Florida in February was Fabulous

I just returned from a six-day vacation in Florida to visit my friends Susan and Jeff and Melinda and Dan. Three days at Sue’s; three days at Melinda’s.

 

And how nice was I? Giving Sue and Jeff the opportunity to pick me up from the airport – and Melinda the chance to take me back there on my way outta town? Doesn’t that sound nice to you?

 

Well, but hear me out. It was nice because neither one had the responsibility of driving to the airport twice. See? Nice.

 

Plus, I figured I wouldn’t annoy either couple if I didn’t overstay my welcome – hence the three-day visit rule.

 

But lemme tell you – six days just isn’t long enough.

 

As Sue pointed out, you’ve gotta take one whole day off for travel. Okay, that’s pretty much true. Counting getting to the airport and getting back home after the trip, my travel time was about 15 hours in total. So that leaves me with basically a five-day vacation.

 

Yep, not enough time.

 

But let’s look on the bright side. I had FIVE DAYS in Florida! It was sunny every single day. It was warm. Well, according to my hosts: warm-ish. It was in the 70s. Which is way warmer than it was in Ohio. After all, when I left there was still a little snow on the ground.

 

I never once resorted to wearing my jacket. I caught Melinda, on the other hand, wearing her sweatshirt on several occasions. Guess it’s true what they say about having “thinner blood” once one moves to a warmer state.

 

It was a relaxing vacation – with just enough variety to make it perfect for me. We ate out and ate in. Sue chopped and sliced and stirred and sauteed one evening and made a delicious chicken piccata. And then the next night I was at Melinda and Dan’s and we went out to eat at a great little Italian restaurant. What did Melinda order? Yep, you guessed it – chicken piccata!

 

One morning Melinda made French toast for breakfast, which was yummy. I’d love for the story to be circuitous and report that one morning Sue, Jeff and I went out to breakfast and, weirdly, we all ordered French toast. But stuff like that just doesn’t happen in Jane’s Domain. Unless, of course, we want to pretend that it did?

 

No? Well, okay, then.

 

But we did go to the ocean a couple of times. I got sand in my toes and had the chance to listen to the waves, which is one of my most favorite sounds.

 

The first time I got a little sunburnt and the next time I got zero sun because, well, I had a brand-new bottle of 70 SPF sunscreen. Plus, we had an umbrella that kept that pesky sunshine from reaching my burnt bits.

 

So, all in all, it was a delightful, albeit short stay in the Sunshine State. I loved spending time catching up with my friends. I had a great time relaxing and reading and watching some fun new shows on TV. We drank a few glasses of wine and even went shopping a time or two. And I took some wonderfully refreshing naps almost every day without the need to get up and immediately walk Maggie Minx while still half-asleep because we were on "Maggie Time" and not "Jane Time." 

 

Yeah, it was a great time!

 

And I have to admit – it’s great being back home, too. Why? Well, because I’m not crazy about living out of a suitcase – color-coded, organized packing cubes notwithstanding.

 

And, frankly, the older I get, the more I like my own little routine. That’s perhaps another way of saying I’m getting to be an old fogie who’s set in her ways.

 

Uh oh.

 

On the other hand, we all like coming home. Don’t we?

 

One of the interesting things I discovered when I was scanning my parents’ old travel photos is that my dad tended to take a few photos at the end of their trips of their house back in Alliance – or the cottage in Cape Cod. They considered both of those places “home.”

 

Weirdly, dad took a photo of his shed...!

And Dad always wrote “Home, Sweet Home” on the photo. Every time.

 

Now, sure – he was, most likely, using up the rest of the film since most of their trips were taken back in the day when you had to get the 35 mm film developed. And you couldn’t do that until you’d used up all 24- or 36-count of photos on the roll. (Dad would never have just wasted the last few pictures in order to get the film out of the camera to take to Foto-Mat to be developed.)

 

But to me it clearly demonstrated that while mom and dad loved to travel – they also loved coming back home.

 

So I’m going to think of coming home again as a good thing.

 

I feel renewed. And at peace. And ready to get back to my checklists of tasks to finish. And back to my daily dog-walking responsibilities. And meal preparations for one. And all that other stuff that sometimes feels like the “drudgery” of routine – but that can also be the good stuff that makes up our lives.

 

And maybe – just maybe – I feel the need for a little nap coming on. (Ooh, nice!)

 

Even if I am back on "Maggie Time" and have to walk Maggie Minx before I’m ready to get up and get going again.

 

Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope you do something nice for yourselves and feel that sense of renewal, whether it’s taking a break, a vacation – or even just an occasional nap. 

Enjoy!

Leg Shaving and Other Assorted and Sundry Tasks

 

I shaved my legs today. That, my friends, is a big deal for me. I have no plans for a pedicure in the coming days, nor am I headed immediately to a pool or the beach. I just shaved my legs for the heck of it.

 

Well, I was in my brother- and sister-in-law’s hot tub the other day. So they could have potentially noticed the longer-than-the-hair-on-my-head leg hair. But it was dark. And no one got close enough to accidentally brush against my extremities to notice I wasn’t clean shaven.

 

But I digress. 

Shaving my legs is hardly earth-shattering news. "Big deal," you say? You shave your legs every day…or every third day…or once a week on Wednesdays. Or whatever leg-shaving schedule you have implemented for yourself. (Talkin' to the women now, you understand. But if you're a man and you shave your legs, well... you do you!)

 

Anyway, I used to have that kind of schedule. Certainly as a young adult I did. But since Vince passed, I don’t seem to care much if my legs are smooth – or the hair is so long it can be braided.

 

The thing is, I really can’t see the hair on my legs. It’s very light – always has been – and so it doesn’t occur to me to shave it in the shower when I absolutely cannot see what I’m doing. Plus, I’ve never had that needle-sharp stubble that can cause scarring should my hand accidentally brush against my unshaven shin.

 

Perhaps if I had a dark, gorilla-thick pelt, I’d be shaving way more regularly.  I’m not even sure that’s a good look for the gorillas, but PETA would have my hide (ha) were I to suggest they start shaving gorillas.

 

I do try to catch up on the leg-shaving thing when I’m headed for the pool or the beach. This usually results in my noticing after the fact that I’ve missed several areas with the long sprouts glistening in the sun.

 

I also try to shave my legs a couple days before a pedicure. But I haven’t been having regular pedicures lately, so the leg shaving process has flown straight out the window. The last time I did have a pedicure, I forgot to shave a couple days prior and I've always heard you shouldn't shave the same day you have an appointment. So I didn't. Well, the technician had a bright light shining on the foot basin. When I looked down, the foot-long hairs growing along my legs were clearly illuminated for all to see. Ack!

 

And, okay, so it wasn’t quite that long. Honest.

 

Nevertheless, I realize that there are a lot of things I don’t do for myself anymore that I used to do on a regular basis.

 

I was the kind of person who had towel-washing days, and weekly bed-changing schedules and silver-polishing Saturdays. The moment Vince opened a container of beef stock for the soup he was preparing, I added “beef stock” to my grocery list.

 

A lot of that kind of organization is no more. I rarely make soup, so there isn’t a need for beef stock. Instead, I pick up a container of ready-made heat-and-eat Home Chef soup.

 

When a person loses someone - especially their spouse – people are sad for them. They’re kind, consoling and caring. They figure the surviving spouse will get over the shock, then grieve, then move on. And if they haven’t been through the process themselves, they’re surprised to hear that more than two-and-a-half years later I can still get misty when I pass the containers of beef stock on the shelf at Kroger.

 

There are days still when cleaning up the kitchen seems like a monumental task. When I can’t make myself take a shower and wash my hair. Or when I don’t care if the mail piles up on the kitchen table.

 

This was not me in the Before.

 

Because I recognize this, I have little tricks to make myself care. I schedule lunches or dinners with friends and family because I would never be unkempt in public.  I plan trips to visit people because I know that interaction with others is important and good for my soul. And I invite people over to my place so I have to do more than the bare minimum in home clean-up and maintenance.

 

But this morning when I woke up, I felt like getting some things done. I stepped in the shower and washed my hair. And then I picked up the razor and started shaving my legs.

 

After I got dressed, I was motivated to strip the bed, clean the bathrooms and unload the dishwasher. I’ve already started the second load of laundry and emptied the trash cans – even though trash day isn’t until Thursday.

 

Wow. What’s come over me?

 

I’m not sure, but I’m happy to have these sorts of productive days.

 

I may have to re-implement a regular leg-shaving schedule. After all, self-care is a good thing. And if it gets me to collect the trash early without rushing around on Trash Day and then racing down the driveway with my trash can as the truck is approaching, well, that can only be a win-win.

 

Since I’ve gotten so much done, I’ve decided I’ve earned a break. So I’m writing this blog, while Maggie is snoozing on the chair across from me. But soon enough, she will be up and expecting her fourth walk of the day.

 

And then I will have to put away laundry, make the bed and prepare myself something to eat.

 

Good thing I have some ready-made, heat-and-eat Home Chef soup in the fridge, huh? (Hey, baby steps. Cooking an entire pot of soup for one just seems silly. I get sick of it far too quickly – and I find I’m not one to freeze and thaw ready-made meals. Something I should work on.)

 

Anyway, I hope you had a productive weekend and Monday. Let’s see what else is in store for the rest of the week?

 Oh, and p.s. - I didn't really have "silver-polishing Saturdays." I did, however, occasionally have grout-scrubbing Thursdays, which, in retrospect might have been a little worse than having silver-polishing Saturdays.