Tag: florida

Summer Struggles… Or Bellows On

I was supposed to go to the beach today. One would think that planning a beach day in early September would be a perfectly normal and festive way to mark the passing of the lazy days of the last gasps of summer. One would not live in Florida.

The weather report for today shows thunderstorms on the way to the beach. It shows thunderstorms early enough to limit my time at the beach to about 2 hours (by the way- it is about 100 miles to the beach I planned to visit.) It shows thunderstorms all the way home once the lightning shoos me off the beach. Weather.com mentions “torrential.” I decided this morning that, as much as I wanted to go, discretion is the better part of valor.

Instead of experiencing the vibrant, refreshing smell of salt and gentle, cool water lapping over my skin during my monthly retreat day, I am in my Florida room at home reading, praying, and writing. Instead of a lovely walk through the sand for exercise and contemplation, I will be walking my steps across my living room floor in the air conditioning. A retreat day is a retreat day, so I am not complaining. I am simply observing that summer in Florida is a long way from being done. There are no “lazy days of the last gasps of summer” in the foreseeable future. Florida is dramatic when it comes to summer. There is no lingering death scene. In fact, sometimes I wonder if there is any death at all- it feels interminable. If it is going to die, it will flare out in a spectacular spontaneous combustion. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take all of us with it.

Another remnant of the summer bellows outside my bedroom window each night I’ve said it before, and I will say it again- nature is noisy. The summer is mating season for alligators. Our house backs up onto a wetland conservation zone. It is common for me to struggle to fall asleep amidst the music of horny alligators looking for a hook-up. They say that a male alligator sounds like a motorcycle starting. With some imagination, I guess that is the case. I was thinking more of those annoying vuvuzela horns people blow at soccer games- if the person blowing the horn was the Jolly Green Giant. I guess that makes sense. Alligators are the reptile version of Green Giants. And I bet they pretty jolly or at least will be if some sexy alligator hottie comes calling in response to that obnoxious mating call.

I should note that vuvuzelas make noise that can exceed 120 decibels, significantly exceeding the threshold for permanent hearing loss. Many stadiums have banned their use for exactly that reason. Someone should tell the alligators.

I have a friend who insists that alligators cannot climb simply because she doesn’t want to entertain the possibility. They empirically CAN climb but she prefers to push that fact of nature out of her brain. It is far more comfortable to live in Florida if you don’t think too hard about the many ways an alligator could secure access to your living space. Alligators are not usually running around (and they can run!) trying to enter a human house or even garage, but they do not understand the concept of property lines. It is not uncommon to see them in yards or golf courses within subdivisions. People say that if you have a glass of water in Florida, there WILL be an alligator trying to get into it. If they stayed in the glass of water, we could all live in peace. However, they often go in search of other bodies of water… or in search of a frisky female.

When we first moved to Florida, I tried to adopt the attitude of denial that my friend employs to ignore the idea that some of my neighbors might have scales. In fact, I heard some suspiciously alligator-like noise but told myself it was some kind of bird or frog. Truthfully, a bird or a frog big enough to make the kind of noise I was hearing would be at least as frightening as an alligator. It would be a freak of nature. We had a worker out to close our soffits (to prevent squirrels from getting into our attic, not alligators- I am not that paranoid.)  He mentioned that he was hearing a bull alligator behind the house as he worked. I told him I thought it was a bullfrog. He looked at me like I was demented but did not debate with me. I had not paid him yet.

However, I have since seen an alligator in the backyard. During COVID, Max was looking out the window and said to me, “Is that an alligator?”  I defaulted to denial and said, “Oh no, it is just a tree root.”  Then the tree root moved. It was an alligator, and he was out for a little stroll. We watched as he ambled through eight or so backyards before heading back down into the wetlands. He was a big fella, too. We regularly see juvenile males who have been kicked out of a given body of water because the fully grown males are starting to see them as a threat. The Jolly Green Giant in the backyard was at least seven feet long. That was the day I faced up to the fact that not all my non-human neighbors are fuzzy and cute.

As long as the weather is too volatile to go to the beach…. As long as I am drinking the air I breathe…. As long as I still hear alligators trumpeting on reptile Tinder…. It is still summer. Make it stop, please!

Is it still unrelentingly summer where you are? How can you tell? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.

Have a cool day!

Terri/Dorry 🙂

Florida Woman

As of last week, I have been a Florida resident for ten years. An entire decade of my life. I am having a tough time wrapping my head around that fact. It seems like just a moment or two has passed since Max and I encountered the sudden jolt to our systems of moving and turning our world upside down… and sideways.

Just a second ago, we were preparing to celebrate our first Christmas in the South… without family, without friends, without even a Christmas tree. My mother considered this situation to be the eleventh circle of hell. She sent us presents (even though we celebrated an early Christmas at Thanksgiving, before we left California) because she could not bear the idea that I would have nothing to open on Christmas morning. I was 55 years old. She also had Amazon send me a small, pre-lit Christmas tree. It stood, forlornly, in a corner with no ornaments or any additional decoration amidst the boxes and piles of unpacking still taunting me. I remember bracing myself for that Christmas, expecting to hurt and feel bereft to the bone. It ended up not being so bad. Max and I had been so busy and stressed since the end of November, it felt kind of nice to take a “silent night” or two.

In all, it seems surreal to think that time was ten whole years ago. On the other hand, I can look at all the major life events that have happened since we moved to Florida and wonder if there ever was a life before the one I am living now.

  • I had new, meaningful experiences with my mother that built beautiful memory castles in my mind.
  • I celebrated ten additional anniversaries with Max, maturing and enriching our exquisite relationship. We lived through so many shared experiences and so much mutual vulnerability in our new surroundings.
  • I walked with my mother for 13 months on her end-of-life journey after a catastrophic stroke.
  • Four close family members died.
  • I lived through multiple hurricanes.
  • There was a worldwide pandemic.
  • I released three books.
  • I published 412 blog posts, totaling approximately 452,000 words.
  • I’ve petted, fed, and swam with an entire menagerie of land and sea creatures.
  • I’ve healed from past trauma in a way that I never dreamed possible.
  • I lost and gained weight about 1,468 times, give or take a few hundred.
  • I vacationed approximately twenty times, including visits to places I have never been before- New England, Charleston, Savannah, and Tennessee.
  • I revisited the first home I remember in New York and let my soul live there for a time.
  • I converted to a new Christian denomination.
  • I worked as a chaplain, vestry member, teacher, project coordinator, temporary office worker, meal delivery person, and other service positions in a new church.
  • I made numerous friends who I now call “family.”

Put in this context, the perspective is all cattywampus. The ten years no longer feels like an instant. How could all this have happened in only ten years? No wonder it sometimes feels like I must schedule time just to take a breath! Yes, it has truly been a lifetime since we moved to Florida. I have lived that lifetime thoroughly and well.

Have a valuable day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Do you feel you have lived your life well and thoroughly since retirement?  How so?  If not, what can you do now to enrich your retirement experience?

Warning: Mandatory Annual Summer Weather Whine Ahead

It is that time of year again… time for me to vent about how uncomfortable and inconvenient the weather in Florida can be during the summer.  Summer happens from May through all of October here, so I think I am entitled to rage against the rain.  Last year, we had a relatively mild summer.  I made it to September before I published my mandatory annual summer weather whine.  I fear that will not be the case in 2021. 

You know how people use all those lovely poetic similes to describe weather… a blanket of snow, a blanket of fog, a veil of mist, etc.?  In Florida, we have a blanket of mug.  For almost half the year, our air is too heavy to breathe.  When I was a child in Southern California, there were sometimes smog alerts.  We were encouraged to stay inside and to avoid breathing.  Smog was nothing compared to the liquid-laden air we are expected to inhale in central Florida. 

When I began writing this piece, on June 13, the summer mug descended upon us.  I realize that the calendar says it is not yet summer, but someone forgot to tell Mother Nature.  When I went into church that morning, it looked like a beautiful spring day.  Some time during the service, a noise began to rise through the rafters of the church.  At first, I thought it might be our air conditioner, which always starts with an overture.  Soon, however, I realized it was the sound of driving rain whooshing through the atmosphere and pelting the roof of the church.  God confirmed this understanding by sending several huge cracks of thunder bellowing through my cognizance.  Then, lightning flashed through our stained-glass windows.  It was a “thunderwower.”

It is now June 17th, and the rain has not stopped for more than a few hours since.  The respite provided by those “few hours” is not all that relieving because the cooler air that typically appears when the rain cracks the humidity barrier is very short-lived.  It is a constant unpleasant cycle of heightened heat and humidity, interrupted briefly by a thunderwower when the cloudburst cools things off and lances the boil of the water-heavy air, only to find the atmosphere building sog once again when the shower has passed. The weather teases in this way, making us believe that there is going to be a break but the discomfort marches on.  The worst part is that it is already difficult to see the light at the end of the lightning.  It feels like the summer weather will NEVER stop.  I look at pictures of myself at Disney World last December wearing a jacket, jeans, and UGGs.  I cannot quite believe that time will ever come again.

It is not simply the discomfort of the weather that is the problem.  I am one of those people who genuinely enjoys planning the simplest of activities and looking forward to them.  I am not really a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment kind of gal.  I delight in scheduling fun activities weeks ahead of time. I get excited as the appointed day gets closer.  In the summer, planning and scheduling any activity is a fool’s errand.  Obviously, outdoor activities are weather-dependent.  Even indoor activities are iffy because it is common for the storms to be so bad that one cannot see the road in front of them when driving.   I cannot even schedule a series of back-up plans because the weather is so contrary and unpredictable.  We never know what the skies will bring even a day ahead of time.  Plans are wishes and schedules are fantasies.  This makes me fidgety. 

I am afraid that I am not the most pleasant of companions from June to October.  You know how some people have that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and need light treatment to replicate sun exposure?  I have something like that.  It is not so much lack of sun.  After all, Florida is the “Sunshine State.”  Why it is the “Sunshine State,” I am not sure, considering how much it rains.  Still, there is plenty of sunshine… just like there is plenty of sunshine on Venus.  It is more that the rain, humidity, and inability to look forward to fun activities feels oppressive to me.  My mood feels as heavy as the air.  I try to be self-aware.  I try to force myself to be engaged and pleasant.  Sometimes, I succeed.   

Last summer, I think I was more tolerant of the wicked weather partly because the summer was milder but also because we were in the midst of COVID-19 lockdown.  I could not go out and do things, anyway.  It seemed churlish and insensitive to complain about my life being limited by weather when there was a much more serious limitation stalking all of us.  This year, I am even less tolerant than usual.  It feels like the world is finally opening and the weather is pushing the door shut again. 

I know I am being petulant and whiny. I know that I made the choice to live in Florida.  I know that I like living here for the most part.  I know I am raging about something that would be no big deal to just about anybody who does not live in Florida.  Frankly, it would not be a big deal to most people who DO live in Florida.  I do not care.  This is my blog, and I will cry if I want to!

What do you like or dislike most about where you live?  Please share your perspective by leaving a comment.  In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com. 

Have a whine-free day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

Ok; It Is Freakin’ Hot

Maybe I am finally becoming a Floridian.  This is the sixth summer I have spent in Florida and I have managed to squelch my annual whine about the weather until the beginning of September.  I am sure the new air conditioner I installed a couple of years ago has not hurt my climate adaptability, either.

Whether my increased tolerance of Florida’s summer weather stems from my disposition slowly morphing into “Floridian” or from a better air conditioning system, I am proud that I have held out until now.  June, July, August… you have not heard me bitching about the heat, humidity, thunderstorms, or general sogginess of the climate.  Still, I now have to say I have reached the end of my tolerance.  

It’s freakin’ hot. 

The news says the temperatures this summer have been well above normal.  In fact, for most of the summer, the mercury has been breaking records.  Because of the COVID-19 restrictions and closures, it did not make much difference since I was mostly inside, enjoying the air conditioning and the highest electric bill I have ever received.  I always said that I figured the COVID-19 quarantines would lift just about the same time as our summer weather comfort quarantine would hit.  I was right.  In the summer, the weather is often too hot, too rainy, too humid, and too unstable to make plans.  It is not that the weather ALWAYS keeps people from doing things, but it COULD keep people from doing things at any time.  You can sometimes get lucky and spontaneously enjoy some outdoor activity, but you can never rely on a plan to do something because the weather will likely make other plans.  For someone like myself, who is not that spontaneous, it is frustrating.  This year, the whole outside world is frustrating and unstable, so maybe the weather is not infuriating me as much. 

Recently, though, I have started to wilt noticeably.  Part of my challenge is that I have started going out to do things that I have missed since COVID-19 shut down the world.  To add to the weather challenges, these activities require me to wear face coverings.  Central Florida in the summer always makes me feel like I am breathing water.  With a mask covering my breathing apparatus while wandering around a Disney park on a “feels like” 106-degree day, it is like I am breathing an old, wet, soggy, wash rag.  Funny, my lungs seem to prefer air.  At least, as I recall.  It has been awhile since my lungs sucked down some unhumidified air. 

I am sure many of you are yelling at your computer screen and calling me all sorts of names because, really, what do I expect, wandering around a theme park in the middle of the summer?  I would normally never go to Disney in the heat of the summer.  There is no way I would pay regular admission to get the truncated Disney experience right now.  With the annual pass, though, it does not cost me anything, and I really, really wanted to experience what “Disney without crowds” feels like.  I have been able to get on all the rides that were unavailable prior to COVID-19 due to massive attendance.  I also find it fascinating to examine the creative strategies Disney employees to manage social distancing and other safety protocols. 

But I digress.  This blog is not about Disney World.  It is about my ability, or lack thereof, to weather the weather. 

As I said, I’ve been a pretty good sport about the weather this year. I have maintained a sunny disposition and avoided weather-induced crankiness, for the most part. The last week or two have been my Waterloo, however.  It was like, suddenly, the immensity and oppression of the “heamidity” whacked the constitution clear out of me.  I have valiantly wrestled with the weather for the past three months and now, the weather has me pinned.  Somebody slap the mat, please!  Put me out of my misery. 

We are slowly slugging our way through the humidity to autumn, at least by the calendar’s reckoning.  I have been in Florida long enough to know that the climate usually does a pretty sucky job reading the calendar, but a girl can hope.  I am three weeks away from a sudden trip and Fall.  At least, I hope I am.

In reality, September is often the worst month because there is little if any relief from the heat and humidity.  Every hurricane that has been a realistic threat for our part of the state since we have lived here has occurred in September, which makes me a little hesitant to proclaim September 21 the end of the Florida summer boil. 

At some point, I look forward to not sweating while actually in the shower.  I look forward to days when my air conditioner will run a sprint, rather than a marathon. I look forward to being able to walk out my front door without my glasses fogging up. I look forward to not feeling sticky icky every hour of the day. 

Right now, all these goals seem like impossible dreams.  There is some hope that autumn will come, and the weather will eventually change.  Starbuck’s has started selling pumpkin scones. 

It is too hot and I am too lethargic to think of a question this week, but feel free to use the comments as a space to vent your own personal weather whine!

Have an air-conditioned day!

Terri/Dorry 😊

It’s Not The Heat; It’s The Humidity

Summer has different associations for everyone. Some people think of beaches, vacations, school being out, longer days, picnics, or the smell of fresh peaches.  I sometimes think it is my goal in life to change your core association with summer.  When you think “summer,” do you think “time for Terri’s annual whine about the Florida weather?” Yes? Then I’ve succeeded.

The other day, I saw a post on Facebook that said, “Lord, whatever you are baking out there- it’s done.”  It seemed highly appropriate.  The temperature zipped up to the mid-nineties this past week, with little fanfare or buildup. The term “baked” was spot on.  It was more of a California kind of a mid-nineties heat than a Florida heat.  The sun glared. It took little or no time to start to feel hot as Max and I tramped around an outdoor shopping mall.  Strangely, the weather seemed really bearable to me, though.  It was dry and quiet.  The sky was clear and clean.  It was easy enough to feel immediate relief from the heat. All we had to do was simply step out of the sun into the shade. 

The day is coming, any time now, when this will all change.  The sky will darken, the air will sog, and the moisture in the atmosphere will be impossible to escape.  At any given moment, the angry, painful-looking clouds that are obscuring the sky will crack open and furious rain will accompany the heat.  There will be thunder so loud you have to shout to be heard over it.  Chain lightning will be a daily occurrence.  People who try to make the best of things will tell you that the rain is really good because it brings the temperature down.  That may be accurate, but I’m not sure.  The temperature may go down, but the humidity is so heavy you can’t really tell.  In fact, it is sometimes difficult to know when a storm has passed because the rain is followed by steam.  The only clue that the storm may be over is that you no longer have to yell over the sound 0f rain brutally assaulting the roof.  

This past week’s heat has been dry and clean, like a towel fresh out of the dryer.  No one likes a towel fresh out of the dryer being stuffed over her nose and mouth, impeding the ability to breathe.  If the weather gets so hot that you can’t draw air without scorching your lungs, then that isn’t a good thing.  However, I think there is a pleasantness to having that warm towel close to my face.  It harkens back to childhood and safety and helps when I have a sinus headache.  On the other hand, a towel dipped in super-heated water stuffed, sopping wet, into my personal space, is not my idea of a good time. I think we are getting ready to take the towels out of the washer very soon now.  Breathing in dense, wet, terry cloth has absolutely nothing to recommend it.  Breathing the hot, humid summer air in Florida is pretty much like that. 

You see, its not the baking; it’s the boiling that is the problem with Florida summers!

Update:  I wrote this a couple of weeks ago.  Rest assured that, since then, we are out of the frying pan and into the crock pot.  God is making a big tasty batch of Florida soup and I fear it is going to be simmering nonstop until November.  Any suggestions on how to stay comfortable while slow-cooking in a pot of soggy atmosphere?  Please share your perspective by leaving a comment.  In the alterative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com. 

Hope you stay out of hot water today!

Terri/Dorry 😊

P.S. I seem to be a week ahead of myself.   When I posted last week’s piece, I was convinced that Fathers’ Day was on June 9th.  I learned I was wrong last Friday.  Therefore, I’d like to wish all you dads a happy Fathers’ Day NOW that the correct day is this coming Sunday.