The Deed is Done II

Grant’s Goodbye Note

Grant said he didn't want a retirement party, so he agreed that he would send out an email to say he was retiring, first to the bar so everyone could say goodbye, then to our new life. Beers were bought, lies were told, I shed a few tears.

RSMAS, the Rosenstiel School for Marine and Atmospheric Sciences, has been his work place, but also where our children were welcome to come and visit. Any day was Bring Your Child To Work Day, and Grant often did. They would chat with professors and researchers, adults who were excited about their work and willing to discuss it with interested children, a perk of being homeschooled. Lunch on the patio overlooking Biscayne Bay, then playing in the sand. Tours of the sea slug facility. Aquaria with baby sail fish. All sorts of boats and instruments strewn about. A magical place for anyone curious about wind and water.

Perhaps some Friday evenings, we will ride our bikes back over Bear Cut and have another beer in the Wet Lab. Best bar in South Florida.

Maine Trip

Zimmerman House, Manchester, New Hampshire  

I am noticing a big tension between wanting to see and wanting to sit. My sisters and I are spending five days in coastal Maine, up and out every morning to walk in the woods and see what birds we can find. The first day, since we flew into Manchester, NH, we toured the Zimmerman House, a perfectly preserved Frank Lloyd Wright-designed home that reinforced my preference of light over dark interiors. Obviously, Mr. Wright and the Zimmermans did not share that preference. Cherokee red counter tops and concrete floors with cypress walls and ceiling absorbed the light from the overhead lamps and south facing windows. A cool retreat in the summer. I can't imagine how dreary it would be in midwinter. From there, we drove to Harrison, Maine and saw our maternal grandparents’ home and graves, sadly, fairly rundown, before reaching our hotel in Freeport.

Betsy, Peg and Me with Lenny, the Chocolate Moose  

Sweetser's 207-year-old Apple Stand  

 In three days, we walked at four state parks and four Audubon centers*. The temperatures were mid-60's and the parking lots were empty. Unfortunately most of the birds had migrated south with the tourists, but the walks were still lovely. I really enjoyed seeing the sights, watching for wildlife, and eating lobster at least once a day. However, I needed a break to just sit. Without that,  I loose crispness in my memory, and the several days jumble all together.

Mast Landing Sanctuary, Freeport, Maine

But when we have a limited amount of time, we tend to pack so much into our days. The day after my sister was married in New Zealand, my girlfriend, son, and I took what we named the Bus Trip From Hell to see the north island. Driven by a young manic, our tour was a series of get off the bus, rush through an area, get back on the bus, and repeat. Just about the time I’d start looking around, the driver would insist time was up, and we had to move on. An exhausting day.

Cape Reinga, North Island, New Zealand in 2008  

However, we got to see the huge kauri trees, 40 Mile Beach, and the very top of the north island, where the Pacific Ocean and the Tasmanian Sea meet. Without the crazy pressure to go, go, go,  I would never have seen that beautiful line where the two different colored waters press against each other.

Audubon Marsh, Scarborough, Maine  

How do I balance wanting to see it all and wanting to think about what I’ve seen and its meaning for me? Perhaps renting a place for a few weeks or months would be an option. With a deck or porch with a view and comfortable chairs. We could use it as a base of operations, with day or longer trips radiating out. The downside would be finding furnished places that rent by the month rather than the day or week. Plus we would still need a permanent location so that would be mean double housing expenses, which full-time campers avoid. However, the thought of continually finding campsites seems overwhelming. Maybe once I got into the habit, it would get easier.

* State Parks:

• Wolfe's Neck Woods and the Center/Campground next door
• Mackworth Island
• Two Lights
• Ferry Beach

Audubon Centers;

• Mast Landing Sanctuary
• Gisland Farm
• Marsh in Scarsborough
• East Road Marsh

Too Soon to Open Shutters?

Hurricane Dorian, now a category 5 storm, has stayed offshore of Florida and spent most of yesterday wreaking havoc in the Bahamas.

In relief, we met friends for a late lunch at a Greek restaurant on Hollywood (Florida) beach. As too often happens, I agreed to ordering a huge amount of food and, because it was sitting there... Too many calories which cost more than I like to spend. We do so much better when we share an entree and an extra salad. Will I learn to hold my ground?

I am feeling pressure to decide what our next move will be, if it even is a move. Perhaps staying another year on Key B is the right option. It certainly is the easiest, but it comes with the hidden cost of lost opportunity. We have few years for active adventures. 10? Probably too optimistic. Since we cannot do everything, how do we prioritize?

On the way to the restaurant, we decided on three possibilities: stay where we are, move to another apartment/house, or buy an RV and tour around. Back and forth, back and forth on the 40-minute drive, we weighed the pros and cons of each. Finally, I suggested we pretend we each have 10 colored dots, each dot representing how much we were interested. Grant put 3 of his on each option, with the last dot probably on staying put. I placed all my dots on buying the RV next spring. He agreed that it would be exciting, however he's worried about having his own space. I hear his need and know I probably need it even more.

Perhaps that is why over-ordering and over-eating weighed heavily on me after lunch. I lived on a 31' sailboat for seven years. I learned to live small. Can Grant and I adjust our way of life to fit into an RV?

Same Old

Still healing, still watching iguanas, still hanging out at home. At least my sister Betsy is visiting from New Zealand, so I've had some entertainment. I can hobble to the pool with my cane, and we have enjoyed swimming each morning. Since I can drive, we've gone to the phone store to get her a sym card and visited Grant at work for lunch on the patio overlooking Biscayne Bay. We even went to a Marlins game which was fun, especially since they beat the LA Dodgers 13-7. But mostly we've been in the apartment because walking wears me out.

Grant and I did meet with financial planners from TIAA. As soon as I get statements from all our accounts, and we hear from UM Benefits about pension details, they are going to crunch numbers. We are committed to low cost index funds. Since we have Social Security and the UM pension which will be there unless the world goes to hell, and it may, I know inflation is our biggest financial enemy. Even at 2%, it just keeps eating away at our assets.

Translating this into action is my bugaboo. I've asked the planners for two things: a specific balance of stocks to bonds, and an annual date on which I must re-balance our portfolio. Once we are set up, and the date is on the calendar, I know I'll follow through. The silly thing is that I could pick the ratio myself since there are rules of thumbs, like the percentage of stocks should be 120 - our age. This would move us toward each year to more conservative investments, while still having our assets grow so we don't run out of money. Yet, having a professional's confirmation of my actions gives me much comfort. Is that lame? Yes.

In the meantime, Betsy and I chat and chat. We do love to talk. Our sister Peg, who lives in Plant City, FL, was supposed to join us, but, after waiting several months, her husband was finally scheduled for an out-patient procedure this week, and she had to stay and take care of him afterwards. She claimed he's being a model patient. Could be true. Perhaps next week she can come down, or we can drive up to central Florida, maybe even Gainsville.

How will the iguanas do if I'm not sitting in the living room watching them? I'm willing to take that chance.

Independence Day

I first thought of spelling the title of this post as "Indepen-dance Day", because I should be dancing. Grant decided to retire at the end of the year. Yesterday he told his boss and coworkers. I knew this day was coming, but somehow I didn't believe it.

Why am I filled with a trickle of dread? Not despair, not sadness. Just a dampness of anxiety settling around me. When I told Grant, he was worried I didn't want to spend time with him. That's not it. I enjoy his company, and I look forward to our being able to travel as much as we want. I look forward to our having mornings together and weekdays, not just weekends. A whole new part of our lives.

Neither of us slept well last night, but we both kept reassuring each other that we were fine, individually and as a couple.

                            When I breathe in, I breathe in peace.

                            When I breathe out, I breathe out love.

This morning, I realized my stress isn't from Grant. It's all from me. I feel pressure now to get all those projects done that I had said I would do this year. And already this year is getting away from me. I fritter in the afternoons rather than tackling the things I want to shed this year. I will give myself one more day to dally, then the battle begins. This will happen. The boxes of photos, slides, videos and other mementos are not going with us to the next roost.

Not A Neighborhood Yet

When I grew up in Naples, FL, it was a small town of locals that trebled in size during the winter months with the winter visitors. These weren't tourists on vacation for a week, although there were some. They were wealthy people who owned homes in town but would never have said they were from Naples. Beginning around Thanksgiving, cars with Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio licence plates would be stuck in traffic with us Floridians. They stayed until about Easter, then headed home to the north. Snow birds.

Although Naples depended on their money, it didn't ask for their loyalty. No donations to the art museum, no participation in local politics, no roots put down. Now that has all changed, and Naples is awash in retirees that serve their new community well.

I think Key Biscayne is like Naples in the 1950's. Many of the people living here are from away. Only 26% were born in Florida; 54% were born out of the US, according to AreaVibes which claims the 2016 US  Census as its source. From my observations, most are South Americans, which jibes with AreaVibes claim that 65% speak Spanish as their main language. I would love to practice my Spanish, but they immediately switch to English to help me along and to avoid the pain to their ears. Only the cashier at Winn Dixie suffers with my attempts since I told her I'm working on improving my gringa espanol

What does that mean for my future here? So far, the majority of seniors at the community center has been Snow Birds. Most have already flown, the remaining leaving after the 4th of July (tomorrow). Many are New Yorkers heading back to the city. I did meet a woman from Scotland who is going to North Carolina for July and August.

Are there people who are interested in making new friends? If so, how can I connect with them, especially in the summer when being outdoors is impossible? It is officially hot with record temperatures being hit in Miami. My granddaughter and I have enjoyed riding our bikes to and from her nature camp at Crandon Park in the morning and evening, but midday is inside only. We are curled up in our cocoon of air conditioning, awaiting our emerging in the fall, a long time away.

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.

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.

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?

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