Hope springs eternal. . . .

Why, oh why, do I buy a lotto ticket?

Because I have big plans for what I will do with those multi-millions when I win them.  Starting with paying off all of grandson Adam's and his wife's school loans, my condo mortgage, etc. etc.  I've already decided I am going to purchase me a 2-bedroom suite on that ocean liner that sails constantly around the world.  I'll set up a calendar for who gets to sail with me, when you will get on and where you will have to get off, because my next friend is waiting. "You get on in Nice, France, and get off in Barcelona, Spain."  That sort of thing. I promise I'll be a wonderful hostess and traveling companion.

The reason I am ranting is because I just checked the numbers on the ticket I bought yesterday at Publix on my way out of the store.  I refuse to spend more than $1 at a time on a QuickPick.  Makes you think I don't hav much confidence in winning, doesn't it? 

Once again I don't have a single matching number.  They should give a booby prize for pickers like me.  I am practically professional at not picking a single matching number.  I mean really, not a single one?  Jeez, gimme a break.

Has anyone you know ever actually won one of these things?  Maybe I have to travel to some remote little North Florida town and stop at some tumble down 7 Eleven one of these days.  Those always seem to be the only places that manage to sell winning tickets to the Florida Lottery.

I've got a birthday coming in October and a few mil would make a lovely birthday gift, don't you agree?  Any one out there have some lucky numbers I can borrow?????.  You can be the first guest in my round-the-world ship suite, if you do.
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A word about voting this November. . .

Last week marked the 94th anniversary of the passage of the 19th Amendment, the congressional act that gave woman the right to vote.  My mother taught my sister and me that voting was a sacred trust because she well remembered how important that right was to her mother and to her.

My mother was born in the United States, but her mother came to America as a very young woman from the town of Gyngos in Hungary.  Her proudest days were when she became an American citizen and that historic moment in 1920 when she cast her first vote. Mother told us how she took off from work on election day to accompany my grandmother to the polls because she knew there would be many people (read that as men) objecting to the ridiculous idea of women voting.  And object they did, hooting and hollering in a threatening manner as lines of proud women walked bravely up to the voting place for the very first time in our nation's history..

Democrat, Republican or Independent.  Man or woman. The right to vote is very precious. If you don't express your opinion at the ballot box this November, you have no right to complain.

Need I say more????
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Some wisdom from Maya Angelou

I've always admired Maya Angelou.  So when a friend sent me an e-mail this morning with a series of her remarkable quotes on life in general and women in particular, I had to pass some of them on to you, my faithful blog readers.  (Even if you're a guy and not a girl, they're still worth reading.)

I've selected some that reflect my own thoughts on the situation and particularly appealed to me.  Let me know if you agree!

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE.. . a past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age. . .

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE. . .a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.. .

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE. . one friend who always makes her laugh. . and one who lets her cry. . .

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE. . a feeling of control over her destiny. . .

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW. . how to fall in love without losing herslf. .

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW. . when to try harder. . and when to walk away. .

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW. . how to live alone. . even if she doesn't like it. . .

AND FINALLY. . .

BE YOURSELF. . .EVERYONE ELSE IS ALREADY TAKEN.

Way to go, Maya. . .you were one amazing lady!  Thanks for the memories.

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You gotta love animals. . . .

Ever had a lemur sit on your head? Had a white faced Capuchin monkey sit on your shoulder and lick your cheek, or allow a giant Seychelles turtle to munch on a carrot out of your hand?

I did all of the above on Sunday at Jungle Island, thanks to my friend Paul's daughter-in-law Augusta, who serves as head of Guest Relations at that remarkable tourist attraction on the MacArthur Causeway between Miami and Miami Beach.. Augusta assigned a young woman named Nina to guide us "back of the house" and the experience was fabulous. I'm not sure how many people have ever experienced sitting on the floor with a dozen furry little creatures leaping on, over and around you in their frantic search for food! food! more food!. The handful of chopped up apple we each had started with was gone in the first few seconds, but that didn't stop the onslaught, not for a minute.

Lemurs, I learned, are native to Madagascar, that strange endangered habitat in the middle of the Indian Ocean. I talk about all the endangered plant life in Madagascar during my tram tours at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, but these adorable little creatures were much more fun than any botanical wonder. As for the giant Seychelles turtle, Nina instructed me to only let him eat half way up the carrot. The turtle I fed obviously didn't get the memo. He opened wide and came down frighteningly close to my not so steady hand with one big crunch! By the way, both he and his companion are estimated to be 100+ years of age. There are no real records because they outlive everybody who keeps tabs on them.

If you love animals as much as I do, you will love a visit to Jungle Island, even if you don't get lucky enough to have a one-on-one with a loveable little lemur. If you are up for a private tour, be sure to ask for Nina. She's the best!
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Captions:
Above right: Feeding #85, the giant turtle

Left: Nina, our guide, with a Capuchin monkey

Right: Lemurs, lemurs, everywhere!

Below: Heads up! There's a lemur on my shoulder.

About growing old. . . . .

I've got to applaud the opening lines of a column in today's Miami Herald by a lady named Gina Barreca who is an English professor at the University of Connecticut, a feminist scholar, a writer of eight books and a columnist for the Hartford Courant.  It goes like this:

"I've lived my life with enthusiasm, courage, raucousness and passion.  Why on Earth would I want to grow old gracefully?"

Here, here, Ms. Barreca.  I'll drink to that!  Growing old gracefully is one of those phrases that we've heard so often we've come to think that must be the way to go. Sorry guys, sitting quietly on the sidelines, becoming contemplative and introspective while watching the rest of the world go by, just doesn't appeal to me.  As Ms. Barreca goes on to say, "Not only am I not going gentle into that good night, I don't plan to go gracefully into that late afternoon!"  In other words, I'm still here, folks. I may be an octogenarian these days, but I intend to live my life to the fullest as long as the good Lord and good health allows me to.

That's the reason why I truly enjoy volunteering and why I don't mind blowing my horn about the    fact that I continue to get paid to write websites and brochures for clients who find me on my website.  As I've mentioned many times before, my Mother's "writing gene" is the gift that keeps on giving!

After a certain age it is said that you finally become the indisputable authority on the subject of yourself.  I agree.  I am an adventurer.  Always have been and guess I always will be.  Never want to stop learning.  Never want to stop meeting new people and discovering something wonderful and interesting.

 It may not be graceful, but it's my personal version of how to grow older.  You know, I think I really will drink to that!
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Photo caption:  84 1/2 and counting.  Photo taken at Miami Lighthouse event two months ago.

Mango Mania. . .

It was International Mango Festival time again at Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden this past weekend.  I think they should rename this uber-popular event as "Delicious Chaos". . .it's a wild and crazy 48 hours, I can attest to that.

Once again I volunteered for the Mango Tasting Room, opting for the Sunday morning shift from 9AM to 1PM.  This year I was assigned to the table at the entrance where you paid your dollar to my fellow volunteer Dr. Jean Ross, (money goes to the Garden fund) and then got handed a ballot and a pencil and a quick spiel about voting for your three favorite varieties by yours truly. 

Needless to say, neither Jean nor I got to sit down or stop working frantically for four solid hours as an endess line of adults, kids and infants, some in arms and some in strollers, walked, skipped, and rolled on by, intent on geting to the tasting tables where big  bowls of diced mangoes, from Florida, Mexico, India and the "country of this year's Festival" Colombia, were waiting to be tasted and rated.   (A low bow to those ladies in the kitchen who had been slicing and dicing since I arrived at 8:30 and were still going strong when I left my station at 1.)

Not sure who the official winner was,  but I personally voted for the Malliki from India.  I highly recommend it. It is absolutely delicious.

Once my shift was over I was joined by two good friends, Sandy and Gill, who arrived in time for lunch. The variety of food stalls for this event is positively overwhelming. . suffice to say I chose Seafood Paella from a Cuban booth (could have lived without all those little octopussy things but otherwide delicious) , Gill had a Greek salad and some kind of meat dish from the Greek booth, and Sandy opted for a Nathan's Kosher hotdog.

After lunch we took a run through the Exotic Butterfly Garden, a truly magical experience, and stopped in for a few minutes at the Mango Auction, about to start in front of a packed audience in the Garden House.

At that point I began to realize I am no longer 21, and if I didn't get in my car and head for home, a cold shower, and bed, I was going to pass out.  It was a fun day but a definitely tiring one.  If you've never been to the Mango Festival, it's definitely worth putting on your schedule for next year.

The photos are courtesy of Sandy.  I was too tired by that time to focus.
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Photo captions:
Above:  The Mango Auction display

Left:  Gill, Sandy and the short person

How to impress your grandson in one easy lesson. . .

Post a photo of yourself hanging out with Pitbull in the bar at the Grove Isle Club.  Can't believe what a friendly nice guy this very famous guy is. 

Are you impressed?  My grandson was.