Ahhh…the good old days when this meant cleaning out closets and drawers, washing windows, moving the winter clothes to make room for the summer wardrobe, hauling trash and more trash to the landfill, getting reacquainted with the Goodwill folks. Fast forward to my minimalist golden years and spring cleaning mostly involves dusting and reducing my flipflop inventory.
At least, that’s the story inside the house. The outside is an entirely different animal. It’s a jungle out there…literally.
I believe in liberal mulching but there are weeds in Florida that would grow to be six feet tall under three feet of mulch. They’re not only under the mulch but they somehow are able to grow through the pavers in the driveway and the lanai. One year, we came back to find our lanai covered with weeds no less that three feet tall. Hence, our move to permanent status.
I seriously try to keep up with the weed removal albeit by spray via Roundup, which is about to be outlawed, especially, after the 80 million settlement awarded to the man that linked his cancer to the weed spray. I have great empathy for him and I am not happy or proud that I’ve become chummy with the dreaded Roundup. But, I need an effective substitute. The search is on.
Meanwhile, after nearly eight months on unbridled growth, the bushes are out of control. Out come the pruning shears and the loppers and the trimmers. I am a wild woman with these tools. Why cut off a foot when you can cut off four feet?!! Buff Honey goes into hiding when I’m on a trimming tear. The formerly lush hibiscus and scheffleras and bougainvilleas resemble a little boy after he’s had a summer buzz cut. Just a bit of a scalping. But three days later, there’s new growth aplenty.
Then, there are the ants. OMG! I hate these things. Unfortunately, we have some major infestations around our house, mainly, hidden under mounds of dirt. They love me. They live for when I’m pulling up weeds or putting down mulch or trimming the undergrowth. I can be wearing men’s leather gloves and long pants but they will jump on me and bite through whatever I’m wearing.
Next thing, you know, I’m going crazy trying to rub them off and howling like a banshee. The sting is so horrible, I have to jump into the pool with all my clothes on! These little black fire ants are lethal. They leave welts, puss-filled sores all over my legs and arms. I still have scars to remind me of their toxicity.
BH is a pure naturalist. “Leave them alone,” he pleads. Of course, he doesn’t believe in weeding, trimming or edging. I’m making progress in that direction but not with the ants. I checked our garage for a potent ant killer but no luck. Home Depot here I come. I am not about to feel any guilt about those obnoxious little pests.
I’m almost finished with all the weeding and the trimming. I have to set goals because I cannot possibly do the whole job in a day or two. I start in the front and gradually make my way around all four sides of the house. I’m three quarters of the way complete. BH is the best. I just leave my cuttings all over the yard and he comes behind me and dumps everything in the garbage for recycling day.
There’s one side I haven’t even begun to tackle. And there’s a reason for that. I had to order a pair of heavy work boots from Amazon. Why, you ask? Because my neighbor on that side, who is way too close to all things wild and natural, told us there is a SIX FOOT BROWN SNAKE that frequents our yards.
I can just see it. I’m crawling around on my hands and knees clearing weeds and overgrown bushes and I happen upon this thing! Maybe the work boots will give me the backbone I’m lacking. And, then, again, maybe not. I’m working up to it. No gators yet, though!
Thursday, March 28, 2019
Thursday, March 21, 2019
Vernal Equinox
A very special day, indeed. At least, for me. March 20th is the day the love of my life passed on to another world. The fact that he died on the first day of spring is perfect in a way. The beginning of new life. The end of suffering and pain.
It’s been 23 years ago now, but I always spend part of that day in meditation, reflecting on the beautiful life we had together. Truly each other’s best friends, a bulwark against the greatest crisis a union must endure.
I also celebrate our children. The fact that they lost him at such tender and vulnerable ages. Chelsea had just turned 11 and Justin was a month away from turning 13. I often wonder how they coped with the fact that their father died of AIDS in an era when AIDS was whispered about behind closed doors. An era when children were refused entrance to school if they’d been exposed to the disease.
I don’t know exactly what their friends knew or didn’t know but I do know this. The day he died, Chelsea’s entire girl scout troop showed up at our house. At his funeral, over 70 children attended. Justin’s friends were nothing if not protective of him, including one friend who attacked another for going after Justin. He had to be suspended but his teachers were secretly applauding. I never knew of one person who shunned our children.
I reflect on the fact that if Kevin had been able to hang on for another six months, he might’ve been able to survive to live a much longer life. The cocktail was in the final stages of development when he succumbed.
Both of our children went on to have periods of personal turmoil afterwards. Chelsea, in a moment of crisis, walked out of school. She asked for help. Justin, on the other hand, refused help often self medicating to diminish his personal pain. But not only did they survive, they thrived and no mom could be prouder of all of her children than I am. Especially, knowing what they have endured.
It is also a day for counting my blessings and being grateful for the abundance of love that surrounds me. At this age, every day I am healthy and of sound mind is cause for celebration!
And, so, on this day, I always plan on doing something fun to remember life is for living. Last night was no exception. Dinner for six at the Crow’s Nest with two of my Danish Minnesota cousins and their beautiful wives. A very special occasion on a day filled with precious memories. To Family!!
It’s been 23 years ago now, but I always spend part of that day in meditation, reflecting on the beautiful life we had together. Truly each other’s best friends, a bulwark against the greatest crisis a union must endure.
I also celebrate our children. The fact that they lost him at such tender and vulnerable ages. Chelsea had just turned 11 and Justin was a month away from turning 13. I often wonder how they coped with the fact that their father died of AIDS in an era when AIDS was whispered about behind closed doors. An era when children were refused entrance to school if they’d been exposed to the disease.
I don’t know exactly what their friends knew or didn’t know but I do know this. The day he died, Chelsea’s entire girl scout troop showed up at our house. At his funeral, over 70 children attended. Justin’s friends were nothing if not protective of him, including one friend who attacked another for going after Justin. He had to be suspended but his teachers were secretly applauding. I never knew of one person who shunned our children.
I reflect on the fact that if Kevin had been able to hang on for another six months, he might’ve been able to survive to live a much longer life. The cocktail was in the final stages of development when he succumbed.
Both of our children went on to have periods of personal turmoil afterwards. Chelsea, in a moment of crisis, walked out of school. She asked for help. Justin, on the other hand, refused help often self medicating to diminish his personal pain. But not only did they survive, they thrived and no mom could be prouder of all of her children than I am. Especially, knowing what they have endured.
It is also a day for counting my blessings and being grateful for the abundance of love that surrounds me. At this age, every day I am healthy and of sound mind is cause for celebration!
And, so, on this day, I always plan on doing something fun to remember life is for living. Last night was no exception. Dinner for six at the Crow’s Nest with two of my Danish Minnesota cousins and their beautiful wives. A very special occasion on a day filled with precious memories. To Family!!
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Shape Up
I have been all over the map when it comes to my food intake. As a child, I probably took in more protein from biting my nails than actual food. I was exceptionally anxiety ridden. Yes, there was a lot of conflict in my house, mainly due to the fact that my mom’s moods were totally unpredictable. I never had a clue which mother was waiting for me on the other side of the door when I got off the school bus.
I didn’t have much of an appetite nor much appreciation for my mom’s meager skills in the kitchen. Until I moved to New England, I thought everyone ate Chef Boyardee spaghetti. Scrambled eggs made me throw up every morning. I still can’t eat them. Needless to say, I was ridiculously skinny.
So much so that my mom took me to the doctor and tried to follow his recommendation: a milkshake mixed with an egg nightly. Couldn’t even drink half of it. When I was actually hungry, I’d down a family size bag of potato chips in one sitting.
All of this to say, I never knew much about nutrition except what I learned through my high school home economics classes. I did pick up cooking later and can do it well, but I’ve never been a huge fan of cooking and now with so many options, I wonder, what’s the point?
My own kids will tell you I made nightly meals, until I became a principal and then I was so exhausted, we either ate out or ordered in. Sad to say, we set the record for most pizzas ordered from Domino’s in Columbia, Maryland. Miraculously, they are all amazing cooks who serve nutritious meals daily!
I never weighed over 100 pounds until I was in my mid-30s, after my last two were born 20 months apart. By then, I was a pretty happy person, calm and steady as a rock, anxiety a thing long forgotten. Never having to watch my weight was a blessing until I hit 40 and then it was a curse.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t lose those last 10 pounds no matter how much I worked out or paid my money to Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. They all say you’ll feel full if you just follow their diet. Nope. All wrong. I was hungry all the time and that is not a good thing at 10 o’clock at night.
On someone as short as me, just over 5 feet tall, a few extra pounds is equivalent to DUMPY! My grandmothers, both as short as me, never lost the weight. This is my heritage. Even my oncologist years ago told me to lose the weight.
Fast forward thirty plus years later and I’m still at it. Okay, I know I’m not obese, but God knows I’d love to shed those last ten. My cousin, Jay, has been doing this intermittent fasting thing for at least three years now and the last time I saw him I told him to start eating. Maybe misery could use a little company here.
It works for him because he is disciplined. I am not so disciplined. This past year was the worst. We were traveling much more than usual so my usual routine went right out the window. Eating out is not smart.
Last week, we were on a cruise. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!! Eating is what cruises are all about. That and spending money on high end excursions and shops. I am not crazy enough to buy a Coach bag on the Allure of the Seas. Needless to say, I ate like a queen. Salmon, lobster tail, steak, potatoes. Yes, I threw in some fruit and a few salads with blue cheese dressing. But, not nearly enough to offset the all but certain weight gain.
Got home Sunday, weighed myself early Monday morning. And, there it was, in black and white. A few more pounds and I knew I'd have to assert myself. I had to dig deep into that well of discipline, but I am determined to get it off asap!
Here’s the plan. I write down everything I eat in my Lose It! App including my daily exercise routine. Go back on the intermittent fasting which commits me to a maximum of 500 calories three days a week. And, most importantly, I go back on my No Chips, No Fries, No Booze diet.
So far, so good. I’ve lost 3 pounds in 4 days. How long I can stay on this is anyone’s guess, but I’m inspired by my cousin’s success. I’ll keep you posted!
I didn’t have much of an appetite nor much appreciation for my mom’s meager skills in the kitchen. Until I moved to New England, I thought everyone ate Chef Boyardee spaghetti. Scrambled eggs made me throw up every morning. I still can’t eat them. Needless to say, I was ridiculously skinny.
So much so that my mom took me to the doctor and tried to follow his recommendation: a milkshake mixed with an egg nightly. Couldn’t even drink half of it. When I was actually hungry, I’d down a family size bag of potato chips in one sitting.
All of this to say, I never knew much about nutrition except what I learned through my high school home economics classes. I did pick up cooking later and can do it well, but I’ve never been a huge fan of cooking and now with so many options, I wonder, what’s the point?
My own kids will tell you I made nightly meals, until I became a principal and then I was so exhausted, we either ate out or ordered in. Sad to say, we set the record for most pizzas ordered from Domino’s in Columbia, Maryland. Miraculously, they are all amazing cooks who serve nutritious meals daily!
I never weighed over 100 pounds until I was in my mid-30s, after my last two were born 20 months apart. By then, I was a pretty happy person, calm and steady as a rock, anxiety a thing long forgotten. Never having to watch my weight was a blessing until I hit 40 and then it was a curse.
All of a sudden, I couldn’t lose those last 10 pounds no matter how much I worked out or paid my money to Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig. They all say you’ll feel full if you just follow their diet. Nope. All wrong. I was hungry all the time and that is not a good thing at 10 o’clock at night.
On someone as short as me, just over 5 feet tall, a few extra pounds is equivalent to DUMPY! My grandmothers, both as short as me, never lost the weight. This is my heritage. Even my oncologist years ago told me to lose the weight.
Fast forward thirty plus years later and I’m still at it. Okay, I know I’m not obese, but God knows I’d love to shed those last ten. My cousin, Jay, has been doing this intermittent fasting thing for at least three years now and the last time I saw him I told him to start eating. Maybe misery could use a little company here.
It works for him because he is disciplined. I am not so disciplined. This past year was the worst. We were traveling much more than usual so my usual routine went right out the window. Eating out is not smart.
Last week, we were on a cruise. ARE YOU KIDDING ME??!! Eating is what cruises are all about. That and spending money on high end excursions and shops. I am not crazy enough to buy a Coach bag on the Allure of the Seas. Needless to say, I ate like a queen. Salmon, lobster tail, steak, potatoes. Yes, I threw in some fruit and a few salads with blue cheese dressing. But, not nearly enough to offset the all but certain weight gain.
Got home Sunday, weighed myself early Monday morning. And, there it was, in black and white. A few more pounds and I knew I'd have to assert myself. I had to dig deep into that well of discipline, but I am determined to get it off asap!
Here’s the plan. I write down everything I eat in my Lose It! App including my daily exercise routine. Go back on the intermittent fasting which commits me to a maximum of 500 calories three days a week. And, most importantly, I go back on my No Chips, No Fries, No Booze diet.
So far, so good. I’ve lost 3 pounds in 4 days. How long I can stay on this is anyone’s guess, but I’m inspired by my cousin’s success. I’ll keep you posted!
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