You Can't Take It With You

I’ve been purging a lot to prepare for an upcoming move across town. 

ALL BOOKS

 It’s the 4^th move in 5 years.  I thought I got rid of a lot of stuff with each prior move.

As we’ve gotten older, The kids (Adam, Sarah, April, Kevin) have moved away and moved on; there has been no need to keep things around hoping they will come back—hoping that we can pass things on to them or the grandkids. They have their own lives; they too are now in the process of accumulating: memories, items from their travels, things passed down, piles of papers, their own children’s drawings and cards, tiny teeth, buttons, and love notes. It all means something in the moment.

Past moves across country, across state, and across town didn’t impact me as much; maybe because I still had so much stuff; it just seemed like I was skimming off the top of all my stuff. “I don’t need 2 sets of Christmas dishes.”

This move came with a set intention that seemed to drop out of nowhere in my mind—become a minimalist. What the hell did that even mean? I had to go look it up.

I found minimalism fascinating, frightening, frustrating, and freeing. I’m on the front end of this minimalist exploration. Rich is all on board; he’s naturally always been a minimalist. If he died, there would be nothing to give away. He gave Adam his bowling ball. Sarah and April his bibles, Kevin probably has something too; I just don’t remember what it is?

Deciding to free myself from so much ‘stuff’ has produced a duel sense of sadness and acceptance.

I am getting older and I know time is limited. Life is short. I had two friends die in one year. I feel increasingly lonely—more than I have ever felt in my life. Friends and family are spread out all over the country. We are all busy. We live in a world where people just text and nobody really connects or calls. You can be sitting with people and they always have a phone in their hand. Or they are off to their next scheduled event; not really making time for you when you show up; you have to fit into their lives. We cheer each other on social media instead of supporting each other in person, in real life. But what is real life in 2020?

We have gotten away from harmony with nature and each other. If we can’t connect with nature and the nature of ourselves, how can we connect with each other? I need to bring more awareness of that to my life; I feel it to the core of my being. I seriously want to go back to a 1975 mindset; we turned in our glass pop bottles for coins to go to the movies because we didn’t have much plastic; mood rings and PEZ candy; we could recall from memory, all our friend’s and families’ phone numbers; we called and talked for hours; we’d spend the day together instead of a quick lunch or dinner; we took long walks together to the ice cream store; we wrote letters; we planned to make special visits and reunions because we missed each other. We made sure people felt cared for and connected. We nurtured relationships over needing to zone or chill out with Netflix. 

We need to learn how to re-humanize; I need to learn how to re-humanize my life. I seriously want to take off a year on social media. But I’m not sure I can do that? Because, how will I know what you are all doing otherwise? Social media (while imperfect) is a kind of necessary 21^st century community. We don’t walk down the street to our neighbor’s house to chat anymore. We don’t drop in. We drop in on social media to see what’s up with everyone we care about. If I went off social media, who will ever talk to me? It makes me so profoundly sad; it takes my breath away. I would practically disappear into the void of non-existence. Because, truth-be-told, in a pathetic way, social media validates my existence for now. All those I previously knew and loved, would stop commenting or liking or relating. It would be entirely upon my shoulders to maintain any kind of real relationship apart from social media. And that burden is too much to bear all by myself. At least on social media it feels kind of reciprocal. Off social media, it takes work to maintain friendships. People don’t want you to drop over or call. In 1975, it didn’t take that much work. It didn’t take to much work in 1985, 1995. 2005.

With all the stuff in bins and boxes, I’m carrying extra weight emotionally, spiritually, and yeah, probably physically too. I didn’t realize how much I was carrying around until I had to decide to go through it and get rid of it.

Some of those ‘things’ I have collected over the years I took on responsibility for being the keeper of the memories—my grandmother’s memories.

About 15 years ago, she was downsizing; moving from a studio apartment to an even smaller room on the assisted living floor. I came over to help her purge. My grandmother’s apartment was eclectic—filled with classic artwork and inexpensive sentimental treasures from all her travels from all over the world. She loved ALL her things; I loved all her things. But she loved her books most of all.

She sat in a chair and I pulled each book off the shelf one by one. She decided which book would go to me and which book she would keep. She’d tell me, “You have to read this book. It’s a wonderful story. One of my favorites.” I’d smile and tell her I’d read it some day. This went on for about 20 minutes. “You have to read this book. It’s my favorite. It means so much to me. Promise me you’ll read it.” After about the tenth time, I made the mistake of saying, “I can’t promise you that I’ll read this, Gram.” She huffed about how her books mean the world to her and that nobody understands. She was really mad at me. She was mad at my Aunt (her daughter) who wasn’t even in the room. She said something mean and I told her to stop being unfair to my Aunt. She got up and went over to her bed, lay down, and turned her back away from me and cried. Just because I couldn’t promise I’d read all her books? I’m so damn literal. Why couldn’t I just lie to her? I should have.

I had no idea until this move what was going on in her heart; she had to let go of all the things that brought her joy; she couldn’t fit all these special things into her next stage of life. It hurt her deeply. She was mad at me and mad that my Aunt was making her move (she wasn’t). She knew what moving into assisted living meant, and feared this would be her last move.

My Gram had passed on so many of her possessions because she couldn’t carry them with her. I knew how much they meant to her. And because I knew the story behind each book, each statue, each jar, each dish, each framed picture, I carried them. I treasured them for her.

If I had to guess why I’m leaning towards minimalism it’s probably a few things:
I can’t maintain space for it all (kid stuff, grandma stuff, my stuff).
I want to try to consume fewer things that impact the planet (plastic, clothing, food). Wouldn’t you agree we are out of control with consumption of stuff?
The world is on fire or drowning in natural disasters. It affects me. I realize every day people are losing everything they own. I donate money so they can rebuild. I tell myself each time I see it, “Travel light, Kim. That could be you; it’s just stuff.” 

I see the world burdened all around me with clutter; we have no room anymore for each other. We’re so busy building castles in the sand. We spend all our time working to pay for stuff. I’m kind tired of all the stuff and how it drives me to indulge or squirrel away things that devalue (just like a car when you drive it off the lot).

While purging, I came across things that embarrassed me that I purchased: clothes with tags on them; I found a brand new professionally fitted $178 French bra. I wore it once because the underwire was so painful after 30 minutes. I didn’t care how much it lifted and separated. It hurt like hell. That was the last time I wore a underwire bra. The truth is, only surgery can fix boobs once you’re in your 40s; that nugget of truth is free. Accept that sooner and all of life gets better!

I was sad that I had nobody to really give away some of my sentimental or valuable things. Who wants a Toot-a-Loop Radio from the 70s that held a story about the first miracle I ever experienced? What about all my political protest buttons and t-shirts? I’ve got jewelry and art (even my own art). Because we don’t live in community or close proximity, or have years of history with friends, I couldn’t say to friends or family, “Come over this Sunday and go through my things. Take whatever you want. I’ll make you dinner.”

I declared to Rich that we we’re gonna be more minimalist. He watched in awe as I tackled each closet and shelf with Maria Kondo commitment. It was painful. I felt so sad as I read old letters from friends and then tossed them. I saved every cork from every bottle of wine I shared with my girl friends. When it came time to purge the books I felt an ache in my soul. Now I know how my Grandmother felt. I wanted to call up Kevin and say, “Hey, I know you don’t meditate right now. But someday you may want to. I’ve got 20 meditation books here for you that really meant a lot to me. I mean, they are really important to me. Promise me someday you’ll read them. Will you take them?” He wouldn’t have wanted them; I never read all the books that my grandmother passed on to me. So I donated them all—twenty-three bags of books between Rich and me. 

My grandmother has been gone for 11 years. She would be mortified to know that I gave some of her stuff away to the local Buy Nothing Group (you gift things to people for free). To deal with the guilt, I asked my brothers if they wanted a few things. They did; thank God. I told Rich I felt so responsible carrying all her stuff; even though I loved each thing I had. But it all sent me into an unexpected, inconsolable anguish. I felt like Steve Martin in The Jerk, “All I need is this lamp, this remote control, this chair.” Then I realized I had to get rid of my grandmother’s chair too.  I was in a puddle of tears, in a fetal position, crying, mourning all over again. I was seeing her life slowly dissolve. All her stories were attached to her things. If her cherished possessions were gone, would I remember them? Would she cease to exist? And not too far behind her is me; all my things and stories will soon be gone. 

With that realization, I still held on to the most special items Gram passed on to me: a candy box, a crystal candy nut dish, a framed Chagall print, a small vase with plastic violets, and all her travel Christmas ornaments from around the world, her Charles Lamb Tales From Shakespeare and Emily Post’s 1922 book on Etiquette, Copenhagen’s Little Mermaid statue, and my great grandmother’s cross stitch linen; they bring me joy.

Geez, what crazy madness did I sign up for choosing to live more minimalist? This sucks! When do I feel a free mind and more spaciousness in my soul? When is that feeling going to kick in? Obviously, I must still be pretty emotionally attached to my stuff. Again, it’s like in the movie The Jerk, when Bernadette Peter’s cries after losing her fortune, “It’s not the money, it’s the stuff.” 

Tick tock; life is impermanent. It just is. I’m only now beginning to understand that truth. Now I see why we unconsciously collect so many things; it makes some of this life seem real.  

Minimalism is the art of letting go. This next stage is what I’m calling my ‘essential stage.’ I’m not sure what that’s going to look or feel like? I hope it’s less cluttered and only what’s needed. I hope it’s calm and Zen like.  I hope it’s more communal. I’m making space for that right now. Come on over, we’ll have some tea and catch up. 

Godspeed My Friends

I've had a two dear friends die in the last year. I'm at the age where I'll be more acquainted with goodbyes from death; I'm not at the age where all my friends are getting married or having baby showers. We're older. Our health is a concern. Life is not always gentle or fair. We each have to face our own mortality; it's inching up on me.

My first new Florida friend, Loraine, died last year from brain cancer; And my book club friend, Jan, died a few days ago from ovarian cancer that eventually spread to her brain. I shared different things with them. But they both brought me happiness, joy, comfort, and love.

I've always struggled with goodbyes since I was a little girl; I don't do them well. I don't like good things coming to an end or permanently changing. I supposed we all feel that way too. As much as I don't like it and it's uncomfortable to talk about; I told myself after my Uncle Bob died from AIDS, I'd never ignore death or pretend it doesn't happen--to us all.

I shared on Facebook these memorials below as a way to let their families know that I haven't forgotten what special people they were to me. I supposed with each friend or family member who passes this world, I'll commemorate them too. It's not my favorite kind of writing. However, this kind of writing moves me the deepest.

Each of these souls I loved dearly; I truly saw God in them. I think that's why we miss them so much. Because 'love doesn't die, people do.'

Godspeed on your next journey, Loraine and Jan. 🙏💜

A year ago today, MFB (My Florida Buddy) Loraine Fitzgerld, died from brain cancer. When I think of her, I get choked up.

If you are one of my friends, I will love you madly. It doesn't matter if we talk every week or every few months or years. I will take in all things 'you' and hold it close to my heart like a precious gem. I will always remember you. I miss Loraine so much. 

We met online (thank you, Facebook). We met in a FB group for women who were transitioning to gray hair. Loraine noticed that I mentioned that I was moving to Florida 5 years ago. She said, "When you get to Florida, let's meet." And we did. It was so funny because I was completely gray; she wasn't. The first thing she said to me in her wonderful New York accent was, "I'm sorry, I couldn't go gray after all." I laughed out loud. I loved her thick, dark, curly hair; I loved her New York accent. I told her not to think another thought about it-she was beautiful and we women always need to support each other and do what's best for us. We talked about our kids, our beloved husbands, and both learning how to adjust to recently transitioning to Florida, our inner hippy, Michael Franti, being vegan-ish, beach life, kitties and puppies, yoga and meditation. She was joyful, positive, and encouraging. I adored her instantly. 

We often met for lunch and occasionally would invite our husbands to join us for dinner (Thai or sushi). We enjoyed them as a couple too; they loved each other deeply; and were settling into a new Florida lives too. 

When I learned she had brain cancer, and quickly was taken into surgery, my first thought was, "OMG, no! Not MFB!" Life is so precious. Loraine was so precious. My second thought was, "OMG, all our lunches and dinners, I never took a picture of the two of us." (If you ever wonder why I do selfies so much, it's because I want to capture a moment with you.) 

Loraine lives in me still. When I see anyone whose struggling to figure out transitioning into a new life, I love her by liking and loving you; I give her away often. Uprooting and transplanting to a new life is an adjustment; don't under estimate it. She gave me courage to settle into my new life here in Florida, first in Vero Beach and then here in Dunedin. I don't think I could have managed without her. We kept in touch in PM's all the time.
Now that I'm settled, I just wish she was here so we could share it together. 

Her goodbye to me a year ago was metaphysical. It was a visitation the morning she passed. I'll never forget it as long as I live. If you ask me about it, I'll share it. But she came to me and said goodbye. Thank you, MFB! 

Loraine left behind a wonderful husband and two devoted daughters; their loss is beyond words. 

Even though you're not here with us, I know you're energetically more alive in spirit then ever--just elsewhere. 

Today I will listen to some Michael Franti, do some yoga, go to the sea, eat some Thai food. And donate to Esther The Wonder Pig in her name. Love you, Loraine (MFB). 🤗💜🕊

It is with tears and a profoundly sad heart I share that one of our Dunedin Women Share & Connect community, Janice Barocas, died on Thursday.

She was my fast friend. We met in DWSC Book Club #1 (Page Turners). She had just recently found out that she had ovarian cancer. It rocked her world in so many ways. She confided in me that she had cancer but didnt want book club to know yet. She wanted to have something that was normal and fun for her. Over time she told the group. Your support meant a lot to Jan. She loved to devour good fictional books. A Tree Grows In Brooklyn was her favorite (I'm grateful we got to read it together as a group). 

Even though I have only known Jan a year, it was like I knew her a decade. She reminded me of a younger version of my grandmother (who was everything to me). Jan and I shared the love of books, theater, some politics, and a zest for life and the Beatles. I didn't get a chance to tell her I got Rich tickets to go see Ringo; she would have loved that too. Jan taught ethics; we had interesting conversations about integrity and critical thinking. 

The night she told me she had stage 4 cancer, we stood outside Joanie's house for an hour after everyone left. I listened to her tell me she was not ready to die yet. She didn't want to leave behind her family. In fact, she told me that often; her children and grandchildren were everything to her. She adored her husband and the life they shared.

In another life, I was in ministry. I've never had the most honest conversations about disease and death as I had with Jan. I supposed she felt we could 'go there.' I appreciated her transparency about her own personal experience. Often we keep things positive and light when there is a cancer diagnosis. Jan was more truthful in a way that humbled me. She was so articulate about what she was going through; I felt it. Our conversation would also be peppered with such love and encouragement and hope for the future. I drove home that night from our first book club, and sang out loud the Beatles 'Let It Be' as a prayer for Jan. I don't know why, I just sang it. I felt so sad because I knew her time was limited, and grateful for knowing Jan. From then on, I drove her to book club because she often had her treatments on Mondays in Tampa. I wanted to make sure she got to book club after a long exhausting day. We often sat in the car and talked and talked. She enjoyed book club and loved ALL of you gals in our group. 

Jan loved the theater. She introduced me to the elegant Tampa Theater in downtown Tampa. We saw The Biggest Little Farm (such an endearing documentary). She also wanted us to see the movie Woodstock together too. Jan was truly fascinated with life; we shared that together.  

She shocked me when she told me she went back 10 years and read every single one of my blogs. She would quote them to me. Jan made me feel known and understood (what a gift to give to someone). Since she was a college professor, I was initially embarrassed; I figured she saw every poorly structured sentence. But she was beyond gracious and supportive. She told me she loved my writing style and to keep writing. 

I corresponded with her sweet daughter, Megan tonight. She is heartbroken. Jan died on the 26th. She was surrounded by her family. They knew she was quickly passing. Megan said, "I played Let It Be. I put the phone next to her head. During the song she let out a tear, took a few more breaths, then was gone." They are hurting and could use your prayers. My heart is hurting. I will miss dear Jan. 😥💔🙏

Friendsgiving 2019

Friendsgiving has become a thing. I'm grateful too. Life is busy. Families are spread out all over he country. We can't do much life in proximity anymore. We can be sad or we can open our hearts or homes to our friends. This year, we appreciate the invite to share Thanksgiving hospitality among friends (Andie and Ken). As luck would have it, it was a vegan Thanksgiving this year. Everyone brought delicious plant-based dishes and desserts. We had a wonderful time. And like all Thanksgivings, our bellies were too full at the end of the night.  Ps-we are fasting the day after. 😉

Mushroom Wellington

Thanksgiving Table for 13

Vegan (chicken) pot pie

fresh fruit

Sweet Barbara. 

Ken and Carla catching up

Alice, Michelle, Andy-lovely new acquaintances 

So much food

Carrot cake, pumpkin pie, brownies

Pam and Ron 

Lively Denise 

Carla and Andie

The Hostess with the Mostest-Andie 

October Friends

One of my dearest friends got married this month for the first time. I got to be one of the two flower girls at Kimmie Rueter’s wedding. 

It was an outdoor wedding held at her sister’s house. The ceremony would take place in the front of the house with Kimmie & Undra standing on the front stairs. The reception would take place in the backyard. The weather was typical October: warm sunshine in the high 50s or low 60s in the morning, with gray cool shadows that cast over in the afternoon; by then, it became windy and rainy. 

I wore a gorgeous navy blue Indian Saree with hot pink edges and gold details.  We threw flowers all over the wedding guests and each other; we hammed it up in hopes that it would go viral. Everyone laughed and enjoyed our entrance. But when Kimmie walked up the isle, it took our breath away. This was her moment. She was walking to her man. I’ve always loved to watch the groom when the bride arrives and begins walking down the isle. Undra was so overcome with emotion at the alter. It melted every women’s heart to see him standing in gratitude and love before his bride with tears streaming down his face. Kimmie handed him her christening handkerchief.

The rain came down while Kimmie and Undra said their vows. We all wiped our eyes filled with tears of joy, and popped open our umbrellas. After we ate, huddled under the food tent, hiding from the downpour, we danced on the unrolled outdoor carpet that was soggy and muddy. The dance floor was still covered because it was too dangerous to dance on it. There was laughter and love all around despite the rain pouring down from heaven. Kimmie and Undra took it all in stride. They were married and we were their witnesses; witnesses to the love; witnesses to letting go of perfect beginnings; witnesses of laughter and close dances and mob line dances; witnesses to friends and family rejoicing in Kimmie and Undra’s special day. It was one of my favorite weddings; one I will always remember. 

We left the next morning and took off to New Orleans. We went with our favorite California friends, Susie and Steve McNitt. It was our first time in NOLA. We rented an AirBnB that was within walking distance of the French Quarter. 

New Orleans is an old city. Note to self: always wear gym shoes.
You can’t walk around (safely) in flip flops. Cobblestone streets, and ancient trees make their way to the light of day like zombie roots escaping out of sidewalks.  Music was being played every where we went. The music changed from classic jazz to zydeco to blues to funk to rock every other bar. You could just walk in (with no cover charge). You just had to buy a minimum of one drink. You could stay as long you liked. It is a people watching mecca: lots of drunk people; lots of street performers; lots of tourist attractions; lots of young homeless people hanging out in doorways or park benches; many of them with their dogs sitting next to them. As couples, we just walked hand in hand strolling down the street, smiling and laughing, and eating our way through NOLA. 

By the way, it’s virtually impossible to eat whole food plant based vegan when you’re with another couple. We were not good at planning or making better food decisions. I couldn’t tell you one vegan restaurant that was worth eating at. Next time, we’ll have better expectations of restaurants ability to accommodate vegans. Ultimately, we were there for the company not the food. Although, I will tell you that New Orleans beignets are like crack: scary for your health and addictive; I could see giving all my money away on powder sugar beignets and risk becoming homeless. 

This was week that was filled with the joy of life--a wedding, dancing, time with good friends, travel, live music and delicious food. It is so good to be alive!

25 Things People In FL Are Tired of Hearing

My friend Gary Hisel always tags me in the funniest posts (ie.,beer yoga). Sometimes it’s thoughtful things; mostly, they are just funny. I just like that he thinks of me. Recently, he posted ’25 things people in Florida are tired of hearing.” He was especially curious about #19 I thought I’d give my version of it.

1. “Wow, you live in Florida? You must go to the beach every day!”
Nope, I wish. The actual open water ocean beach is only 20 mins away from me with lights, bridges, and tourist traffic. The ocean (St. Joseph Sound) is only 5 mins away by car, 10 mins by bike. I don’t take advantage of it as much as I should. But when I do, I’m so grateful and can’t get over that we live in Florida. 

2. “Do you own any clothes besides flip-flops and swimsuits?”
I wear flip-flops all year around. Unless it’s raining. And I haven't been in a swimsuit since 1990. 

3. “Don’t you wonder what a real winter would be like?”
I remember what ‘real winters’ are like; it's why I moved. Winters in Florida are lovely. Favorite time of the year. 

4. “Have you ever been bitten by a shark?”

Being the overshare-er that I am, you would have heard about it already. But I did see a shark at the foamy shore when we first moved to Florida in Vero Beach. I told Rich, “I just saw a shark fin near shore, in the foam. “ He didn’t believe me until we saw it jump out of the water 15 minutes later because it was on a hook, fighting for it’s life. The fisherman reeled it in eventually. The poor shark had to be  exhausted. About 20 people stood around looking at it breathe on land. I started saying, softly, “Free Willy.” I did pet it and tell it to “hang in there, hopefully, they will set you free.” The fisherman eventually did. I wondered if he had survived after being out of the water for 15 minutes?

5. “Do you go to Disney World every weekend?”
Ha! No. Two words, “Orlando Traffic.” That is enough to take all the magic out of my desire to go every weekend. 

When we got married, we took our honeymoon to Disney World with four kids (Rich thought it would be a nice way to start off our marriage as a new blended family.) I don't remember what it was about, but we got into a huge fight at Epcot. He took his kids and I took Kevin and we went our separate ways. It wasn’t really the smartest idea since I had no idea where our car was parked. Miraculously, we found each other (kids in tow) in the sea of people; we took it as a sign we were meant to be together.
This Christmas, Rich and I are going to Disney for the first time in 31 years by ourselves. I trust that it will be a magical time.

6. "If you're from Florida, Where do you go on vacations?" 

I vacation in Florida. So many amazing coastal towns. I don't really have a need to go to Hawaii because I live in our own mainland Paradise. It always feels like we're on vacation. I do feel sorry for people who come down here for vacation and it's their last day. For us, it's just Thursday. 

7. “How far is that from Miami?”

About four and a half hours. Five hours with a potty break.

8. “I thought Florida was only for retirees!”
When we first moved to Vero Beach, it was a retiree community (to me). But, I now live in Dunedin; it's close to Tampa in Pinellas County. It’s a vibrant area. Lot’s of diversity. I meet people of all demographic groups here. That’s what I love about it. We experience more vacationers than retirees in our area. But those that I do know who are retired, they are living their best lives. 

9. “So, if you’re from Florida, where will you retire?”
We hope to remain here. See question #25. 

10. “I thought you would have a better tan!”
You’ll never see me with a dark tan. Although it doesn’t take much for me to get some color. Compared to people up north, I probably look tan. If I go for a short walk, under 30 minutes, I don’t put on sunscreen. And I don’t lay out on the beach. If I go to the beach, I look like Jackie Onassis: large brim hat and sunglasses, and clothes head to toe (no socks).  I had skin cancer in my 30s. I was told to be careful. My sun goddess worship days are over.

11. “What kind of sunscreen do you recommend?”
See #10. Anything organic. I don’t put chemicals on my face or body.

12. “Is there a gator in your backyard?”
No, but I have seen otters as big as a baby seal in the pond. I’ve seen a small gator on a walk with a friend at a nature reserve once.

13. “What does alligator taste like?”
I ate gator once years ago. I wouldn’t eat them now or even get a gator skin handbag. From what I remember, it tasted like a chewy, fishy chicken flavor (depending on how it’s cooked). 

14. “You must be an expert swimmer!”
I grew up with a pool in my backyard. I am an expert floater and doggy paddler. If I had to swim in the ocean, and it wasn’t too far from shore, and there wasn’t a rip tide current, and I didn’t panic from fear, I could probably swim well enough to live to tell about it.

15. “Were you ever a lifeguard?”
No. And I wouldn’t swim in ocean waters without a nearby lifeguard. Otherwise, I’m only walking in ankle or knee deep water. 

16. “Oh, so you play beach volleyball, right?”
No, I’ll leave that to the young kids. I seem to bruise like a Georgia peach at my age.

17. “Have you seen a manatee?”
A few times. Once up close while out paddle-boarding. One of the manatees almost knocked my friend Randy into the water by bumping his board (I think on purpose). Randy had impressive balancing skills. I would have fallen in the water.

18. “Do you eat fish every day?”
I stopped eating fish after I watched the Plastic Ocean documentary. I'm happy to give it up to replenish and heal our ocean's ecosystem. 

19. “Is it true that you should pee on a jellyfish sting?”
Ha! I have no idea? I recommend going to beaches with lifeguards. If they have a purple flag on the lifeguard station, stay out of the water; there may be dangerous sea creatures lurking. That said, if I knew it worked for sure, I'd totally do it. 

20. “You only have palm trees, right?”

That’s what I thought too. But they have the coolest trees: banyans, oaks, elm, bamboo, shade trees. That reminds me, I need to go hug some trees soon.

21. “How often do you make fresh-squeezed orange juice?”
I only drink fresh orange juice if I go to the Fenway as a treat. Or, if my friend Denise lets me have a few of the fresh oranges hanging off her orange tree.

22. “What’s the difference between UF and FSU?”
I have no idea. I haven’t made the switch yet to watch Florida sports. If I had to pick one, I’d probably watch the Bolt Hockey team. Although, I could be persuaded to go to a Blue Jays or Phillies baseball game. The Blue Jays spring training is here in Dunedin. The Phillies are next door in Clearwater.

23. What about snakes?
“Why? Did you see one? Where? Wait, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” Most of the time, I have to mentally pretend they don’t exist here. I know they do. I’m making progress on my snake phobia.

24. “What’s your plan for hurricane season?”
Road Trip!! West, North, or East depending on which direction it’s coming from. Do it early. The day the Governor announces it, get in the car within 2 hours and go. Otherwise, that night, there will be lines at the gas station. The next day, there will be no gas with sheriffs stationed out in front. Water bottles will be gone. We don’t drink from plastic water bottles anymore, so no worries there; we got a Berkey water filtration system (you could drink pond water from it). The Chief of Miami Dade told me if it’s a Cat 3 or above leave. But, Cat 1 or 2, the only issue will be power outages or flooding. I don’t do well in 90+degrees with no a/c. Too hot, and I’ll faint. So, for my health, we leave. Some people brave it out. Good for them. That won't be us. 

25. “Why would you ever want to leave?”
We wouldn't, we love Florida more than we ever dreamed. But, I have been taking lots of advice about the future (with climate change in mind). I was told by a risk analyst that Florida is going to become a very dangerous place if we don’t get to zero emissions asap. Ocean rising in Florida will happen. Storms are getting stronger and more damaging. People will need to relocate. Higher prices elsewhere will be driven up because of mass migration. We live in a coastal town. I can’t imagine my beloved seaside town suffering from the effects of Global Warming. We have a tentative back up plan--stay as long as we are able. 

If it's time to go, we are thinking Denver or Boulder CO. I hope we can live out our days in gratitude and peace here. I never take it for granted that we live in Paradise. 

Lastly, I never get tired of people asking me about Florida. I hope they come visit and experience it themselves. 😎🌴🌞