was funny, at one point there was a “sniffing train” of about five dogs in a row, all sniffing each others’ butts. It was tons of fun just watching the other dogs.

After a stop at the dog park, we headed to the remote controlled airplane field.  There must have been about 20 planes – all shapes and sizes, even jets. There was also a Christmas tree decorated with airplane parts.  I took a picture for dad – I think he’ll enjoy it.   

We watched the planes for about two hours and struck up conversations with other people.  It was really a fun time.  We should have gone to the remote control boat portion of the lake but just forgot about it.  

When I tried to stuff Ginger back in her carrier, she wanted no part of it.  Frank suggested that we let her run beside us.  Since he was handling the bike much better than I, he took her leash. There we were, us on the bikes and Ginger running beside us on her leash.  One car went by and the occupants yelled “give that dog a skateboard”.  It was hilarious and she loved it.  By the time I went to stuff her into the carrier again, she was pooped and all too happy to get in!  Dinner was Frank’s country style ribs and a salad.  Once again, a nice fire and bedtime.

It took us over two hours to pack up and we were both glad that we didn’t have very far to go to get home.  Frank had to work that night, so he needed to get some sleep.  I think he slept very well.

Would I go again??? YOU BETCHA! Stay tuned for the next adventure.

This and That

As I grow older, it is evident to me that if I don't write stuff down, I don't remember it. Thus - I am going to attempt to keep up with this blog more often. Besides, I have a lot of friends that don't want to sign up to Facebook but would like to know what's happening in my life. So, if you're one of those, enjoy!

Below are some pictures and videos that chronicle the time between when I last wrote and the end of 2009.










 This is the TranSyberian Orchestra concert

An Iguana on a kayak trip

My favorite place to be - Hollywood Beach, right across from the organic market.

 

My second favorite place to be - Ocean Alley on the Broadwalk in Hollywood Beach.  Breakfast, Lunch, Cocktails, Dinner, "hangin' out"m, whatever - it matters not. It's the ambiance and the people watching!

Here's a picture of me on a Disaster Action Call responding to a fire.

And my chronicle wouldn't be complete without some pictures of Ginger.