Homegoing

No, not like the dying kind and going home to Jeez-us....this is the going home to Maryland, my home for the past 30 years.  Although I am now officially a Florida residence and a Florida voter...can’t wait to see how that unfolds....it is now time to return to Maryland and my life there.

My better half and I have never done this.  Close up a home for six months and hope it’s  there when you return.  We have less than one week and we are in panic mode.

Last night, we hit the hot tub at 10:30, eating a couple of dark chocolates with orange cream filling...decadent but delicious.  Exhausted and crawling out of the spa, totally relaxed and ready for sleep.  He tossed and turned for over an hour and finally got up and read all the new homeowner instructions AGAIN, fretting over every detail.

We’ve engaged a pool service, a lawn service, a hurricane shutter service and the worst part is we have to leave the air conditioning on all summer.  We don’t even use air!!!  Supposedly, if we don’t, we’ll return to an overwhelmingly moldy house that will cost us way more than the air.  Trust me, we’re not happy about it, but.....ohhh, the hidden costs.

My panic involves the plants.  Will they die or thrive?  One of the pony tail palms still doesn’t look all that happy.  The Christmas palm has brown spot fungus.  There’s no one to spray the fungicide or insecticide for six months.  I painstakingly pluck off every dead leaf of every plant, dead head them as the blossoms fade, dig up every weed that grows through the mulch, spray weed killer between the driveway pavers.  They’re all in bloom now......waaaaahhh, I hate to leave them!

Gotta stop the newspapers, change the mailing address, close up the condo we rented and didn’t use, throw out the garbage and recycling, empty the refrigerator and pantry.
Definitely not the fun part.

But, it’s not all bad.  We got all these new homeowner coupons we have to use before we leave so our cars are clean...thank you, Eager Beaver Car Wash!  We hit Brew Burger for Happy Hour, got the free app and $2 beers. Ate our free gelatos at Ciao Gelato.  Last night was a decidedly cheap night at Daiquiri Deck....2 for 1 daiquiris and a pizza and with our $10 coupon, that came to $7!

After bridge yesterday, we walked West Venice Avenue, our equivalent of Main Street.  Our best find?  Wine tasting at Bonnell’s Boutique & Winery....trust me, I didn’t need the daiquiri afterwards.  While the guy is tasting the wines, the gal can be getting a facial.  Really!  This gal was tasting the wines....tried to talk Buff Honey into the facial but he wasn’t having any part of it.  Walked out with six bottles and an Albert Wine-Stein tee shirt.  The best wines???  Made in St. Pete, Florida....all citrus, no grapes, 10% alcohol.  Amazing stuff.

Now, we’re hitting the beach almost daily.  Gotta see our last sunsets on the Gulf, ride with the top down on Manasota Beach Road, hit Scoops, our favorite ice cream store.  Can’t miss another outing at Snook Haven, traveling down a long sand road ending on the Mayakka River, ordering fried pickles and grouper sandwiches, listening to live bluegrass under the oaks.

Every night, we follow the Baltimore Orioles on my Sports Tap app.  We watched the Orioles-Dodgers game on TBS and I was horrified to see the fans in Baltimore dressed in jackets, hats and gloves.  Noooo.....I’m not liking that but my guy reminds me it will be much warmer when we return next week.

There’s the annual Derby Day party at my daughter’s next weekend, a grandson’s 3rd birthday celebration, a bridge gala and tournament.  Family milestones coming...my son’s 30th.  A new grandchild being born in August...currently referred to as Gizmo on Facebook....I’m hoping for a more endearing moniker than that after birth.

I’m selling my house and you can imagine I’m really looking forward to all the work that goes along with that!  But, life is change. Life is renewal.

I think I’m ready for this Home Going!

Finally Floridian

Of course, I was born in Florida so I really am a native Floridian.  But, now I am a legit Floridian.  Not easy...not cheap!

I’ve been living in the state since January 1st.  Happy New Year to me!!!  It was always my intent to change my residence status.  Living here for six months and a day...essentially becoming a snowbird...was the plan.

The first week in January was filled with sunny, 80 degree beach days.  Buff Honey and I spent hours languishing in our beach chairs poring over newspapers and Randy Wayne White mysteries.  The perfect life.

Then, all hell broke loose!  He bought a house and we were propelled into hours of research on furniture, dishes, rugs, cooking utensils, garden tools....you name it, we didn’t have it.  We are now experts in “Cheap.”  We are Executive members of Costco.  We are known at Walmart, Big Lots, Goodwill, Home Goods and every other discount or consignment store within a 20 mile radius of Venice.

It wasn’t until March that I actually went online to see what I had to do to get a Florida driver’s license and to change my car registration.  The first red flag was all this had to be done within the first 10 days of moving.  Oh dear, I’ve broken the law already.

Then, I looked at the requirements.  I needed a social security card.  I don’t think I’ve had one since I was 20 years old.  Ahhhh....but I could bring my 1099 from the Feds which shows my SS number.  Check.

I also needed to bring two pieces of mail with my new residence on it.  Okay, fine.  I could bring my bank statement and my Maryland Retirement statement.  But, within 10 days of moving???  Plus, I moved twice within six weeks.  I have no rental agreement or utility bill.  This is not going to be easy.

Maybe, registering the car would be easier.  Nope.  No deal until I get a Florida license.  What else do I have to do?  I have to get car insurance in Florida.  My Maryland insurance will not transfer.  What???  Like I said, ‘not easy, not cheap.’  I swallow hard and lay out the cash for new car insurance.

I call the old insurance company.  No, they will not change my policy until I return the plates.  But, of course.  Now, I’m paying for two policies.  Great.

I need the title to the car.  I drag myself out to the car to see if it’s out there.  I have two rather distinct personalities.  Sometimes, I am incredibly organized.  I clean out my closet every year, sometimes twice a year.  I do not hang onto things I don’t use.  I really try to have order in my life.

My other personality is, sad to say, just clueless.  I have lost my cell phone countless times, once in a toilet bowl....don’t ask.  I lose keys, papers, books.  I don’t know what happens.  They just get swallowed up in a black hole.
With great trepidation, I look in the glove department to see which Brenda was in charge the day the title came in.  Woohoo!!!  Under all the Jiffy Lube receipts and roadmaps, I found it!  Thank God!  One less hoop to jump through.

I’m running out of time here.  Only two weeks until my return to Maryland.  I gather up all my papers and take them to the Sarasota County Tax Office.

The clerk asks me for my driver’s license, which I proudly hand over.  Then, she asks me for my birth certificate or passport.  WHAT???!!!  How did I miss that on the website? She hands me the blue flyer that lists the requirements and right there at the very top is Certified U.S. birth certificate or U.S passport.

Back to the drawing board.  Naturally, I have neither one of those things with me.  I immediately text my son...you know your kids are not going to the answer a phone call...”Call me ASAP.”  I know he’s teaching his math class, but he calls me in a great panic because he thinks I’m lying half dead at the side of a road or some other catastrophic scenario.

Okay, I know I scared him but sometimes that’s the only way you can get their attention, right??  Anyway, after he calms down, I tell him what I need.  I call him again after he gets home and he finds it exactly where I left it....again, the organized personality prevails!!

 I ask him what the expiration date is.  He says it’s expired.  NOOOOO!!!!  “Just kidding,” he says.  I want to kill him.  But, I need him to FedEx it to me....which he does.

I gather all my documents and return.  I’ve been thinking, “How am I going to explain that it’s April 18th and I’ve been here since January 1st?”  Not even close to the 10 day mark.  But, she doesn’t ask.  I hand her my license, my passport and my two pieces of mail.  Everything’s in order.

“Have you looked at the address from your Maryland Retirement statement?”  I look and there it is addressed to me at:  1988 Hammock Road, Venice, MD 34292.  I don’t even see it at first.  OMG!!!  It says Maryland, not Florida.

“Sorry, I have to get this approved by my supervisor.  You know how strict Florida is about issuing licenses to new residents.”

I’m dying here.  I can hear them talking in low tones about the address.  Finally, she reappears.  “You’re all set,” she says.

They take the required horrible photo; somehow, I pass the vision test, I pay them an exorbitant amount of money and I walk out of there with my Florida license and car registration.

Finally, I’m LEGIT!!!

Boston Massacre Redux

I can’t believe it....Boston.  Our country’s seat of liberty.  Home to Paul Revere, John Hancock, Sam Adams and his lesser known cousin, John.  Where the first cries came for freedom from the oppressors, the British.

It was in Boston that my love for American History was born...so much so that I returned to school to get certified to teach it.  I came of age when the teaching of history consisted of memorization of dates and events.  Basically, I dreaded the subject....until I visited Boston.

I walked the Freedom Trail; I fancied myself at Concord...home of the transcendentalist community.  Who can imagine anything more delicious than being in the company of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Thoreau and Amos Bronson Alcott, father of Louisa May and her delightful independent mother and sisters?

The first time I visited Boston I saw my first traffic circle, which terrified me as I had no idea what direction to go or where to get off.  Boston is not laid out in a grid like Washington or New York.  It’s nothing if not haphazard, at least to a small town girl like me.

I saw my first Hare Krishnas, chanting for a simpler, more natural and spiritual way of life.  I was attracted to their peaceful living but I was not interested in such an austerity.

Cambridge just lifted me to a higher place.  I could wear my Harvard sweatshirt and head to the street theatre or watch the brainiacs play chess in the Square.  When I learned my dear friend, Annie, was the daughter of a prominent Cambridge politician back in the day of “Honey Fitz” Fitzgerald, I was enthralled.  John Fitzgerald was the mayor of Boston and the father of Rose and the grandfather of his namesake, John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

Boston was magical in so many respects but also, unfortunately, known for the massive divide between the races.  I was puzzled by the lack of true integration that I took for granted in the North.  My God, I was from the South...Boston was home of the abolitionist movement.  How could this be?  It just seemed impossible.  But, biases linger for generations.

My first visit to Boston was in 1970...on the 200th anniversary of the Boston Massacre...where Crispus Attucks was the first African American sacrificed for the American Revolution.  And, now, Massachusetts led the way to enfranchise same-sex marriage, becoming the first state to recognize it on November 18th, 2003.

The Boston Marathon is an institution onto itself.  My former husband ran in it for years.  My three grown “kids” have run marathons albeit half-marathons.  They are all runners, I was a sprinter until I was 15 and had knee surgery and two more subsequently.  I never ran again.

Plus, they all have discipline.  They’re more focused than me.  But, I absolutely love supporting them.  I am there on the sidelines screaming out their names, clapping for all the runners.

I’ll never forget the look on my oldest daughter’s face when she passed me running a half marathon in Washington, D.C. two years ago.  She was running less than a year after giving birth to her second child.  Where she found the time and energy to train is totally beyond me.  Daily, she took the train to New York City, an hour and a half ride each way, working beyond the requisite eight hours.  After she returned home, she morphed into the quality time mommy, fixing meals, giving baths and reading stories at bedtime.

Pure Joy!  That’s the only way I can describe how she looked at me.  She was running her race and she was going to finish.  She was beaming.

And, I think of yesterday....all the runners, the hours of training, running their races.  I think of their friends and families, clapping and yelling their names, eagerly anticipating their finish.  And then the bombs start exploding....turning joy to horror.

Boston becoming Baghdad, where car bombings killed 31 people yesterday.  Did anyone know that???

I’m sick.  Heartsick.  The violence.  We need to step forward.  It needs to stop.

And, yet, the people we elect cannot find any agreement on stronger gun control.  They can’t even agree to ban semi-automatic assault weapons!  Minimal expectation, folks.  How these legislators can even look at the parents who lost their children at Sandy Hook Elementary is beyond my comprehension.

We are lost.

Florida's Underbelly

You’re probably thinking I’m going to write about the fact that there are more transients in Florida than anywhere else.  Or that the crime rate here is one of the worst in the country.  The Institute for Economics and Peace found that Florida was ranked the 4th most violent state after Louisiana, Tennessee and Nevada.  Not comforting is the fact that Maryland, my other home, was ranked 10th.

But, no, I’m talking about critters like snakes and gators and the dreaded bugs.  It’s April and they’re waking up!  I know that in parts of the country the word ‘spring’ is just that...a word.  April showers?  Nope.  April blizzards.

Not here, of course.  Yes, there have been sporadic showers but, mainly, there’s humidity.  Near 90 degrees and high humidity.  Still, I am determined NOT to turn on the air conditioning.  The windows are open, the ceiling fans are going day and night.  The pool is 83 degrees....perfectly refreshing.

When Buff Honey and I moved into this house, the builder had done the minimum landscaping in the front yard...two palms, one magnolia tree, one oak, one ti plant, and 50 ugly little juniper plants.....hated it!  Okay, I’ll keep the palms and the magnolia...everything else had to go.  My grandmother had a nursery, my brother and cousin are landscapers...in fact, my whole family loves have green thumbs.

How can anyone hate an oak tree?  Trust me, I have never seen such an ugly tree in my life...scrawny branches, sporadic leaves....I think Charlie Brown would’ve even rejected it.  Threw out every juniper...they tear up your skin and they just have no personality.

We wanted color...flowers that would bloom all winter long.  Fast growers, medium growers, slow growers.  Native plants to Florida.  We wanted it all.  And, we wanted it now because we had only a few months and then we were off and they were on their own.

And, the prices were insane to a Marylander!  Cheap, cheap, cheap!  Even the mulch was ridiculous.  I was determined to get rid of that hideous red mulch...sorry to offend any reader that loves it.  You know it’s bad when they’re selling it for 50 cents for 2 cubic feet!  I like the brown, which was almost 4 times as much.  Worth it.

The backyard was worse than the front...it had two of those ugly oaks, which I promptly replaced with Pony Tail Palms, a Christmas Palm and two Pygmy Palms....not to speak of shrubs that should grow tall enough to give us some privacy around the pool and lanai.  You ask, “Why do they need privacy?”  Think about it....mmmm....we’re not dead yet!  

We went nuts at Home Depot, Lowe’s and various nurseries....filling our cars with hibiscus plants, plumbagos, bougainvilleas, boxwoods, gardenias, oleanders, allamandas.  Color???  Oh, yeah....we got pink, red, salmon, blue, yellow, white...we are blooming!

Truth be known, I hate yard work.  It kills my back but it is soooo worth the effort!  And, now, I have this partner who loves transforming the yard.

All was just peachy until this week.  Some neighbor informed us that you can’t change the landscaping without getting it approved.  Another told us the covenants state you have to have at least two other kinds of trees besides palms.  Generally, I just ignore this stuff.  Can you really fine people for improving the landscape?  Come get me.

During my daily inspection, I noticed brown spots all over the Christmas Palm leaves....
noooooo.....a fungus is among us!  One of the hibiscus is getting leggy with half eaten leaves.  Uh oh....I see mealy bugs all over another one.

My windshield has fornicating love bugs all over it.

Okay, I’m staying cool.  I’m looking on the bright side.  The pool is finally warm enough for me to do my 50 minute water aerobics workout.  Woohoo!  I’m loving it.

“Sugar, I think you should come over here.”

“I’m doing my exercise.”

“I think you’re going to want to see this.”

Reluctantly, I go over to where he’s standing and he points to a snake swimming in our pool.

I scream my bloody head off!!!!

Never mind that it’s a black snake about 7 inches long....it’s a SNAKE!!!  I run into the house and slam the sliding glass doors.

So much for the wafting breezes, the gorgeous sunsets, the pristine beaches, the lazy days....when are we going home???!!!

Awkward Age

I bet you’re thinking....adolescence!  Yep, that’s awkward, all right.  Can’t deny that.  I spent most of my career teaching middle school and all I can tell you is that you better have an usual and very good sense of humor or you’re going to be an extremely frustrated human.

It used to slay me when teachers would yell at their students, “Act your age!!!”
Hello?!  That’s exactly what they’re doing.  My advice to teachers?  Be the adult in the room...never raise your voice or goad your students.  Find joy in the moment no matter how minute.

That may be the most obvious awkward age but not the only one.  Remember how difficult it was to launch into a career path from high school or college?  At least, that’s the way it was for me.  There are those individuals who have a Life Plan.  They know exactly what they want to be when they grow up and doggedly pursue those goals.

Not me.  No clue.  The women I saw were stay-at-home moms or teachers.  I saw nurses at the doctor’s office but they gave me shots.  I dreaded them.  The only other women I saw working were secretaries.  I really didn’t cotton to teaching, even though I was fond of reading to my paper dolls from the age of 5.  I was the fastest typist in my class, but being a secretary was never appealing.

Majoring in Religion and Philosophy didn’t assist me in my career search, although I swear it broadened my very narrow Southern perspective.  The day after I graduated from college, I married and started a family.  Eventually, I worked as a secretary and substitute teacher, returning to get my certifications in teaching and school administration.  Thus, launching my career in education at the age of 30....way behind my peers.

I dabbled in writing, acting, real estate sales, flower arranging, politics, but teaching gave me great health benefits and hours that allowed me more quality time with my children.  Besides, every year I fell in love with my students.  What could be better?

Now, I’ve reached another awkward stage...the stage that follows retirement.  What to do?  Many of my peers put off retirement because they’re conflicted.  Their lives have revolved around their jobs.  They get up to that alarm, trot off to work, put in their eight hours and go out to dinner (does anyone cook anymore?).

There’s a lot of time ahead of us.  Boomers are expected to live well beyond retirement age....the operative phrase being “Live Well.”  Most of us have lived very full lives.  Or maybe I should say we’ve filled our lives....with work schedules, our kids’ schedules, our workout schedules, our TV schedules, our social schedules.

And, now, we’re done with that.  For me, it’s time for Reflection....not something most of us have allowed ourselves to sink into.  I’m done with the Busy-ness.  It’s time to go inward.  Go on a journey.  Who knows where it will lead?

I want to wake up to the bobwhite who serenades me every morning.  I want to take my daily walk, clearing my head and readying myself for meditation.  I want to face my inner demons head on, daring them to take over my life.  I want to live in the moment, not regretting the past or fretting about the future.  I want to be grateful for life’s triumphs and even more grateful for life’s struggles.  I want to live in Joy.

This is my time to confront the Who, What, Where, When and How of Living Well.  Yes, sometimes it may be awkward, but could it be any more exciting?!

Bridge World

I’m writing this from the Marina Hilton in Ft. Lauderdale, site of this week’s regional bridge tournament.  Early April, temperature in the low 80’s, easy breezes, passing yachts to die for....although boats, in my opinion, are way too much work to ever be worth it.  Unless, of course, you’re rich enough to hire that out.  It appears to me they’re all over the top rich here...no one’s working on their boats.

There are thousands of people competing this week.  The American Contract Bridge League has over 150,000 members....most of them over the age of 50.  Bill Gates, an avid player, and Warren Buffett, one of his bridge partners, have ponied up God knows how much money to teach young people the game, since it’s just not a major part of our culture anymore.

I grew up in the South where women generally didn’t work outside the home and played ‘party’ bridge regularly.  My mother didn’t play but my grandmother and aunt did.  In fact, my grandparents hosted bridge weekly when they were young marrieds.  I learned how to play with my boyfriend at our youth minister’s home in Orlando.  I was 16 and from that point on, it was a passion for me.  I have no idea how I graduated from college, playing bridge far more frequently than attending classes.

And, then, life happened.  Career, raising kids...who has time to play cards?  I had a husband who had no interest in learning....nor did my kids, who are math whizzes, a plus for any bridge player.  I didn’t play for almost 25 years.

Life changed.  The kids grew up; I became a widow.  I was introduced to duplicate bridge which morphed into tournaments, playing with multiple partners until I found the perfect match...my guy, Buff Honey.

The Bridge World is dominated by men at the top of the game, and by women in the middle to lower ranks.  Many of them are single...either widowed or divorced.  And they’re looking to change their status.  It’s true.  I know because I was one of them.

You can find a great guy in this world.  They’re smart, nerdy and, occasionally, fun and good looking.  I hit the mother lode with my partner.

When we play two women, often they come to the table and size my partner up immediately.  They’re extra friendly to him, they look at my ring finger and his ring finger and carry on like I’m not even sitting there.  I’m just waiting for the inevitable.

“Are you two married?”

Happened yesterday and has happened several times before.  He is just absolutely clueless.  He has no idea they’ve been flirting with him for twenty minutes.  I kid you not.

“Why do you ask,?” I respond.

“Just wondering.”

Really???  You’re wondering if he’s available?  He’s not.  He’s the truest, bluest guy on the planet and he’s perfectly happy where he’s sitting.  Now, he’s thinking you’re rude  to ask that question and he’s inspired to beat your bridge butt.

And, I’m thinking...”What did they look like before they had all that work done?”