Just Keep Swimming

In excited anticipation of a visit by our son this weekend, and we hope our daughter-in-law who unfortunately had to have a wisdom tooth pulled yesterday, plus the fabulous granddog, we went to the mattress store and after much lying on different possibilities, ended up buying the same as we have in our bedroom. Could have done that online.

It was delivered Tuesday, and I have been working on the guest room ever since, trying to corral the stuff in there. I searched my brain for a better word than stuff, but that's what it is, just stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff that I can't seem to let go of without touching each dang piece and reflecting. Good grief. And that's what I seem to be feeling today. Grief. Loss of my former life. Loss of my youth. Loss of my children's youth.

In the abstract, it seems to easy. Just keep what we want and pitch the rest. Here's the reality: I found two little blue plastic boxes that originally held baby wipes. My youngest is 25, so I've had these boxes for years. One has jars of glitter, the other held fabric paint before I discovered all of it was dried up and threw it away. I put the glitter in the plastic drawer set where I'm storing craft supplies. Now I have 2 old boxes that, frankly, annoyed me when I used them because it was impossible to figure which side opened to the point I wrote "front" in magic marker on the side that opened.

Spare Hardware For Bed 

Straight to recycling? No, first I had to wash them and consider what I could store in them now. While they dried, I continued putting away stuff in the guest bedroom. I came across the extra hardware for the bed. Really considerate of the company to include these screws and washers. Grant suggested we pitch them and buy any at the hardware store if we ever needed any. Pitch? Keep? Pitch? Keep?

My father had jars of nails, screws, washers, etc. in the utility room. If you needed something for a project, you went to the utility room and found what you needed. I don't know how these got to their respective jars. Surely someone had to buy some sometime. But I never did. When I had my house, I saved extra parts that were left over from jobs. Eventually I had such a good collection, I could just go to the garage and look through the jars for whatever I needed, or something close enough.

The habit dies hard. Unbeknownst to Grant, I have a jar started here are the apartment. I'd put the extra bed hardware in it, but it is cleverly packaged and wouldn't fit. Maybe I'll tape it to the back of the bed, ready for the next move.

After contemplating the two little blue boxes a little more, I've come to my senses and let them go. They are just stuff.

Moby Dick

Grant's 76th birthday was an amazing day of us getting along during events that could have gone sideways.

First up was a bike ride to Virginia Key and back. Actually, first up was me as usual on the weekend. It has gotten hot, so I rousted the birthday boy early, and we were off. Good ride, no rain, however I forgot to put in a snack for me so I was pretty hungry by the time we got back. Missing breakfast is not one of my fortes. I quickly gobbled down my cereal and avoided being crabby.

Next, we put together the bed I had ordered on line. Amazing that a wooden bed can be bought and shipped all the way from China to me for under $300. I had tried to buy a used one at my usual vintage boutiques of Faith Farm and Poverello House, but both assured me that queen-sized beds are hard to find. I took command of reading the instructions, and within an hour, we had our new bed frame put together and agreed we would shop for a mattress on Sunday or Monday.

Lunch at the apartment of my usual apple and peanut butter and Grant's masubi, a rice, Spam and nori sandwich he learned of in Hawaii and now makes daily.

On to Summer Shorts at the Arsch Center, a set of 8 10-minute plays. Small incident of Grant carrying in his pocket knife which they solved by having him check it with the stage manager.

The White Whale 

So far, so good. Then we went after the white whale, the IKEA wardrobe we bought from a UM graduate moving to Maryland. First we had to carry it to the elevator. We took off the doors and shelf. It still weighed a ton. Actually, it weighed 115 pounds according to IKEA.com, 98 without the doors. I am too dang old for this. We struggled, getting it loaded with the help with a lawn man blowing leaves nearby. Careful drive home over the causeway bridge, and reverse the process. This time we were saved by two neighbors who carried the beast to our apartment. Then we tried to wrestle it into the guest room. Would not fit past the turn in the hall. No way, no how. Sigh, it looms in our bedroom.

8:00 PM, Grant began cooking his birthday dinner, and I reattached the doors, moved the shelf supports, and changed where the rod hung. We stood the wardrobe up and sat down to dinner

In bed by 10:00, and not a surly word between us. Maybe an exasperated sigh or two. So exhausted even my toes hurt. No matter, an awesome beginning for the next quarter century.

One Car

The Girls Celebrate National Pink Flamingo Day  

We have sold Grant's beater with 1 day to spare before his birthday and having to pay for another year's registration. The ad read:

        "For Sale: 2007 Honda Civic
         180k miles, runs well
         No AC, power steering leaks
         Passenger door cannot be opened or fixed
         $1,000 or best offer."

We shed no tears when a person handed over $850 and drove away with the car and title.

Then:
We have always had her car and his car. I drive my car. I like my car. I do not share my car.  Since Grant commuted 350 miles every week, I did the family driving on the weekends. When we went on driving trips, we took my car because it was always the nicer car, and I drove. I like driving.Our children assumed that moms did the driving. One of them once remarked, "Look, there's a daddy that can drive."

Now:
We have our (formerly my) car. This will be an opportunity for me to learn to share and for me to learn to ride while someone else drives. To that end, we've decided that we will share the driving equally, mile for mile. Today I drove to the turnpike plaza where we met our daughter to pick up our granddaughter to visit for the next couple of weeks. Old habits die hard, so even though Grant was to drive home, he automatically got in the passenger's side.

In a way, it is exciting to try this experiment of 1 car. And it is reinforcing that we will not be paying insurance, gas, repairs, and registration on 2 cars. And I can learn to relax while someone else drives. It will be a good thing. It will.

Baby Steps

It has been raining for the past two days. Water has collected all along the roads, and it continues to come down. Poor Grant rode home tonight in pouring rain, fortunately ahead of the lightening and thunder. To add insult to injury, the elevator was out, so he had to carry his bike up the stairs.

Wet Clothes From the Ride Home 

He stood on the breezeway and began taking of his soggy clothes, wringing them out, and throwing them in the bucket I put out. The person delivering pizza next door fled when Grant got to just his biking shorts. Not to worry, he came inside to take them off.

Now we have a pile of wet clothes and towels that will not dry out overnight. Our AC comes on very infrequently, so none of the humidity is getting taken out of the air in the apartment. Things are beginning to be damp, so we ordered a dehumidifier last night.

This took much discussion, web browsing, and review reading. Eventually we made a decision. My contention is done is what we want. Grant wants to get the best which does not mean the most expensive, but rather a good deal we will be pleased with. Pushing our luck, we also picked out a bed frame. Again, I wanted done; Grant wanted the best. We decided not to consider mattresses until this weekend. My patience and energy were gone.

Friends of ours have decided to move to the city where his company's headquarters are. They went up over Mother's Day, looked around, found a house, and bought it. Good grief, we can barely buy a dehumidifier and bed frame. How will we ever choose where to life, much less buy a house?

Baby steps. At lease we did get some decisions made.

Make Way For Ducklings?

Am I imprinted like a duckling on my native area? Growing up in Naples, I knew the sun rose in the east over the Everglades and set in the west over the Gulf. Gorgeous sunsets were the norm.

Although we felt we lived far from the beach, after all it was 12 blocks, I was oriented by water and what was then wilderness. East: dry, west: wet. I remember how surprised I was when I moved to Fort Lauderdale as a young adult, and the Atlantic Ocean was on what seemed like the wrong side. More than once I took a wrong turn until I absorbed my new location.

Even after 40 years, I like sunsets at a gulf beach more than sunrises at the ocean. I prefer going to the beach in the morning, which I did all this past week with my girlfriend, her daughter and grandchild, plus my granddaughter. However, we were at Villano Beach, just north of St Augustine, on the Atlantic.

Villano Beach  

This wide, east-facing beach is her stomping ground, the beach she imprinted on when she lived in the area as a young child. My friend prefers to go the beach in the late afternoon, when the sun would be to our backs. With the 2 children, that wasn't possible. The first thing they said every morning was, "When are we going to the beach?"

Finding Shade In the Morning Sun  

We would attempt to leave the house by 9:00 when the sun wasn't too hot, and my little cabana gave me some shade. The sun shone on the water, getting brighter, rather than becoming less intense. The day got hotter and hotter. After a couple of hours of their bobbing in the waves, we would drag the children ashore.

Even on these calm days, the Atlantic is rougher than I prefer. It's not a place to swim, and the waves knocked me around more than my knees liked. It was also noticeable colder than the water down at Key B. The wide beaches are good places to drive. They are not good places to look for shells.

On the plus side, there is the ocean. I like the wide view, the constant movement of the water, and the sunlight. I have been imprinted on open horizons and clouds. The flatness of Florida means we can see from horizon to horizon most everywhere. When I'm in the mountains or amid the skyscrapers of big cities I am less comfortable. I enjoy them, but I'm not at home.

I know the Florida skies and what to expect from the weather. When my daughter moved to San Diego, she called me and said, "they think it's raining", when there was such a light drizzle she hadn't bothered to take out her umbrella. Today, it is pouring here, and I know, without looking at the weather app, that today is an all-day rain, rather than a heavy shower that will pass in the next few minutes.

All of this brings me to wonder how much change could I enjoy and how quickly could I adapt to another climate.

Weekend in Key West

Friday, we drove down to Key West. I may be beguiled by the orange canopies of the royal poincianas and the various colors of bougainvillea blooms, but the Keys look like they've recovered from Hurricane Irma's devastation two years ago. Granted many (most?) of the pines on Big Pine Key look dead, and there are large swatches of mangroves that don't have any sign of life. However, the majority of the areas have greened back up.

Tarpon at Robbie's Marina  

Lots of new housing is being built, mostly on stilts and painted pastel colors. A different look from the old key bungalows, but not as bad as I had feared. After all the hurricane damage,  I worried that huge resorts would spring up behind walls and gates, giving a Disney look to what was the home of the Conch Republic. So far, so good.

Still Some Conch Republic Around  

 Up early Saturday to catch the ferry for a snorkeling trip to the Dry Tortugas. I've spent my whole life in Florida and never been out there. Life is starting to seem in now-or-never time, so I immediately signed up when friends suggested we go. We schlepped snorkeling gear, chairs, and a cabana I bought but never tried. We did look like pack mules, but was that cabana a good idea! There is almost no shade on the island, then poof, we opened the cabana like an umbrella; instant shade held down by our chairs.

The Retaining Wall  

Clara and I snorkeled along the shore because I was hesitant to take her very far out without air vests since I am no longer a strong swimmer. Another indignity of old age which can be solved by throwing money at it. I will buy vests for our next snorkel adventure. She was thrilled at seeing a large barracuda chasing bait fish, since she had prepared for the occasion by taking out her earrings in case a predator might be attracted to them!

Brown Noddy  

Camping is an open area next to the fort. Way too hot this time of year even with lots of swimming. Plus no fresh water on the island so every drop has to be carried in with your camping gear. I am considering the allowed 4-day stay next the winter, but it seems like less return on energy investment than I had hoped. The attraction is that the islands are nesting areas for sooty terns, frigate birds, and brown noddies. To come back and camp is currently TBD.

Back to Key West, exhausted from swimming and full from dinner, we staggered to our elegant room at the Artist House. Clara declared the blanket on her pullout sofa the softest blanket she's ever felt and was asleep moments later. Grant and I collapsed on the four poster bed and let the snoring begin.

(I loved the bathroom: built where there was a porch,

now incorporated into our room, but with the original walls remaining. Just beautiful.)

Where Are The Homeless?

Granddaughter Clara and I walked the few blocks to the library to get my Miami-Dade Public Library card, then crossed the street to check out the shopping center. What an odd place Key B is. There are lots of realty companies, banks/financial centers, cute coffee places, and small restaurants. One grocery store, one hardware store, one chain pharmacy and one local one. Many hair and nail salons, mostly listed as spas. One whole shopping complex almost completely devoted to body care and physical therapy, plus, inexplicably, the post office.

What I haven't found are any homeless, nor indications of any. Except for the shopping cart that Clara noticed on the corner of our block which we wonder about. In any other place I have been, this would have been filled with someone's possessions. Perhaps being pushed by one of the ravers or being guarded at a bus stop by one of the slumpers.

The cart has been sitting there for at least the past 4 days. I'm not sure if it was there before. I'm so used to just ignoring carts and their owners that I can't say. And what does that say about me? I admit it is nice being cocooned. No more tiptoeing past the ranting lady at my old library's front door. No more pretending I can't see the person sitting outside the grocery story asking for change. No more ignoring people on street corners with "will work for food" signs.

I can just write a check to support my congregation, local public radio, animal groups, etc in peace without having to see ugly. I can get used to it. And that is not a good thing.

Changing Plans Without Gritting My Teeth

I had planned to drive to Orlando and pick up our granddaughter next Thursday for our weekend snorkel trip in the Dry Tortugas. It seemed like a plan. The fact that we were driving  to Orlando for her end-of-the-school-year unicorn-themed party the Saturday before, and she could have ridden home with us just did not factor into my decision.

Why? The reasons now escape me. We do have a meeting Wednesday evening, and I wanted to try the new mindful meditation class on Tuesday, and I have been enjoying my morning chair yoga class, all adult only. My guess is with all the nannies on Key B, there are no babysitters, or any teens in need of money. Maybe those were factors. Mostly it was because I had made up my mind to do it my way.

Grant made the case that it was silly to drive back from Orlando on Sunday, then drive up and back on Thursday, before driving to Key West on Friday. He made his case forcefully, so I got my back up and defended my decision. After much back and forth, not pretty back and forth, we stopped by and picked her up.

Now I am glad we did. It removes 10 hours of driving from this week. Plus she and I have lots of fun things planned. Dang, Grant was right.

How can I get to changing plans without having to put up a fight? There are a gazillion books about getting to yes, we have participated in our wonderful marriage enrichment group for 25+ years, and still, in the heat of the moment, my ego rares up and defends stupid stances.