Elliptical Torture

In my endless endeavor to not get chunky around the middle, I'm always looking for new things to do at the gym.  It's not that I want to look like Helen Gurley Brown who died at age 90 weighing the same 100 pounds she weighed her whole adult life and looking like a cadaver the last ten years.  I was never a Cosmo Girl.

But I do want to stay active and healthy.  My friend started using the Elliptical after her doctor suggested it.  She's getting great results but it's a real torture machine.  It's also deceptive.  It looks like fun.  And it feels like fun for the first 30 - 40 seconds.  Then it's murder.

Last time I talked with my friend she was up to 45 minutes on the Elliptical - and she'd lost weight.   I started a couple of weeks ago and am up to six minutes.

Don't know if it's working yet but it burns calories like crazy so that's motivating.


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Appreciating the Little Things

Oak Harbour

No, life is disastrous, painful moments, unexpected moments and things that will break your heart.  And in between those moments that's where you savor, savor, savor.
-  Sandra Bullock in response to those who say "Life is so good."

I think I can agree with both Ms. Bullock's statement and the "Life is so good" statement.  To me, the trick is appreciating what's good on a daily basis.

This morning Orlando Sentinel columnist Scott Maxwell did his annual "101 Things We Love About Central Florida" Thanksgiving list.  It inspired me to do my own (much shorter) list of the little things in my life that make me feel good.  I'm not naming people because that list would be humongous.

I feel really good when I'm.......

1.  Eating a blueberry muffin at Panera's on Park Ave. on Saturday mornings.

2.  Walking past every single store and restaurant on Park Ave.

3.  Walking under the trees in Oak Harbour.

4.  Walking into the multicolored Mennello Museum.

5.  Doing water aerobics with the ladies.

6.  Sitting in the sanctuary of First United Methodist Church of Winter Park.

7.  Walking around Lake Eola, Lake Lily and Crane's Roost.

8.  Sitting in my living room early in the morning reading and eating an egg sandwich.

9.  Texting with family members.

10.  Listening to NPR and The Philips Phile in the car while I'm running errands.

11.  Attending the Enzian.

12.  Having catfish with beans and greens at Cracker Barrel

13.  Leading a lunch time discussion group and having the truth emerge from the group over and over again.

14.  Reading one good book after another.

15.  Eating kettle corn from the Winter Park Farmer's Market.

16.  Writing this blog.


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Two Real Estate Brokers

This morning we went to the annual Leadership Prayer Breakfast, held here in downtown Orlando at the Church Street Station Ball Room.

The speaker was Ed Kobal who told us the remarkable story of his life. Mr. Kobal overcame serious obstacles, worked hard, gave his life to God and became fabulously well to do.   He is, or has been, a commercial real estate broker, among many other things.

I'm still pondering much of what he said.

Afterwards I read, in this morning's paper, the obituary of David Weeks, another commercial real estate broker.  Mr. Weeks was a character who lived by his own rules to the end.  The obit laid it all out there, just like he did when he was here among us.

We were reminded that, for decades, Mr. Weeks lived by this schedule:

• 10 a.m. to noon:  Work
• Noon to 2 p.m.:   Drink and play pool at the University Club in downtown Orlando.
• 2 to 6 p.m.:         Happy Hour
• 6 p.m.:                Dinner

His friends and family remembered him as a whiskey loving, storytelling maverick, twice married, twice divorced, who play hard and worked as little as possible.   He loved to play his guitar and drink with his dog Mamie (short for Cockamamie.)  His friends called him "Crazy Davie."

But his daughter said he was a great father and I knew (of) him as being instrumental in feeding the homeless downtown.

Mr. Weeks died at age 84.

I'm sure some religious folks know exactly where Mr. Weeks is spending eternity.  I don't know.  My guess is that, somewhere out there, he's met up with a loving God.  One who loves each and every one of us just as we are.


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Fake It Till You Make It

I've had a hard week.  Some folks I love very much have been in pain.  I know that the price I pay for loving is to suffer when they suffer but it is so hard  stand by and know I can't fix things.

On another note, Dave took these photos last week when we were walking at Lake Lily in Maitland, Florida.  Seeing them reminds me of a hymn.

IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL

When peace like a river, attendeth my way, 
when sorrows like sea billows roll; whatever my

lot, thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.

And, Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, 

the clouds be rolled back as a scroll; the trump shall re

sound, and the Lord shall descend, even so, it is will with my soul.

It is well with my soul,

It is well, it is well with my soul.

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Danny Treanor

The first time I lived in Central Florida, in the 1970s, I was crazy about a skinny, young TV weather man named Danny Treanor.  Everybody was.  He was cute, entertaining and outrageously funny.  As it turns out, he was also drunk.  The station tried to force him into rehab but he thought "If I don't drink, I can't be funny."

As the years went by Danny did finally go into rehab but then he also got fired.  Of course the drinking took a terrible toll on his personal and professional life.  He worked selling time shares, as a substitute school teacher and as an I.D. checker at a bar.

Along the way he got sober.

Ten years ago he was rehired as a weatherman.  Only this time with local station Channel 13.  For the last 10  years he's entertained us all over again.  He's knowlageable about the weather, caring, mature - and funny.  He's full of self deprcating humor.

Last month, at age 68, Danny Treanor retired.  All of Central misses seeing him in our homes.  I, personally really, really miss you Danny.

By the way, Danny's been sober for 22 years.  He's a true hometown success story.


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Lou Pearlman

Lou Pearlman Then

Lou Pearlman was once our hometown hero.  He was the "Boy Band King."  He threw lavish parties.  Some of my family members attended them.  He was the epitome of rich and famous.

Then it all came troubling down.  He masterminded a big Ponzi scheme and bilked people out of millions of dollars.  He became one of our nation's top ten swindlers.  He lost everything, pleaded guilty to money laundering and other crimes and went to prison.

Several of his victims have been involved in a long and drawn out lawsuit.  It was settled this past week.  After all of the legal fees are covered his victims will be paid a few cents on the dollar.

One of them, a man named Seland Williams and his wife, like many others, lost all of their savings to Lou Pearlman.  They now live frugally on his Air Force pension and Social Security. They will most likely receive about $400 from the settlement. But Mr. Williams has responded in a triumphant manner.  Here is his quote from yesterday's paper.

Lou Pearlman Now

Yeah, sure, it's stressful, but I know a lot of people who let things get to them and do really dumb stuff.  Believe me, money doesn't mean everything.  I love my life.  I'm 84 now, and I'll keep living as long as I can.  I'm not going to let a fellow like Lou Pearlman mess me up.

It appears to me that, at this point, Mr. Williams is doing much better than Mr. Pearlman.


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Park Plaza Hotel

The Park Plaza Hotel on Park Avenue in Winter Park Florida is a small, elegant boutique hotel.  It has 24 rooms and 4 honeymoon suites.  Built in 1922, it retains it's original charm.  

For his birthday this past weekend, Dave booked the honeymoon suite at the Park Plaza.  I got to go with him.

Classy Lobby

Fern lined terrace

Second floor stained glass exit sign.

Classic Car show on the Ave

Breakfast on the terrace

Mormon Cowboys

When my son was a teenager he sincerely wanted to be a cowboy.  When we moved to Melbourne, Florida his opportunity came.  Deseret Ranch, owned by the Mormon Church, was about 30 miles away.  Scott wanted to apply for a summer job, knowing full well how challenging this work would be.  Since my car was his only mode of transportation at the time, it was a bit challenging for me as well.  I would have to make the daily 120 mile commute.

So it was with mixed emotions that we gave him the okay to apply.

If you would ask most folks, "Who owns the most property in Central Florida?" 99 percent of them would say Disney.  Not so,  Deseret Ranch sprawls over three Central Florida counties.  With its 300,000 (that's three hundred thousand) acres it's the largest cattle ranch in the country.

And now we're being told that the Mormon Church is buying an additional 400,000 (that's four hundred thousand) acres in Florida's panhandle.  The Mormons will then own 2% of Florida.

To my knowledge, the ranch has been good for Florida in a number of ways.  The Mormons are excellent ranchers.  And they must have terrific senses of humor what with the wildly popular "Book of Mormon" just wrapping up it's run here in downtown Orlando.  

Scott didn't get the job at the ranch.  But, over the decades, he's remained a super outdoors man -   and a super person.  He would have been a good cowboy.


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He Knows Me

A couple of days ago Dave and I went to the post office.  I went to the first teller to mail my package.  He went to a teller two spaces over.  Neither of them knew we were together.

Dave was buying sheets of stamps.  Since there was nobody else in the post office his teller offered to show him the newest stamp, beautiful flowers.

Dave:  No, my wife doesn't like flowers.

Teller:  Are you sure?

Then she thumbed through other sheets.  Up came Johnny Cash stamps.

Dave:  She likes Johnny Cash.

After a little more flipping she came up with Rosa Parks stamps.


Dave:  She likes Rosa Parks.  

Teller:  Your wife likes Johnny Cash and Rosa Parks but doesn't like flowers?  Are you sure?

Dave:  Yes, I know my wife.  I'm sure!


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Hershey Bars

Last night - Halloween - we made our annual trip to my son and his family's wide front porch where friends and family gather to greet Trick or Treaters.

For the last several years my son has handed over a full sized Hershey Bar to every child in the long parade of scary folks coming by the porch.

It, at first, seemed extravagant to me, but he loves every minute of it.  He considers it a spiritual experience.  He gives bottled water to tired and thirsty parents.

Last night he gave 500 Hershey Bars, (one per Trick or Treater) then the bags of candy others of us brought with us, for a total of over 600 kids in about two and a half hours.  He gave bottled water to 200 thirsty adults.

I had a wonderful Halloween again this year, but I haven't had a Hershey Bar several decades.  "Dark" is now my chocolate of choice.   But I do have a very favorite Hershey Bar experience.

In the late 1960s my husband, Ken, and our two very small children lived in a country parsonage in North Georgia while Ken was in seminary at Candler School of Theology at Emory University in Atlanta.  One or two nights a week all four of us commuted to the Emory campus to stay in a single dorm room.  We had one double bed.  The kids slept beside us in sleeping bags.  In one corner was a tiny stove with one burner, a sink and tiny refrigerator.  Dishes and utensils were extremely limited.  It was a challenge to prepare meals but it was fun.

One of our favorite treats was chocolate cake.  Do you remember when cake mix that you would mix with water and bake in it's own foil lined box was introduced?   It made four small squares of chocolate cake.   While it was still warm and we were finishing our supper, we placed two unwrapped Hershey Bars on the warm cake.

When we had cleaned up after supper and were ready for a treat - the four squares of melted Hershey Bar covered cake were perfect!


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