A day at Manasota Beach.

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I visited my older sister Pat Boehme, in Port Charlotte Florida for a weekend to getaway from the stress of my pending divorce. Pat has a home on a traffic circle and that circle was enlarged over the past year. She lost some of her property to the expansion project and had to live with her front yard being a construction zone. Now my life is a construction zone.

We decided to get away to Manesota Beach which is north of Port Charlotte. The beach is accessed by a small coastal road that has water visible on both sides One side had mansions on the inter-coastal waterway, and the other side had mansions on the ocean. We joked about which mansion would suit our lifestyles the best. Pat had a cooler, beach umbrella and beach chairs, so we were set for the afternoon. Getting all that from the parking lot to the beach was it’s own adventure. The cooler had wheels, but that doesn’t help much in tall grass or sand. I ended up hugging it to my chest to get it to our beach oasis.

The water was warm and comfortable. We swam and floated for hours. The water must have been super saline, because I was able to float on my back for the first time ever. Usually my 12 inch big feet sink like lead weights. The two women next to us were debating about exercise and diet. The woman in the pink bikini top outlined her extensive daily exercise routine, while the other woman felt it was more important to simply watch her calorie intake.

Foreigners waded face down with snorkel masks just off shore looking for sharks teeth. Apparently fossilized sharks teeth are a common find at Manasota Beach. One Australian was face down in the water the entire time that Pat and I were there. When he final sloshed out of the water, we could see that his back was a bright fire engine red. He was going to be hurting that night. A little boy lost hold of his inflatable mini canoe. The wind caught it, sending it out into the ocean. He chased it until the water got too deep, and then watched it until it became a speck on the horizon.

Thanksgiving at home.

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My sister Pat Boehme drove to Orlando from Port Charlotte to spend Thanksgiving with Terry and I. We sat around the dining room table going over old family photos. Pat was able to identify some people that to had not been able to identify. For thanksgiving all went to Mitchell’s Fish Market (460 N Orlando Ave #122, Winter Park, F) in Winter Park Village. The reservation was for 2pm and at that time, the restaurant was less than half full. Driving on Thanks giving Day was an absolute joy because there were no of the cars on the road. Orlando was a ghost town.

Mitchel’s had a traditional Thanksgiving diner for $27. The appetizer, had was a seafood gumbo the was absolutely delicious. Honestly I was satiated after the gumbo, but the turkey dinner was so good, that I managed to wolf half of it down. Desert was a slice of pumpkin pie. Terry had purchase an apple pie and a pumpkin pie a Publix, and we had baked the pumpkin pie the night before, so I knew there as a whole pie cooling down at home. After going out for dinner, we sat around the living room watch in movies and trying to digest all the food. Pat’s Stomach started rumbling and we didn’t have any Pepto-Bismol, so we gave her a heating pad to put on her tummy and that seemed to help.

Terry had rented two movies. On was “Far from the Madding Crowd” this is definitely a Victorian Era woman’s film. The female lead planed by Carey Mulligan  meets three men each of which asks for her hand in marriage almost immediately. Life just doesn’t work that way, although maybe it did way back then. Pat and I watched the film while we waive for Terry to gel home, then after our Thanksgiving meal Terry wanted to watch the film. That is when I got my sketch done for the day. 

The Orlando Magic against the Milwaukee Bucks.

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On the day after Thanksgiving, Terry got tickets to the Orlando Magic Game at the Amway Center. She wanted to treat my sister Pat Boehme who was visiting for the holiday. The Magic were going to play the Milwaukee Bucks. Terry had access to the Bank of America Box which could accommodate 16 individuals. The box is usual used to impress prospective clients. This was the first time I was invited. we got there a hour early and parked in Terry’s work lot. I had forgotten my sketchbook, so I did this sketch on the back of the tickets. Kim Buchheit a dear friend was also invited and she livened up the box by cheering shouting and dancing in the aisles. A financial advisor from the Winter Park office had three of his clients, and a co-worker of Terry’s was there with a friend  and his wife. There was also a well dressed Indian couple seated right in front of me. I sat at a counter which was a perfect little surface to sketch on.

There was complimentary pulled pork sandwiches and beers in the refrigerator. I just sipped Pepsi to get my nervous lines jumping. A large indoor blimp circled the stadium as the players warmed up. In the first quarter, the scores stayed rather close. I recall the score being tied at 43 to 43. Then the Magic started pulling ahead. My sketch was finished by half time, so I relaxed in the second half and just watched the game. The stadium was maybe half full and there was a lackluster energy through the whole game. I rather prefer to watch the antics of the Magic mascot who would wander through the crowd every quarter and throw a whipped cream pie in the face of the first fan he saw wearing a Milwaukee T Shirt.  He tended to hit fans in the bad row of the first section. I pointed out two of the unlucky fans in my sketch.

The final score was 114 to 90 with the Orlando Magic winning the game. Last year the Magic only won 25 games with 57 losses. It was an embarrassing season. This year with 8 wins and 8 losses, they are having a much better season. Perhaps if the wins keep happening the Orlando fans might work up some energy. They tended to shout louder for the free T shirt cannons then for the team on the court.

16th hole at the Bay Hill Invitational

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On March 22nd Jesse Newton invited me to a Green Party at the 16th hole of the Bay Hill Invitational. My North Bay neighborhood is right near the Bay Hill Country Club, so we were issued neighborhood access passes for the car to guarantee we would not be turned away since parking for the golf event is a logistical nightmare. My sister Pat Boehme was in town to go to my gallery opening. Mark Baratelli of The Daily City was up for an adventure as well, so the four of us drove towards South Bay and thanks to the neighborhood car passes we were able to drive through check points and avoid traffic tie ups.

The South Bay home was absolutely gorgeous. It was a casual but very fashionable affair. A bar was set up behind the home next to the pool. Many of the people at the party were restaurant and bar owners and it was a crowd of beautiful people. Right behind the pool deck, a small grassy hill sloped down toward a small pond. Just beyond the pond was the 16th hole. I ordered a soda and turned my back to the golf because I needed to sketch the beautiful people. One woman had a white paddle with “Quiet” written on it. Whenever an important putt was about to happen she would raise the paddle and hush the revelers. Once the ball was in the hole the party conversations would fire back up with plenty of laughter and joking. The “Quiet” sign holder posed provocatively for me several times but I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold the poses long. I sketched her when she least expected it. Several times during the party the “Quiet” paddle was used like a fraternity butt spanker.

A short path to the left lead to a spot right next to a TV camera tower where the putting action could be viewed from up close. It was possible to get closer to the action than any of the spectators on the greens behind their ropes. I glanced over my shoulder periodically when I heard the crowd on the green murmur or applaud. But honestly, the gorgeous people on the hill captured most of my attention. Mark and I joked about how this must be what it feels like to be part of the “in” socialite crowd.

A women introduced herself and watched me work for a while. She analyzed my composition and decided that the woman in the black tights and shapely hips was the primary focus of the sketch, the rest was just supporting detail. I laughed. “Guilty as charged” I had to admit.With the sketch done, Terry, Pat and I retired to a shady spot in the pool area. I had to sit in the direct sunlight to get the sketch, so my neck got sunburned. I have no idea who won the golf tournament. The last balls plopped into the holes and the golf greens slowly cleared as the sun set. With so much to see and sketch the tournament scores were the least of my concerns.

Peace River Seafood

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Terry, Pat and myself went to Peace River Seafood, 5337 Duncan Road, Punta Gorda, FL, on the day after Thanksgiving. This small roadside crab shack is a real gem. Outside live crabs were being sold almost off the boat. Inside signed dollar bills littered the walls woven into fishing nets. It was a cold day and we had a tough time finding a table without a draft. I had to move away from the door since a cold wind was blowing off the river. I ordered a fish sandwich and Pat ordered something light.

Terry however couldn’t resist getting a big plate of crabs. The waitress demonstrated a technique of breaking the shells using a carefully placed knife and hammer blow.  The incision had surgical accuracy. Terry however enjoyed simply bashing the shell with the hammer. Every morsel had to be wrestled from it’s shell. Terry is a slow eater anyway but this process slowed her down enough so that I had time to finish my sandwich and do a sketch. If we return, I will definitely get the crabs because Terry absolutely loved hers. In the end she couldn’t even finish what was on her plate. The carnage was everywhere, but she was satiated.

We also visited several antiques stores this day. The strangest thing we saw was a half sized animatronic Santa that sang and wiggled his hips. The Santa creeped Terry out. None of us found anything worth buying. I was on the lookout for vintage fountain pens but didn’t see one.

A Cracker Barrel Thanksgiving

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For Thanksgiving, Terry and I drove to Port Charlotte to visit my sister Pat Boehme. Pat has been on a diet and ultimately lost an incredible amount of weight. I had to take a health assessment for my insurance company and the results came back with big red X’s for each result right before the holidays. My body mass index showed that I am overweight. I need to reduce my waist circumference by two inches. My blood pressure showed that I am prehypertensive which puts me at risk for a heart attack or a stroke. Oddly my total cholesterol is too low, indicating I am malnourished or anemic. Put simply I am a  train wreck waiting to happen.

I asked my sister for advice on how I should change my diet and she gave me tons of pointers. She had a medical condition that actually kept her from exercising, so all the weight she lost was from carefully watching her calorie intake. The rules are pretty simple, less sugar and no breads with tons of vegetables.  Right now however the house is full of leftover food from a New Year’s Day party. That means we have tons of beers, sodas, potato chips, pastries and other assorted junk food. Dieting will have to wait until the fridge is purged.

Rather than cook a large Thanksgiving dinner, we all decided to go out to Cracker Barrel on Thanksgiving day. It is amazing how many people had the same ides. The parking lot was jammed and there was a long wait to get a table. The long front porch of the restaurant is lined with rocking chairs and most were full. Towards the end of the porch, we sat across from these teens sitting in baby sized rocking chairs playing a game of checkers. When we ultimately got to our table, Terry and I took turns playing with a game that was like checkers using golf tees inserted into holes drilled into a triangle shaped piece of wood. With only one tee missing the goal was to try and eliminate all but one tee by jumping over other tees thus eliminating them. I’m convinced the game is impossible to win. Terry and I always had three or more tees left over.

The Thanksgiving dinner had all the fixings and was quite delicious. I had to admire the efficiency with which all the comfort food was served. Pat ordered a light fish dish, keeping to her diet.  I wish I had the ability to turn away from the trimmings. No more stuffing!

Christmas Eve

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On Christmas Eve, we all sat in my sister Pat Boehme‘s living room in Punta Gorda sipping wine and watching TV. Terry multi-tasked on her iPhone, while Pat and Mike Napolitano watched Wheel of Fortune. There was a recent controversy with this show when a  holiday-themed puzzle that featured a line from the Christmas Carol
“The 12 Days of Christmas,” was solved correctly by contestant Renee as
“Seven Swans A-Swimming.” She gave something of a lazy answer, however, and failed to clearly
enunciate the “G” at the end of the phrase, saying “Seven Swans
A-Swimmin’”. (Her clues were the letters “SE_EN S_ _NS A-S_ _MM _NG” —
note the “G” was revealed on the board, so she knew it was there.) But The Powers That Be behind the wheel buzzed Renee’s answer and deemed it incorrect. The puzzling ruling has created an uproar on the Internet with many viewers claiming that it was unfair.

The news was about some ex-convict who set fire to his mothers home and then he ambushed first responder firemen, killing two of them before he shot himself.  This is why I don’t watch the news if I can help it. When the sketch was done, I watched the Frank Capra classic, “It’s a Wonderful Life”. That film always gets me. Christmas Day Pat prepared an amazing Turkey Dinner with all the trimmings. Pat and I drove over to visit her son, David Boehme who lives in a trailer park a few miles away. He has just graduated college and has started the daunting task of trying to find a job. Pat gave me a cute little “Charlie Brown Christmas Tree” but unfortunately the single red ornament broke on the drive home.

Punta Gorda Christmas

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Terry and I drove to my sister’s home in Punta Gorda on Christmas Eve. The roads through the center of the state were quiet. We drove through large orange groves and past large juicing factories. 16 wheel trucks were loaded to overflowing with oranges. Some of the fruit actually rolled down the pyramid peaks and down to the street gutters when the trucks hit rough pavement. My sister Pat Boehme and her boyfriend Mike Napalitano had a beautifully decorated artificial tree in their living room. On Christmas Day, Pat gave me a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. It was basically an artificial twig mounted on two planks and one red Christmas bulb.

On the day after Christmas, Pat and Terry wanted to go shopping in downtown Punta Gorda. Our first stop was Pat’s Chiropractor’s office. This large Community Christmas Tree was right across the street. I sat on a public bench and started sketching. Some of those ornaments were the size of basketballs. After Pat’s adjustment, she and Terry drove to a railroad station antiques store. I had sketched the railroad station before so I stayed behind studying the Christmas Tree and sketching as fast as I could. I figured when they were done shopping, my sketch would be done. Some guy exiting the chiropractors office looked over my shoulder and said, “You certainly found a wonderful way to relax this holiday.” I was anything but relaxed.

Thanksgiving

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For Thanksgiving, Terry and I drove down to Port Charlotte to visit my sister Pat Boehme. The two hour drive was surprisingly care free. Terry slept most of the way down as I drove. We were surprised we didn’t hit traffic around Disney or near Tampa. Zorro, our umbrella cockatoo, made the trip as well, hanging upside down from the bars in his travel cage most of the way. When we arrived, Pat told us that the turkey was ready. She had prepared a delicious traditional feast. I love those crunchy bits she puts on top of the green beans. After several servings of turkey and stuffing, we all started to slow down.

I did dishes while Mike Napolitano showed Terry some of the new plants in the backyard. Then we all retired to the living room. Mike watched football games on TV. Terry reclined on the couch opposite me and drifted off in a tryptophan induced sleep. Zorro was happy as he could be perched on her knee.

The road Pat and Mike live on is going to soon be expanded with a traffic circle added to the corner they live on. When all the construction is done, their little slice of tropical paradise will have been decimated. Most of their side and front yard will be gone and the drainage ditch will be right next to the house like a medieval mote. They are afraid that the homes foundation might be compromised. They had hoped the town or county might buy the property so they could afford to move, but no offer has been made. An Orlando lawyer is now involved on the case.

Boiling the Cane

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Patrick Greene told me about his family’s tradition of harvesting and boiling cane in late November. I got up at the crack of dawn and drove east through downtown. There was a violent panic to the traffic as people rushed to their jobs in the city. I drove till the East West Expressway ended and then continued east. I missed the farm’s driveway on my first pass. I turned around in the parking lot to a natural preserve. I wasn’t sure how far to drive down the dirt road, so I followed it back to a barn. When I got out of my truck a hound dog let out a hollow howl. He was harmless, he came up and sniffed my hand.

A dozen men, many with cowboy hats, sat around several tables swatting flies. I asked for Patrick and they directed me back to the house at the road. I drove back. Patrick greeted me at the front door. His mother was in the living room and she apologized for the mess although everything looked in it’s place to me. She is an artist herself and she pointed to several rendered pencil drawings that she had done. They were framed and looked good against the dark wood paneling.

Patrick walked back to the barn with me and introduced me around as “the artist.” The cane had already been harvested. Then joked that we should have gotten up much earlier to help with that. The cane was crushed by a mechanical crusher and the sweet liquid was gathered. My sister Pat Boehme had some cane growing in her yard in Port Charlotte. I asked to cut a stalk so I could see how it tasted raw. I cut out the soft inner pulp and chewed on it. Raw cane is delicious but once the initial burst of flavor passed, I had to spit out the chewed pulp. A neighbor said that as a child, he was given raw cane as a treat instead of candy.

Back in the barn a large cauldron full of cane juice was boiling. Thirteen rows of cane were not harvested since they had plenty of cane juice for the boil. The heat was intense and the steam rose. Several men were always on hand to skim the surface removing the debris and thin film that rose to the surface. All morning the furnace blazed. An inner metal cylinder was placed inside the cauldron and mesh was wadded up and inserted around the edge to soak up more of the film. A breeze began wafting the steam away. Several men tacked up a green drop cloth to block the breeze. It seemed the steam needed to linger and rise straight up for the boil to be most effective. By the end of the day all that would be left was a thick syrup which the women would bottle. This is a true old Florida tradition, a look at an art form that is fading away in our fast paced times.