Attack of the Snowbird Chronicles Part 1: A Trip to Target

It was a sunny, brisk Florida morning, and I felt the need to venture out to Target for deoderant and dog food.  On the way there, I got stuck behind a blue hair going 15 miles below the speed limit (in the left lane).  Driving next to me was a grey bush, also going 15 miles below the speed limit.  I had to sit through one green arrow because the aforementioned blue hair didn't feel the need to follow the rest of the cards through the intersection in an expedient manner.  So I had a whole set of lights to sit through to calm myself down and tell myself that it doesn't matter, I'm not in a hurry, the elderly are not out to get me.  So I get to Target where I was promptly almost backed over by a white hair in a white Lincoln.  I got into Target, and was greeted by a plethora of red cart weilding elderly, many of whom were blocking the aisles, and refused to move even when I waited patiently for them to pick out cans of cream of mushroom soup in what turned out to be a painfully slow process.  One woman  had the audacity to glare at me as I tried to look around, under, and behind her cart to see the items that she had blocked from view.  Perhaps if she had parked her cart on the same side of the aisle that she was standing on, not only would my view have not been blocked, but she wouldn't have clogged up the aisle with her slow shuffling back and forth from the soup side of the aisle to the side where she left her cart.  But I digress.  I finally finished running the gauntlet of carts and their elderly counterparts and practically sprinted to the check-out.  At which point I came upon another elderly woman who was doing her best to block the thruway by pushing everyone else's discarded carts into it.  She picked up her bags, shoved her cart into the thruway, weaved through the cart maze she had created, and exited the store.  I trailed behind her with my own purchases, wanting so badly to scold her for acting like a child, which, in my opinion, was exactly how she was behaving.  God forbid anyone else might want to get out of the Target without running into a bunch of empty carts.  Where the Target employees were whose job it might have been to clean up the aisles of discarded carts is beyond me...probably cleaning up other elderly messes elsewhere in the store.  So I get to my car, but not without almost being run down by a tiny woman in a grand marquis, barely able to see over the steering wheel, handicap tag dangling from her rearview mirror.  I felt safe in the confines of my Jeep, and took a short break to brace myself for the upcoming left turn out of the parking lot and into traffic.  If that turn was to follow the way the trip had been going, odds are that I would be sitting there for a while, waiting for a member of AARP to find the balls to pull out.  The wait in line was surprisngly short, and I was swiftly on my way home.  However, as I was making a right on red while a bunch of lefties were making their turn, I was creeping forward only to slam on the brakes because an octogenarian in a knit cap and block-long Buick was making a U-turn.  She slammed on her brakes, stopped in the middle of the intersection, and laid on her horn for no less than 5 seconds, glaring at me all the while.  "I'll teach you a lesson, you young whipper-snapper" was all I saw in her expression.  What she saw in mine was probably something along the lines of, "Get the F-- out of the road you old coot!"  I threw my hands up, shouted an expletive, and pointed at her to get her giant Buick out of the intersection because I clearly was stopped, and there was no reason for her to be sitting there.  That was it, the last straw.  Beware, little knit-capped lady...you WILL end up in the hospital someday, and Lord help you if I happen to be your nurse.  That is all.  I will not be leaving the house again anytime soon. 

Where Are We Going...and Why Am I in the Hand Basket??

A lot of time has passed since my last note!  And a lot of stuff happened…some good, some bad, some indifferent.  I’ll try to be brief, although that never works!

  

The biggest change for me in the last few months has been the death of my grandma Ellringer.  She’d been declining in health since the spring and had been living in a nursing home.  Despite not feeling good, she always kept up a good attitude.  She passed away at Season’s Hospice in the outskirts of Rochester, and we couldn’t have picked a more beautiful or peaceful place.  I miss her so much, and I think about her everyday.  I brought a few things of hers with me…her pink snuggie, her watch, her kitchen apron, and a few brooches that she used to wear.  Every time I see any of things, they remind me of her, and it makes me feel like she’s close, rather than so far away.  I know that her death was a blessing, the end of a long road filled with happy adventures, and that she’s in a much better place, surrounded by her friends and family that had passed before her.  I just can’t help but think that I’m in a worse place, that my life is just a little bit more bleak without her in it.  She was the pillar of our family, the beacon in the night.  She was the first person that I would stop to see whenever I came home from a trip.  The last time Simon and I came home, we didn’t even stop back at the house to drop off our stuff…we just parked the Jeep in front of the nursing home with the trailer attached and the paddleboards strapped to the top…must have been quite a sight for the old people peering out their windows.  She always took a private little delight in knowing she got to see me before anyone else, smiling smugly in her chair as I told her that she was first.  I used to paint her fingernails, and for a woman who had lead such a conservative, straight-arrow life, she always picked the brightest colors…her favorites being sparkly purple, fire-engine red, and bright blue.  It used to make her so happy when we had matching fingernail polish.  It makes me sad to know that this will be the first of many holiday seasons spent without her, and that I have to be so far away from my family.  It’s heartbreaking to know that I’ll never hold her hand again, never brush her hair, never covet her cute little old lady blouses.  It’s like I don’t know what to do with myself without her, especially when I’m home.  I know it’ll get easier with time, but part of me doesn’t want it to…I always want her to feel this close, even if it hurts.

Wow…that was a great way to begin the note!  I’ll try to perk it up a little bit from here on out.  So the night of Grandma’s funeral, we had a huge party of sorts at my parents’ house in Eyota.  I’m pretty sure we’ve never had that many people in that house at one time, and probably never will again…unless it’s under happier circumstances.  I couldn’t even provide you with a count of how many people were there, but I can provide a count of what was consumed, in no particular order:  3 bottles of Tequila, 1 bottle of Jagermeister, 2 bottles of grenadine, 2 bottles of Windsor, 3 12-packs of squirt, 1 12-pack of 7-up, 9 pizzas, 2 cases of beer, multiple bags of chips (Old Dutch dill pickle and onion and garlic, of course), popcorn popped in bacon grease and topped with garlic salt and parmesan cheese (best.popcorn.ever.), a brick of cheese, a log of summer sausage, a can of mixed nuts, a case of coke, brownies, cake, pasta salad, and pickles…there was probably more, but I think that list is long enough!  I got to hang out with cousins, aunts, and uncles that I don’t get to see all that often, and really never see all in one place.  They kept me out in the kitchen making the pizzas and fixing the drinks, where a woman belongs, according to my brother Mike.  :P  The 21-year old Shirley Temple (tequila, grenadine, and squirt) and the Temple of Doom (jagermeister, grenadine, and squirt) were both drinks that were conceived that night, and kept my cousins and I in a near-constant state of intoxication. We ate, drank, played cards, and told stories until the wee hours of the morning.  It was the kind of party that Grandma would have joined right into with gusto, so we felt like it was an appropriate send-off for her.

I am proud to announce that my fantasy football team ended the season with a whopping 2-11 record.  Not bad, considering I didn’t think I’d get a single win at all.  Oh well, there’s always next year.  I keep falling back on the excuse that I’ve won the championship twice, it’s only to fair to let some of the other girls win once in a while, right??  ;)

So I am officially done with the Twilight books.  Not done reading them, mind you, done as in nothing would satisfy me more than to send them sailing into a dumpster.  I’ve had issues with them from the start.  I resisted reading them for the longest time, but after reading some reviews online, figured they were worth checking out, for curiosity’s sake, if nothing else.  And against all odds, I liked them.  I knew from the beginning that it wasn’t good writing (horrible, in fact), and as a collector of Stephen King books, I found myself ashamed to admit that I liked them.  I think the concept appealed to me more than the writing…who wouldn’t want to live forever, be undoubtedly strong and fast, and maybe even have a super-power of sorts?  I felt like the books appealed to that little kid in me that used to envy Spiderman, Wonder Woman, and the Transformers (even though they were alien robots…I was still envious of them).  I was just recently re-reading the third book when I threw it down in anger, claiming bullshit on the entire saga, as it’s called.  The main character sucks…I hate her, and seeing as all four books are being told from her point of view, it just kept getting more and more painful.  Usually in a series of books, the character development gets more interesting the further into it you get, but her character development just got more repulsive.  And I hate how the author wants to skip around all things sexual, violent, and anything else that might be considered untoward.  Vague comments and subtle hints at perceived violence and sex leave the reader confused and missing the point.  And I understand that these books were written for young adults, but I used to read Christopher Pike books when I was young; they had way more sex and violence in them than the Twilight books.  My point being…I wish I hadn’t wasted my time, and I wish I would have come to this conclusion sooner.  I woke up in the middle of the night last night and was so angry about seeing those books there that I almost got out of bed right then and there to throw them in the recycling bin.  If any of you out there are curious about them, as I was, let me know and I’ll ship them promptly to you, free of charge.  If not, they’re taking a trip to the library for donation…although that seems cruel to the young minds that will invariably be reading them.  I’d almost rather recycle them, if for no other reason than to take their refuse-filled pages out of circulation.

Before coming to Florida, I brushed off the nagging voice in the back of my head that told me to bring my winter coat.  I remembered wearing it a few times when were here in January, but I was told by all the locals that last winter was unseasonably cold and it wouldn’t be like that again this year.  Yeah…it was 39 degrees yesterday morning.  There was frost on the car.  Frost!  In Florida.  I know I’m not going to get any sympathy from those of you up north dealing with sub-zero temperatures, and I don’t expect any.  What I’m trying to say is, 39 degrees is cold enough no matter where you are, and I am inadequately prepared for it.  I recently bought some little stretchy gloves at Target just so I would have something to cover my hands, and I sent a pleading email to my mom to ship me my winter jacket, along with some mittens and a scarf.  Another reason I seem to be intolerant of the cold is because Simon and I drive the motorcycle everywhere, and in 40-degree weather on a bike, it might as well be snowing.  I’ve found that my fleece-lined raincoat seems to block the wind a lot better than my hoodies, so that thing has been a bit of a lifesaver.

Simon and I have come to the conclusion that our friends seem to be falling into one of two groups: training for a marathon, or in the throes of child rearing/bearing.  There are those rare instances where some fall into both categories.  It’s bizarre!  Is that what happens when we start getting into our 30’s?  As most of you know, I have no desire to have children…and even less desire to run a marathon.  I briefly toyed with the idea of running a 5K (ha…walking would have been more like it), but I never got around to doing it.  Honestly, if given the choice between having children, running a marathon, or being bald, I would probably choose being bald.  I say that now, of course, since I’m almost as far away as a person can get from being bald, and maybe my choices would be different were this a real scenario and not a hypothetical one.  I have to wonder though…having children is definitely out, so that would leave the bald or the run.  I think I would still end up bald, not because that would be my choice, but because I’m much too lazy to train for a marathon, and therefore would fail in the running attempt.  But maybe, if there was a loophole and I could just attempt the marathon, then I could keep my hair.  It’s something to ponder.  Wow…those are five minutes I’ll never get back.  In all seriousness though, I wonder if my parents and their friends were training for marathons in their 30’s as vigorously as my friends seem to be.  The children thing is definitely different, since my parents and most of their friends were mostly done having children by 30, whereas a lot of my friends are just beginning.  It’s weird to think of my parents at 30.  I actually have recollection of my mom in her early 30’s.  I remember her being pregnant with Mike.  It’s weird to think about my parents being my age right now, and to see the vast differences in the paths that we’ve chosen.  Neither path right or wrong, just different.  It works.

And as far as the kid issue goes, I should probably try to clear something up a bit.  I’ve gotten the impression that a lot of people think that I hate children.  I’m not sure if this is because I at some point may have said that (I hope not), if it’s because I’m choosing not to have my own, or if it’s because I’m really stiff and uncomfortable around kids.  Regardless of what started it, I would like to make it known that I don’t hate children.  I enjoy them from time to time, but I’m really nervous around them.  They make me feel insecure, for reasons even I don’t understand.  I feel like maybe I’ve lost my inner child, which is really sad and tragic when you stop to think about it.  Maybe it’s just a lack of use of that maternal side of me.  I always talk to children like they’re adults, and then I feel awkward when they don’t respond like adults.  I don’t know what to do with them when they’re crying or throwing a fit.  Simon, on the other hand, is the exact opposite.  Kids gravitate towards him, they love to climb on him and play with him and paint with him and show him all their toys.  I feel like kids are judging me, and I really shouldn’t even be worrying about that, they’re kids.  I want them to like me but I don’t know how to get them to like me because I’m too nervous to let loose and just be a big kid.  One would think that with all the poop talking I do and with how immature I am at times, that I would have no problem giving up to my inner kid, but I find it extremely difficult, almost impossible.  And granted, poop talking and potty mouth is not exactly the best way to interact with children, as most parents will agree.  People always say, “It’s different when it’s your own child,” and that’s probably true.  Not that my nephew is “my own,” but I got to spend a lot of time with him in the fall, and while I was uncomfortable at first, by the time they were getting ready to head back to Phoenix, I was actually playing and cuddling with him, and it didn’t feel weird at all.  I even changed his diaper, fed him, and rocked him to sleep.  Keep in mind, that he was only three months old at the time, so there wasn’t a whole lot he could adversely do to make me feel insecure.  I recently made the comment to my friend that the closest I want to get to having kids of my own is spending time with hers.  I didn’t realize at the time that that might have sounded insulting to either her or her children, as if my lack of having kids had something to do with them directly, but I didn’t mean it to be.  What I meant was that I don’t feel like I need to have my own kids, and that I am content getting my kid fix by just being around other people’s kids.  Maybe my discomfort around children stems from a lack of exposure.  I don’t know what it is, but there it is just the same.

And before anyone asks me why I’ve decided not to have children, I’ll tell you.  I just don’t want to.  Simple as that.  Life comes down to what you want to have, not necessarily what you can have.  I know I could have kids if I wanted them, but I just don’t.  Just like I don’t want a split level house, a car with only two doors, or a poodle.  People with kids might be offended by that, thinking that I’m trivializing having children by comparing it to owning a poodle, and I’m glad for that.  The people that are offended by that statement are exactly the kind of people that should be having kids.  I applaud the people that have the balls to bring children into this world, to take on the responsibility of feeding them, clothing them, educating them, and raising them to be good citizens in our society.  I just don’t have that in me.  I’m not selfless enough to give everything over to a child.  Maybe no one is until they have that little bundle in their arms, I guess I don’t know.  I have all this guilt about how I’ve behaved negatively towards my parents throughout the years.  How did they stand it?  How could they possibly still love me after some of the crap I put them through, after some of the stuff that I said to them?  How ungrateful was I to behave that way towards the two people that gave up life as they knew it to bring me into this world?  How could the good times have possibly outweighed the bad?  How would I handle that if it was my own child?  I guess maybe the blissful part about having children is that they don’t start out as little deviants, that they’re snuggly and loving and sweet.  I feel like it would just feel that much worse when they started to pull away.  I don’t know though…that’s all just speculation on my part, having no experience whatsoever to draw from.  I’m too hung up on the “what comes next” part of it, I guess.

So Simon and I had a conversation a few months back about deal breakers when it comes to relationships.  Luckily, we seem to not have an issue with deal breakers getting in the way of our courtship.  Or so I thought.  He recently told me that he almost didn’t date me because of my dogs.  I was caught completely by surprise, but in hind-sight, I have enough self-awareness to realize that I shouldn’t have been.  I’ve had dogs for so long that they’re just a part of me; I don’t picture them as a separate entity like everyone that doesn’t have dogs does.  I’ve never considered a life without dogs.  I didn’t even realize how difficult it was for him to make the decision to just deal with the dogs and date me anyway, and how close he honestly came to walking away from the four of us.  As he so eloquently put it, “I decided that I liked you more than I disliked your dogs.”  Thank goodness for that.  Who the heck knows where I would be without him?  I can’t even imagine, and honestly don’t really want to think about it.

Simon and I recently had three months off from the working world, and we spent a large majority of that living in my parents’ basement.  Not exactly the most ideal living situation, but it was free and convenient, and it ended up being a really good thing when we were in the throes of the situation Grandma.  That got us to thinking about where we would want to live, should we decide to get our own place.  We have a few criteria that we’ve decided are important to us.  1) we have to live near water.  Not just a little stream, but something that we can take our paddle boards out on.  2) we love to hike and be outdoors, so a place with adequate outdoor activities is a must.  As far as physical requirements, those are pretty much it.  We’ve got a few cities in mind: Burlington, VT has everything that we’re looking far…big lake, mountains, lots of outdoor stuff…and as a bonus Vermont is just a really cool place to live…they focus heavily on being self-sustainable and take a lot of pride in their local businesses.  We’d be really close to our good friends in Boston.  It gets really cold there in the winter though, and it’s very expensive to live there.  $250,000 gets you a 2-bedroom condo with either a 1-car garage or none at all.  Flagstaff, AZ has the mountains and the nice climate, it’s close to my brother and his wife in Phoenix, and there’s tons of stuff to do outdoors.  Flagstaff has a big bicycle culture (for Simon), and they have kind of a green attitude/lifestyle.  Unfortunately there’s not really any accessible water nearby, and political arguments aside, I’m not thrilled with the idea of living in such a red state.  If nothing else, it makes my job more frustrating.  Fort Collins, CO is close to the mountains, lots of outdoor stuff, close to our friends in Denver, snowboarding for Simon, and is the home of the New Belgium brewery, Simon’s personal fave.  I haven’t really found much negative, except the proximity to water.  I’m not about to go whitewater rafting on my paddleboard.  Ashville, NC is a Stefanie-only request, therefore it won’t ever happen, but I feel it should be mentioned anyway…tucked into the mountains of western NC, it’s close to water, hiking, and lots of outdoor activities.  They also have a somewhat green lifestyle, and all the sweet tea and BBQ I can fit in my stomach.  I’m sure there are some drawbacks, but Simon’s already vetoed it, so that’s really the only drawback that matters.  And really, it’s not close to anyone that we know, so it would be for purely selfish reasons if we moved there.  And last but not least, the city near and dear to both of our hearts is Minneapolis.  Lots of water, great restaurants, close to family and friends.  It’s too bad it gets so cold and there’s not much for hiking without a bit of a drive.  In all honesty, I really see Simon and I settling in Minnesota, mostly because of the proximity to the majority of those closest to us.  Minneapolis is also a great halfway point between my family and his family, which would be ideal.  I hate that it gets so cold, but I think being close to family and friends would be worth it.  I hope so, anyway.  So those are our cities.  Not that we’re going to be settling any time soon, but it’s fun to think about every now and then.

Proximity to family is something that’s been on my mind a lot during these past few weeks.  Before we left Minnesota, I knew that I would be missing the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s with my family and friends.  For some reason I didn’t think that would be a problem…I had gotten in a lot of friend and family time during my break from work and thought that would be enough.  Over the last few weeks, it seems to have become somewhat of an issue.  I missed the first snow, which is something I’ve never done.  I have never gone an entire winter without seeing snow.  And I know that it sounds like I’m complaining about missing out on the coldest, most miserable months of the year by spending my winter in Florida.  I know for a fact I’m just pining for the nostalgia…the hot apple cider, the coming in to a warm house from the bitter cold, the magical glitter of fresh snow, clustering around the fireplace with friends and family, holiday parties…I could go on and on about all the things that I actually do appreciate about winter.  And then reality sets in and I remember how miserable 6 months of winter really is.  So I am aware that my current situation is not as bad as I might make it out to be, because I know that cold days in Florida in the winter are still better than warm days in the winter in Minnesota.  I just miss my friends and family, more than I thought I would.  Most people that seem to ride me about being a little unhappy in Florida for the winter have never lived more than a few hours drive from their friends and families.  It’s not that I don’t get their lack of understanding, it’s just that they don’t personally know what it’s like to be so far away, especially this time of year when everyone is getting together for holiday parties and family gatherings.  I told myself that it’s just Christmas, it’s just a silly time of year chosen way back in the day by who knows what guy…it shouldn’t matter.  But when I’m out and about and all I hear is Christmas music and all I hear about is Christmas plans, I can’t help but be bitter about the fact that I have to miss all of it.  I should be home making Christmas cookies with mom, going to the mall with Dana, and attending the Christmas party with all my college friends…it doesn’t matter that I had seen most everyone during my time off in the fall, for some reason I’m having trouble accepting that it’s all going on and I don’t get to go.  It makes me sad.  And I know that I’ve chosen this lifestyle, therefore I should be afforded no sympathy…but a little empathy once in a while can’t hurt, right?  I promise to complain less about the cold days in Florida, and I won’t gloat about the warm ones…just know that no matter how cold it is back home, I still miss everyone and wish I was there.

We’re finding that the drawbacks to living in a hurricane-proof townhouse are that we don’t get cell phone reception while we’re in it.  My phone has been pretty silent during the month that we’ve been here…I don’t even remember that I have it most of the time.  It just sits there on the charger, searching for service.  Maybe I should just turn it off and call it a day.  Despite that, this does seem like a really nice place to live.  Most of the neighbors have been friendly, and if not friendly, then at least indifferent.  No one seems inconsiderate or rude.  Well…except for the woman that lives behind us who leaves her stupid wiener dogs out on her patio to bark.  After three hours of it one day Simon went over there to ask her to bring them in.  He figured he’d come across a little nicer than I would…he was probably right.  When he got over there and asked her to take them in, she said, “oh, are they barking?”  Are they barking?  What kind of a question is that?  Actually, no, we just personally take offense to the sight of them.  Of course they were barking, you nitwit.  I wouldn’t be standing here on your front step having this conversation if they weren’t.  And that right there is why it was best for Simon to go over there, rather than myself.  Other than the wiener dogs though, things are going good.  Well…except for that time I hit the garage door.  What an idiot.  So we don’t have a garage door opener in the car, so when we get home one of us has to run in and open it from the inside.  So I’m sitting in the car waiting while Simon goes in to open the garage.  I’m looking at the door, noticing that there are some dents in it.  The door starts to go up.  I’m thinking to myself, “Someone must have hit the garage door.  What kind of idiot hits a garage door?”  I start pulling forward, still thinking about how stupid some people are, when I heard a loud bang and a screw came flying down my windshield.  Shit.  I am that kind of idiot.  A) the garage is taller than I’m used to, therefore it takes longer to open all the way.  B) the paddle boards were on top of the Jeep, making it that much taller.  When all was said and done, the garage door just knocked the fin off Simon’s board, but not without getting a hefty dent in the process.  The metal bar running across the back of the door was twisted, but Simon was somehow able to get it straightened out.  But that got me thinking…I really don’t think I had hit it hard enough to cause that bar to be so twisted.  Some external dents to the door…maybe, but not to twist that bar.  We realized that after we straightened out the bar that the door actually closes smoother and more quietly than it had before.  So I’m thinking the previous hit did the damage…I’m not totally to blame, right?  I hope the homeowner feels that way when he comes over this month to pay us a visit.  Yikes.

And that my friends is probably enough for the time being.  I hope all is well, and that you and yours have a wonderful holiday season.  :)