Sunday morning at the lake

SR and Karl live across the street from Lake Eola, in downtown Orlando.  Every Sunday morning there is a farmers market, which has evolved into just a general Sunday celebration.  We slept in, then went across to the park for lunch and peoplewatching.

Not everyone dresses this way.

Not everyone dresses this way.

 

I asked this guy “why?”.  He said they volunteer to clean up the park every Sunday, and were just having fun.  Who am I to argue with that?

His friend was there with him:

You could tell they are made for each other.

You could tell they are made for each other.

 

People sit in the park and listen to music much of the day–and that music is provided by one Joseph Martens, who plays gentle rock, sort of the slow parts of a Jimmy Buffett concert.  We completely enjoyed him:

 

Joseph Martens, entertainer to the masses

Joseph Martens, entertainer to the masses

 

You can get plenty of food here.  I had an Italian Sausage, Karl had lumpia, Gail and Susan had rice bowls, there were empanadas, hot dogs, crepes, corn cakes, cup cakes, and a goodly quantity of others I missed.

There is wine available, and a booth where for $10 you get a wrist band and can have all the mimosas (champagne and orange juice) you want until 4 pm.  That doesn’t seem like a good idea to me, but I guess it works.  Didn’t see anybody falling down drunk and the place stays in business, so I guess it’s a decent business model after all.

Pouring the mimosas all day for $10.

Pouring the mimosas all day for $10.

My posse demanded to be included:

They can be the Three Musketeers.  I'll be d'Artangnan.

They can be the Three Musketeers. I’ll be d’Artagnan.

 

Gail and Susan are spending the rest of the afternoon playing cards online, then we go to a play at a little theater in the next block.  Living the urban life means not having to take the car out to enjoy a walk in the park, a fine dinner and the theater.  I could get used to this.

 

 

 

 

 

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