Memorial Day

Waiting For Cue to Present Colors  

Before our son and his girlfriend arrived for a bike ride, we attended the Memorial Day service at the village green. Organized and presented by the Key B American Legion, it featured opening remarks by Mayor Mike Davey quoting Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, information from the Legion's historian about the project to locate sunken navy ships, and a keynote on justice, freedom and democracy by a young local judge who had served in Africa 4 years ago, interspersed with the "Star Spangled Banner", "America the Beautiful" and a reading of "In Flanders Field".

Reminded of how lucky we are, we joined our fellow Americans and headed for the beach.

Carefree

Cape Florida Lighthouse   

We are riding bikes to Bill Baggs State Park this morning, rather than, like our landlord, dealing with the corroded pipes in the kitchen. Actually, our landlord isn't dealing with them this morning either. He came last night and ascertained this job is likely to need a plumber. That is unlikely to happen at least until Tuesday since this is Memorial Day weekend.

We will be stuck eating out, washing dishes in the bathroom, and using paper plates for the next few days. A cheap price for not having to worry about pipes.

Do Not Run Water or
Pour Anything Into Sink  

I know it's anecdotal memory rather than studied, however it seems like things always broke at the beginnings of long weekends, children claimed of feeling feverish about 5:05 PM Fridays, and a cat or dog would be up to no good early Sunday morning so they could visit the pet emergency room. Since the house is sold, the children grown, and we're down to one cat, plus dang William, weekends are ours.

Fauna

William Spies My Toes as Food   

In addition to our cat Annie, we have William, a Florida box turtle. William is the last of the turtles my father raised from eggs laid by turtles he rescued (if that's the right word) from the wild. He got his name because right after he hatched, my train-buff father and step-mother took a trip to Pennsylvania to see the Horseshoe Curve where 3 train tracks come together. They were not content to leave William at home (the reasons are lost), so carried him on the trip. Nameless when I inherited him, I decided William would be an appropriate name for a turtle who had traveled to Pennsylvania.

William is approximately 25 years old and has a long life ahead of him as long as he learns not to bite my toes when I sit on the balcony.

It isn't really his fault. At the old house, William and his now-deceased brother Marlowe lived on the porch in a large enclosure, and whenever humans stepped into the area, they were feeding turtles. Mostly the humans (mostly me) were wearing flip flops. You can understand how William might associate human toes with food. Now he and I are sharing the balcony, and yesterday he bit my toe. Dang, that hurt. He didn't break the skin but not for lack of trying. 

He doesn't like the water being squirted on him. This is right out of my degree in applied psychology, (BS, Georgia Tech, 1973). If I continue to squirt him every time he heads towards my toes, he should quit heading my way. After a few days, he should be less interested. Then he will have one more major attack before giving up. At least, that's the classical stimulus-response pattern. 

Since I have self-created ADLD, attention deficit lethargic disorder, the condition of loosing interest and not particularly giving a shit, I suspect William will outlast me. I could just keep my feet up on the ottoman. This is an experiment in animal behavior. Which of us will change?

Small Green Iguana

While interacting with William, I noticed a small green iguana in the palm. According to a garden tour I took yesterday, Key B has green, black, and spiny tailed iguanas in addition to Cuban, Puerto Rican, green, brown, Knight's and other anoles, plus matejas, which seem to be an exotic lizard that burrows in the sand. I'm sure there are other lizards that the guide mentioned, but my ADLD kicked in. Considering most of these reptiles are not natives, that's a lot of pets that have escaped or been let loose.

At least we don't have the pythons from the Everglades. The snakes here are native rat snakes and racers, all good at keeping down undesirable bugs and little mammals.

The Girls Have Settled

The Girls Sit On An Amazon Box  

A temporary solution to setting up the girls. Since we don't have any large pots, I'm not sure what I will do for the long term. Immediately turtle William and cat Annie came over to check out the newcomers. Always looking for food.

Spider On Underside of Flamingo  

Before I set them up, I discovered a hitchhiker from the old house: a spider guarding her eggs. The balcony is screened, so I decided the best course would be to let her go in the bushes next to the parking lot. She can lay more eggs. After checking with my entomologist friend, I learned she was probably a brown widow spider, introduced from South Africa and now introduced to our parking lot by me. Unintended consequences reign. One more in a series of humans thinking they were doing good when they introduce a new specie to an area, and yet, it turned out to be a bad idea. Maybe one of the mocking birds will eat her. 

Introduced plants and animals are everywhere. The village of Key Biscayne is planted in what Grant calls resort landscaping with lots of palms and flowering plants in lush, well-tended beds. Everything is neatly pruned, swept and mowed by city employees who always turn off the blowers or mowers when I walk by. They are unfailingly friendly when I greet them. 

Even with all their work, a few unplanned natives have sneaked in. I walked to the post office today and noticed whisk fern, (psilotum nudum) growing in some sable palm boots. There is ball air plant (Tislandsia sp) on tree trunks. Some ferns growing in cracks of rock walls. I will look at them more closely next time I walk by.

The rest of the key is pretty much native habitat with Crandon Park on the north side and Bill Baggs State Park on the southern end. When I was a child, Crandon Park Zoo, predecessor of Zoo Miami was located on the key, and I remember mostly Australian pines (Casuarina sp), although I may have that mixed up with Hollywood Beach. We came over one time to go to the zoo, and we got to hold and feed newborn lions. Really.

We plan to ride our bikes to both Crandon Park and Bill Baggs this weekend. Perhaps I will see flamingos on the mud flats. In recent years more and more have been spotted in Florida, and researchers now think there may have been a native population rather than just escapees from Hialeah Race Track. The girls would be pleased.

Wishes

We are assigned 1 parking place and hunting rights for any other. Evidently the nearby Winn Dixie is copacetic with local cars being parked overnight since the management understands the lack of guest parking spaces at most condos. Our assigned place is W19, partially under a tropical almond tree. Every morning my windshield was covered with a huge bird dropping. I'm not sure what kind. On the list of things to investigate. Occasionally I would remember to back in, then the dropping was on the roof. Probably not good for the paint, but out of sight, out of mind. Plus there was no way my windshield wipers could clear the goop. I'd have to troop back upstairs for a wet paper towel to scrub of the worst part.

Proving once again, be careful for what you wish for, the tree trimmers came. That solved the bird dropping problem.

I assume Key Biscayne does not have an anti-hat-racking ordinance which aims to prevent massacres of trees like what happened here.

A case of wrong plant, wrong place. Better to chop them down and plant native shrubs like silver buttonwood or red-tipped cocoplum that don't grow tall enough to reach the wires and are easily cut with hedge trimmers rather than the cherry-picker the trimmers brought. I suspect planning them now and skipping the next tree trimming would pay for itself.

At least on the balcony side they left some of the palm fronds.

       

Before Tree Trimmers  

 After Tree Trimmers  

New Acquaintances

I had my first foray into making acquaintances on the key by going to a tai chi class at the Community Center. A bust on two fronts. The other students were 3 elderly (and that term is getting closer and closer) women, all snowbirds about to fly north. The teacher was Ian, a young man who evidently was drafted at the previous class since he knows more that the other students. We did some warm ups, then followed a DVD of some form steps. Not what I want. Ian is also looking for a class that does the Qi Jong form. I will continue my search. And I will get my DVD player out of storage because I've found the DVD's my former teacher gave me. I may have to have a class of 1 in my living room.

Later I rode the bus to town and attended Brickell Toastmasters, a big group of professionals. All three speakers did well, the evaluators supportive, and I won Table Topics*!  I liked that the members are of a range of ethnicities. Of course they are all younger than I, with one man speaking about his recent 32nd birthday and how he's starting to feel old. Of course I used that in my Table Topics. I will come back, but next time I'll wear sneakers rather that walking the mile from the bus stop in heels.

             

*Toastmaster meetings have three parts: prepared speeches, evaluations of those speeches, and Table Topics, in which the topic master throws out a question, then asks someone to speak to that for 1 to 2 minutes. The goal is to speak coherently. The speaker can answer the question or go off on a different track, just make it to the 1-minute mark and not run over 2 1/2 minutes. Always seems easy when you're sitting down and not the person asked. My previous club meets in a Denny's, and when a new person just can't make it to the time limit, we tell them to read the menu aloud. Anything to be able to go 60 seconds.

The Deed Is Done

Our House  

The deed is done. That sounds like something from Shakespeare. (pause while I check the Internet.) No, from a play review by Ben Bradley. Ah, well, in our case, the deed is indeed done. We have signed all the papers, and the money is being wired from California via federal banks, title companies and brokers. Should be to us soon.

First we did a walk through with the new owner who says he plans just to fix the house up and see what happens. Could be true. I asked that he treasure the living room wall of coral oolite stone since ours is unusual and not available any more. We also walked the yard, with my pointing out the natives and telling him about the birds and butterflies that live here. The best I could do for them. The woodpecker was making little pecking noises from inside their nest while she waits for her eggs to hatch. I call it noodling, and I shall miss it.

Grant and I keep checking with each other, asking if we are are okay. So far. We took the garbage and recycling bins out to the road for the last time. Then we said good bye to our house. We had a wonderful life there. It is hard to know that part has ended and to focus on the future. How to remember without being maudlin?

Fun With Laundry

My Little Washer/Dryer Combo  

Our unit has one of those little European washer/dryer combos. I'd seen one in England while visiting friends with 4 children. How do moms survive without a big washer and dryer? I ran at least a load every day when my children were at home.

In any case, I decided to give it a go. I even watched a couple of videos how to use the little cutie. Our landlord and the videos emphasized the importance of using low-sudsing, high-efficiency detergent. I thought that was my only problem. Ha. I carefully unscrewed the lint filter which was covered in crust and crud. After cleaning it, I screwed it back in, loaded in my little load, carefully measured the HE detergent, and pushed start. Water began flowing into the machine, and just as quickly, out the lint filter. Fortunately I had many towels not yet put away. I hit cancel and started sopping up the water before it made it to the wood flooring in the bedroom.

Once everything was dry, I took out the lint filter again, washed it again, and screwed it back in again. Pushed start, and water began running out of it again. After I'd mopped this round of water, I was out of towels and patience. I loaded all the wet towels and my wet load of clothes into my laundry bag and took them to the laundry room. Following the instructions, I put detergent in the machine and added my wash. The digital display said "Close lid" which I did. Again and again. I pressed on the lid, yet the display did not change. The other person doing laundry finally took pity and said, "No work."

Since the other machines were all full, I left my clothes and called the condo management company to report the non-functioning machine. The receptionist assured me they would call back. When I returned to the laundry room a half hour later, my machine was unplugged. I guess the first step in getting it fixed. Transferred the wash to another machine, went back upstairs to get the detergent I'd forgotten, came back, and successfully washed and dried my laundry.

At home I would have hung it all out on my lovely clothesline that is now tucked away in storage.

Tonight, Grant and I tried fixing the lint filter one more time. He figured out how to put the gasket in so it sealed. With mop and towels at hand, I pushed the start button. Not a drip. Tomorrow I'm going to give it another go. And sit right next to it while it runs just in case.

I Did It

Just The Echos Are Left  

Just one more trip, and I have a flat tire. Well, not completely flat, just a low-tire warning as I got on I-95. Can I just ignore it? Yes. No. Yes. No, that's crazy. What if it goes flat before I get to Fort Lauderdale, and I have to sit on the roadside waiting for AAA? Sigh.

I didn't want to take the exit to Miami Beach or the one to the airport. Next one is Martin Luther King Avenue. Fine. Rats, a residential neighborhood with no gas stations at the exit ramps. Fortunately, there is a convenience store on the north side with an air/vacuum machine out front. I inflated the low tire (found the screw embedded in the middle of the tread) and drove on.

Before going to the tire store, I took another load to storage and retrieved 2 cases of wine glasses (one of which my son will use when he completes the rack he is building; the other he can pass along) and 2 boxes of champagne flutes that I'm donating to Poverello House Thrift Shop. Back home, I loaded the rest of the donation items, a chlorine container, the internet connectors, and 4 boxes that are just too big for our recycling. Two of the boxes were from bikes we bought 15 years ago and stored in our garage since then. For what, exactly?

Off to the pool store, back home to throw the chlorine in the pool. Then stopped by my friend's house to drop off the boxes for her recycling bin and on to the tire store. While they fix my tire, I carried the internet connectors to UPS which will ship them back to ATT since we have cable at the apartment. My friend picked me up, and back at her house, we decided it was too hot to cut up cardboard boxes. Dear friend will do them in the cool of the morning.

A nice break chatting while we wait for the tire store to call. I hadn't entered these 2 hours in my schedule, but a treasure to sit with my longest  (we don’t say oldest) friend in Fort Lauderdale. I haven't discovered how I will cope with the loss of being close. 

Tire fixed, I made the thrift store drop-off, then back to the house, picked up the chlorine bottles and 2 car carriers we had and returned them to the pool store. I just wanted them gone. Owner insisted on returning our deposit made at least 20 years ago. I'll recommend them to the new house owner.

It was time for the final, final, final packing of the car. And I did it. Like a 3-dimensional jigsaw puzzle, I got it all in and left a place Grant could tuck in the kitchen shelf package we'd had sent to his office. At 5:30, I headed south.

Flamingos Are Ready For The Move

So Close

Happy Mother's Day!

I haven't been as dirty and tired in a long time as I was when we made it back to our apartment this evening after what we had hoped to be our last day working at the house. So close. Even with our son and his girlfriend carrying away 3 pickup truck loads to their house, mostly for bulk pickup, and our putting another carload in storage, we still ended up with 2 carloads of stuff left to take from the house.

Plus we came last night after seeing Florida Grand Opera's production of Werther and loaded up the car. I have had a season subscription to FGO since before my older daughter was born, almost 40 years ago. At first it was at the War Memorial Auditorium, not known for its acoustics or large stage, but it did have bleacher seats with stairs that creaked when we walked up them. Depending on where we sat, we could hear more of the soprano or maybe the bass. Once, when they were doing Faust, little imps/devils ran back and forth across the little stage like maniacal ants. About 25 years ago, FGO moved to Broward Center for the Performing Arts to a more comfortable house with much better sound. Surely the performers were happier too.

It took effort to drive back up yesterday evening, especially with slow traffic from an accident, but I glad we did because we got to say goodbye to our favorite usher, Phoebe, and to the people in front of us who have been seat companions for years and year. It seems so odd when a person who has been someone who appeared regularly in a specific place just disappears. We used to have a middle-age accountant sitting next to us and next to him was an elderly Russian lady who only liked Russian operas, yet attended FGO year after year, complaining about the choice of the programs. One year they didn't come back. We never saw them again. We suspected the woman might have died or become unable to return from her summer in the north. But what happened to the CPA? Not that they owe us an explanation. I'm just curious.

Last week, I said goodbye to my Spin buddies and to the several people I have a nodding acquaintance at the gym. I didn't get to say goodbye to my tai chi classmates because when we got back from our Hawaii trip (n. b., do not schedule a 2-week trip the week before closing on your house), our teacher was on his annual trip to Tennessee. An email will have to suffice.

Even though we were exhausted from the work and hungry from skipping lunch, we were mostly able to be kind to each other throughout the day. A few moments of anger, a couple of snippy remarks, but all in all, fairly well behaved. Now we are at the apartment, clean, and fed with a grocery store sub plus a stiff gin and tonic. The second bedroom is stacked with boxes with only one more load to come tomorrow. Then we can start being here.

Incipient

I subscribe to a word-of-the-day site, and today's word was "incipient: beginning to begin to come into being or to become apparent."  Perfect. We are beginning to begin. Haven't really gotten going, but the first pulls on the wagon are being felt.

I didn't plan well for food these first few days. The first night we walked over to Sir Pizza and had the Royal Feast plus green salad. Breakfast and lunch yesterday, for me packing at the old house, was leftover quiche a friend had dropped by. Cold quiche because I'd given the microwave to Faith Farm and didn't have the patience to wait on the oven.

Last night I rode my bike to Grant's work where we had a couple of pints of IPA and the super nacho plate. Only greens were several rogue pieces of romaine and the chopped cilantro on the guac. All this is too expensive in money for my cheap heart, and too expensive in calories for our health. Now we are off for a short bike ride and and a good breakfast out before beginning to begin the process of settling in. It still is an expensive calorie meal, however it will give us a good attitude to begin the beginning of unpacking.

The Start

After decades of living in Fort Lauderdale, FL, my husband Grant and I sold our house and moved to a small condo on Key Biscayne near his job. He commuted the 70-mile round trip for more than 35 years. Now he can ride his bike to work.

We are taking this next year as a gap year to decide what we want to do. We know we are extremely lucky to have this choice, and we want to be as deliberate as possible.

But not yet. For the first 6 months, we are going to enjoy our new-found paradise. A gap year for oldies. Finding ourselves in our seventies.