Did you know celery has fat in it?

What kind of crap is that? Richard Simmons used to say that veggies were free foods, you could eat as many as you wanted and they didn't count. So we did! Who knew we were still "chewing the fat"?

So why do I care about celery, you ask. Well, I care because the health insurance companies keep telling me that I'm not in their range for coverage because my Body Fat Index isn't less than 24%. What? Really?

Ok, let me start again. I jump in too fast. Sometimes I'm bad that way. Oh, and this is going to be short because that's just how I feel today.

Here's the generally accepted chart.

Body Fat Percentage Categories
Classification	Women (% fat)	Men (% fat)
Essential Fat	10-12%	2-4%
Athletes	14-20%	6-13%
Fitness	21-24%	14-17%
Acceptable	25-31%	18-25%
Obese	32%+	25%+

I am in the "acceptable" category. Firmly in the acceptable category. But based on my weight and my height, my BMI is too high. Which makes my Body Fat index too high for coverage.

If they'd accept me at all, some companies want to charge me an additional $1,000 a month to offset the fact that I'm not below 24%. So, if paying an extra $1,000 a month is Plan A, we're moving onto Plan B.

Get below 24%.

I don't have far to go. Like I said, I'm firmly in the "Acceptable" range. But some lifestyle changes are going to be necessary.

For example, we're buying bicycles. We've been looking at some basic models from Walmart since we don't want to spend a lot of money right now. I think it's come down to a few retro style cruisers with wide, whitewall tires so we can ride around the resort after the sun goes down at night, and plus they'll work well out on Honeymoon Island on the sandy bike trails.

We're also changing our diets up a bit. I'm doing protein shakes and veggies during the day with a protein and veggie for dinner. Patrick is allowing me to change his diet a bit, too, and cut out the extra foods that are holding us where we are. Dinners out are also going away. Can't keep track of what's in the sauces or the dressings, so it's better just to grill it up here at home.

I've even got my food journal and my measurement journal all ready to go, so Mondays I can pull out that measuring tape and see my progress once I pop the numbers into the excel spreadsheet I downloaded. My handy dandy charts and graphs will hopefully keep my spirits up as I see the numbers go down. If not, I'm going to stick a big blowup copy of a  $1,000 bill above my desk here and stare at it until I'm too depressed to eat. One way or another, we're going to get below that 24%. Oh yes we are.

Now where did I hide that body double?

Full-timing isn't for the faint at heart

So when we started this adventure, we really thought we'd stay in the RV maybe 2 months. After all, the deal we got at the resort was buy one month, get one month free. Bonus! It took Patrick approximately 5 weeks to get a job here in Tampa, and we really thought we'd probably extend out that stay in the RV one more month, just in case we didn't hit the goal in the first 8 weeks. But when they emailed to say he was starting this past Monday, suddenly we had to decide what our plans were.

It wasn't that we weren't already talking about extending our stay here. Most of this park is full of people who have lived in their RV's for years. The guy and his wife next to us are on year 17 in that same spot. Other people around the park that we've befriended have celebrated 6, 10 and even 12 years in their rigs. Which is great. Except. Well, they're in much more than 310 square feet. Some of these rigs are 45 to 53 feet long with multiple slides (some even have 2 full bathrooms in them). You're talking 450 square feet and up. Like I said before, my first NJ apartment was the size of a two-car garage, and it's do-able with that kind of footage underneath you.

But what we're in now is comparable to a walk-up in Brooklyn. I take that back, as I've actually been in an efficiency in Brooklyn with  more space.

So when the discussion came up seriously the other day as to whether we stay or not (since we are almost at our 8 week deadline to decide), we looked at each other trepidatiously and began discussing it.

Besides the size, there are several things that are different from house living. Let's start with the good, since I'm a mostly optimistic person.

There is only 310 square feet to clean. Yay! As Nana so truthfully told my husband when I married him, I hate cleaning. OMG. I hate cleaning. Let me say that again. I HATE CLEANING. It's not that I don't do it. It's not that I don't do it well. As  a matter of fact, I probably do it well so I don't have to do it again any time soon. But I hate it. So 310 square feet is perfect for me. It takes me 3 minutes to sweep the floor with the broom. It takes me 5 minutes to Swiffer it. Vacuumming takes about 8 minutes. The hardest part is making the bed because of how our camper is set up, so that actually takes about 43 minutes just to get the sheets on.

This is a diagram of how our trailer looked when we bought it. Do you see the master bedroom in the photo below? See those cabinets on either side of the mattress? Yeah, that design sucks. Let me say that again because it's the truest thing I've ever said - EVER. THAT DESIGN SUCKS!!!

You literally have to fold the foam mattress in half with one person on each side of the bed holding the sheet on for dear life, and then slowly, ever so slowly, roll the foam back until - dammit - the flipping sheet snapped off again. (Yeah, that's how it goes for 43 minutes. You want to talk about being too pissed off to sleep?!?)

But I digress.

What else is different in full-timing? Well, laundry. I was skyping with Jaryd just yesterday and as I gave him a tour around our humble abode and showed him what we've changed out, all the poor kid could see was clothes hanging around the cabin. Being that you can't have clotheslines outside due to aesthetics, we have to hang everything inside. So first thing in the morning on laundry days, I trudge over in the heat to the laundry room (we have 4 so we have a good selection of them) and I do our loads, bringing back the shirts and dress pants to hang dry. In our houses, we had metal racks we put up in unused rooms and let the clothes hang dry behind closed doors. Not in the trailer. Oh, no, if there is a place that I can put the hook of a hanger, there is a piece of laundry hanging on it. So most of the day and evening on laundry day is nothing more than weaving your way through the jungle of hanging damp garments. Thank goodness, with our (sub-par for the RV size) air conditioning unit, they will finally dry in about 12 hours.

Oh, here's a good one. The toilet system.

If you have an RV, you know that there is a tank (called the "black tank") under your toilet that holds waste until you decide to open the valve to let it flush out. You also know this is NOT a septic tank and is nothing more than a an enclosed plastic bin hung by straps to the bottom of your rig. Onto this plastic box of 40 gallons, you attach a hose that leads to the sewer/septic connection for the park. (We have public sewer here, so no septic smell. Bonus!) In between the tank and the hose you connect, you know there is a knife valve that either holds in the contents of the tank or lets them flow freely through the attached hose. (Watch the movie "RV" with Robin Williams in it for what happens if this system doesn't work properly.)

Here is a teaser:

At any rate, if you have an RV, you also know that the knife valve needs to remain shut on the black tank (poop holder) until it becomes 3/4 full, lest you have pyramid poop clogs and all sorts of other nasty things happening to the most important system on your rig (let's not even discuss that right now). Plus, when it's 3/4 full, it does a full flush of the tank by the pressure of the water trying to exit the tank through one tiny little 3" hole, so you get a good clean tank. Well, the joy in holding a tank closed, as the manufacturer tells you do and as good common sense directs, also leads to smell. Yes, there are chemicals and bacteria to put into the tank. Yes, they even sometimes help. But we're in Florida. Not only are we in Florida, but we are in Florida IN THE SUMMER. It's 93 on any given day. It's mostly sunny, although we are in monsoon season, but sun leads to increased heat, and increased heat leads to, well, let's just say, Methane Buildup. Yep, that's right. Monstrous methane buildup in the black tank. So where does that smell go?

Theoretically, the smell should come back up the system and go out the vent pipe in the roof the RV, venting peacefully off into the atmosphere, like it does in your house (yes, methane vents out of your roof from your sewer/septic system through the vent pipe in your walls. Don't get freaked out by this.).

Guess what? As in any other realm, there is a far leap between theoretical ideas and actual experience.

In two days, even with stuff added to the tank that is supposed to control the smell, Holy Lord, does that methane stink!?! I keep a can of Febreze over the toilet and when I'm flushing with one hand, I'm spraying with another. By day four, when we reach 3/4 full, the smell can knock you out. Now granted, when you first empty the tank and close the knife valve, before you even go to the bathroom in it again, you are supposed to fill it 1/4 full with fresh, clean water. This water helps dissolve the special RV/boat toilet paper you are supposed to use to avoid nasty clogs and, like I said before, keep the pyramid poops from forming (YOU DO NOT WANT PYRAMID POOPS! If you get them, you pay the entire cost of the RV to have someone come in and change out your black tank. At that rate, just dump it on the side of the road and write it off because no one is going to deal with your pyramid poops.) So the smell isn't so bad for the first day, or even the second day, since we've got city water here and it's treated. But come visit me on day 3 and you'll wonder if you'll ever go camping again...

That leads me to a funny story about DeShawn, one of our foster kids, and our summer down the Jersey shore, where the methane leaked into the trailer for 2 weeks while we were up at home. DeShawn was the first one to bound into the RV when I opened the door and if you've never seen a fairly dark black kid go in dark but literally come out GREEN, it's a laugh riot. That's not to say I tortured my foster kids, but hey, he was just shy of adulthood, he was taking that risk on his own.  And I thought the 5 of us standing on the outside of the camper still were going to pee our pants from laughing so hard.

At any rate, please don't let me scare you off. Like I said before, there are up sides to living in a rig. Other than the lock breaking on the door that needed fixed, the plastic water pipes bending and cracking, the leaky valves at the sinks and tub, the kitchen sink seal that dissolved with age and had to be replaced, the fuses that blow pretty frequently and leave us without lights, the storage space that only holds about 7 days worth of clothes for each of us, the metal steps that have rusted in 6 years and are slowly breaking off from the RV, the random water leaks in torrential rains, the hot water tank that only holds 6 gallons of water, the need to tighten the stabilizer jacks once a week so you don't rock and sway yourself off the hitch stand, the fact that you have to turn the AC off to use the microwave, coffee maker or the convection oven, and the walls that are only 2 inches thick so you hear everything around you and everyone can hear you if they're close enough, it's actually not bad living.

We changed out the J-sofa (named for the jackknife action of it, and not because my son Jay used to sleep on it) for a dual reclining loveseat and we tore out the dinette to put in a dining room table that we are using as a double desk. The rocker chair you see in the photo is now on the patio outside and we put up a screen room with a nice 7 piece iron set with cushions that we bought off Craigslist. Patrick's plan is to put a fairly large TV out there and make it a man-screenroom. The outdoor kitchen is set up with a pantry cabinet, 2 grills and a prep table, with a toaster/convection/regular oven inside the RV under the microwave. We use Patrick's monitor on it's swing arm when what we want to watch is online instead of on the regular TV. And we've moved in as many of the comforts from home as we could. Even most of my 20-year-old houseplants survived the trip and are in front of me on the desk enjoying the UV rays coming through the slide windows.

So I guess we'll probably stay here another year. That said, we've already put some stipulations on that. For example, if Jaryd (and Nori) were to move back with us, we'd have to get a rental unit of some sort. Or if this rig finally gives up the ghost, being that it's meant for weekends a few times a year and not the steady pounding of daily living, we'll definitely have to find something more permanent. But for now, we're comfortable. And we've gotten to the point where we know things are going to break, sometimes on a daily or weekly basis, so we're working around those things.

After all, we do have a pretty nice yard where I can plant flowers and shrubbery, and they'll let us put up a deck and install patio stones to expand our outdoor flooring area. And the amenities in the resort are very nice - between the pool and the landscaping and the boat launch and the clubhouse and most of the people who work here, not to mention the activities schedule. And on top of it, staying here is half the price of renting, which is great because we could really use the break to pay off some bills that have accumulated over the last couple years.

So, after all our discussions, I guess it's safe to say we'll stay for a while...methane smell be damned, of course!

Changes, alterations and modifications

I know, I know, it's been two weeks since my last confession. I just haven't had time to have a deep thought or even a funny one! Time has sped up to lunacy speed this month and I can't keep track of where I'm going from one minute to the next. So many things have gone on, so much needs to be done on a daily basis. It's almost impossible to keep up with the different schedule now.

However, the one thing that has been constant since we arrived here, heck, even since way back in September of 2009, is change.

Most of you know that story. Man has a good job in a defense company. Democrat (socialist) gets elected to office. Democrat cuts all defense spending and man loses good job. Hence, man's family is put into a tailspin with their lives and 22 months later, here we are now.

3 moves in 2 years. Buy stuff, sell stuff. 4 different cars in 10 months. And now our 3-person group is split across 1200 miles.

It's been a challenge to keep going. The phone doesn't ring often enough. No calls from Jaryd upsets me, and no calls from hiring managers upsets Patrick. Together, we sit and stare at the phones most of the day willing them to ring. (Note: He's winning. Jaryd, CALL YOUR MOTHER.)

But one thing that's for certain is that our marriage is under a deep amount of testing every day. If you think it's hard to live with someone in 1200 square feet or more (I know some of you have huge houses), imagine being locked into one room of your house with your spouse for 31 days. We spend 24 hours each day together in a space the size of a middle bedroom. Sure, we can go outside if we want, but mostly we're attached at the hip. The only real time we've had away from each other is doing hygiene rituals, where it's just not feasible to fit two people together in a room that small.

But we're doing ok. In 31 days, we've had 2 fights, neither too serious, both over within an hour or so with no lasting implications. Our most common bone of contention comes with the discussion of "inside" versus "outside".

You see, it's summer in Florida. Which means it's hot. Not Palm Springs or Death Valley hot. But days are 90-95, and now with the humidity, the heat index is around 100-105 each day. Nothing we can't handle from a past of humid, stagnant Ohio summers or summers in New Jersey, where for a few weeks, barely a breeze would blow by in the 97 degree heat. But I really thought Patrick would have a problem with it, and our staying here depended on his acceptance of these 3.5 months of continual, no-relief-in-sight heat.

Comes to be that he loves it! I don't mean he can deal with it as we walk the dogs or go to the clubhouse to play some pool. I mean, LOVES it. He wants to sit in it, "bathe" in it, relax in it, spend his hours in it. And he wants me to join him.

I, on the other hand, am totally for air conditioning. Ok, fine, our system isn't the best in the RV as it's 81 in here most days with 2 humans, 2 dogs, a cat and 2 computers on; it's still 15 degree warmer when you step outside. I'm sorry, I like it "cool". Ok, I'm not sorry - I just like it cool!

So most days, it's a tug-o-war to see who's going to win. He's resorted to tricks, like, let's go for  ride (in the air conditioning) and then he gets me to a shoreline somewhere and makes me get out of the car to walk it with him. Or, he'll put down the windows while we're driving so there is a heated furnace blast blowing in from the asphalt at us.

Now granted, he does have reason for this. Whatever struck him at the Westview house has completely changed how he has to live. Cold, chilly weather caused his body to lock up and during the Ohio winters, it was impossible for him to get out of bed in the mornings due to horrible pain and stiffness. He would drain the hot water tank while taking a shower upon dragging himself in there just to unlock his joints. Here, when he gets up, he's moving. And he's moving good. After a little while outside, he's like his old self and working as a well-oiled machine. I can't believe the difference.

He's also anxious to go walking - not only around the park but to places where you have to walk all day, Epcot, Sea World, Cape Canaveral. It brings back a memory of last year when we went to Colonial Williamsburg on a weekend where it was 96 degrees every day and he jogged around that place like it was nothing. It's amazing the change in him.

It's just one of many modifications that have been made since we've been here. There's been others, like  when I had him take out the curtain rod in the shower and put in an extender rod in there. Please, people, if you have an RV with a regular shower using a curtain rod, you have to invest in one of these:

Extendable shower rod

It is the best thing on the market. We put a PEVA shower curtain in there so there wasn't any hard vinyl corners and this thing makes showering a pleasure. Even if you just have a small shower at home, go find yourself one. I can't tell you how great it is. (And then, when you're doing laundry and you need a place to hang stuff, it folds into the shower so you can drip dry your unmentionables. Awesome!)

Another thing we've changed is how we store things. I've always loved Command hooks, but we have become vertical storage commandos with those things. Just sitting here right now, I can see 20+ things around me hanging on the walls, held up inconspicuously by Command products.

We've even modified the stuff we eat. Without any way to boil water or use a frying pan, as I refuse to use the stove inside the RV, we are living carb-free for the most part. No pastas, large loaves of Italian breads, or fried foods. None of that stuff. We're grilled meat and veggies most days, with 2 days a week saved for fish. I walked in front a full-length mirror yesterday for the first time in a month and was amazed at what I saw in changes to my body. In Patrick's case, I've been wolf-calling at him this whole time as I can see him slimming down right in front of me but I didn't realize I, too, was being altered by our new healthier and lighter diet.

It wasn't fully unintentional. I did want to lose weight and slim down, as I have a delightful blue and white polka-dotted bathing suit of my grandmother's, in a true rock-a-billy style, that I want to fit into. It's from the forties, maybe fifties, and the look of this piece is absolutely darling. It's in immaculate shape, I don't know that it's ever been worn; but if you knew my grandmother, you'd know she was 4'11" and at her heaviest, a size 14. That's a foot shorter than me and she weighed half of what I do. There's no tag on it, so I can't tell it's size, but it is much smaller than the clothes I currently wear. So I do have a way to go; I have that bathing suit hanging at the foot of the bed on the wall, so I can see it when I wake up, when I'm cooking and when I go to bed. It's going to encourage me to alter myself in this process.

So that's what's been going on and where I've been. Nothing too exciting has happened, but all-in-all, we're still glad to have made the move and are enjoying our location. Please pray, if you get a second, that some work comes through and then we'll be fine. It's the last major change we need to happen (other than maybe convincing Jaryd and Nori to go to school in Florida!).

Until next time...May all the changes in your life be positive, happy and healthy ones! God bless.

Recalculating.

She drives me nuts. I mean REALLY NUTS. Her voice is like nails down a chalkboard for me.

When I first brought her home for Patrick, it was for our 10 year anniversary and we were heading to Connecticut so the kids from Vernon United Methodist could go see Rock the Sound. He needed her because I'm not always around, and since I'm usually the one directing our existence, someone else telling him where to go in my absence seemed like a good idea to me at the time. He named her "Tammie 2", and at first I was honored. What a sweet thing to do!

However, not only did I not realize how jealous I was going to be over her, but I just didn't know how much her existence was going to bother me. He fondly started calling her by his new nickname for her, "T2", and he took her everywhere. Fine. I could have dealt with the fact that she was going along with us for the ride, but she was just so annoying, talking "trash" all the time, getting bitchy when someone made a misstep.

It got to the point that I actually tried to change her personality. I made her male and Australian. Well, that didn't work. It was like Crocodile Dundee had suddenly joined our marriage.

Ok, let's go British. That was even worse. It was one step higher than listening to Ozzy telling us what was up ahead. Patrick made me change the accent back to American and I thought maybe I had gotten away with adding another male to our life, but it wasn't long until he glared at me and told me he wasn't comfortable with a man telling him where to go.

FINE! Back to her. Ugh.

I hate her. Well, I don't hate her, let's just say it's a strong dislike!


But I digress.

I don't know where my navigating skills came from. It's uncanny, if I do say so myself, how I can find my way in places I've never been, without using any form of navigating device besides the sun. But I do it. And I'm good at it. And he has always been in awe of my ability to get us there and home without using much planning at all. But here was this woman again, telling my husband where to go!

And of all things - she was giving him directions that didn't match mine! And he was following hers!

Um, hello?

Oh no he didn't. (Oh, yes he did!)

I had to resist the urge of throwing her out of the car. I mean, really, she was there to help him come home to me. She was designed to get him to where he needed to go. But how dare she take my place. I was furious. And her voice, it seemed to taunt me, to egg me on and remind me that he trusted her capabilities more than he trusted mine. I couldn't take it anymore. I banned her from our relationship for quite a long time.

It wasn't until we were living in Ohio and he was driving to Cleveland where she became a major force in his life again. He would touch her in just the right spot and turn her on first thing in the morning. She'd spring to life and begin seducing him with her "powers" before they were even out of Boardman. Soon, he was locked into every word she said, following her commands as if they were Bible passages. He needed her. She was there for him. He depended on her and she...

Well, one day she was wrong. Oh, yes. She was wrong. (Finally!) She took him 30 minutes out of his way. The first time he had made that trip, he had followed her word for word and did what she said. The second time, though, he had an idea to drop off the highway and take another road he had seen that ended in the same spot he had gone to before. Lo and behold, he landed 30 minutes sooner than she had predicted he would if he went the way she was leading him.

He couldn't wait to tell me. He called and I dutifully answered, his voice somewhere between despair and disbelief as he recounted how she had led him astray. On my end of the handset, all I could do was smile, as I had been hoping this day would come.

Ha! Had I finally won? Would he finally see me again for my ability to steer him in the right direction? Would this be the end of his fling with T2?

If only.

The next day, I placed a phone call to him and when he answered, I heard her voice. She was back. She was in the car with him and she was once again telling him the path his life should take. I was mortified. How could he when he knew she had led him so wrong?

I asked him about it, interrogating him on his need of her services. I was upset. I was jealous. I was devastated by his betrayal. I didn't know what to do.

But, like the smooth talker he is, he assured me she was only there to keep him focused (granted, he does like to drift when he's driving). He said her gentle reminders kept his mind on the road and he needed that to get to where he was going.

I decided to accept her in his life and I backed off, knowing I'd once again have my day.

I'm waiting. Patiently waiting. So far she's only popped in on our travels a few times since being down here and it's usually when I'm admittedly having troubles (headaches seem to be my kryptonite and they disable my internal navigational device.) But one of these days, one of these days - it's going to come to a showdown.

Tammie and Tammie 2 are going to go head-to-head in an all-out battle to win the love and respect of my husband and when we do...she's going down.

That's right, do you hear me, T2?!? You're going down...

And why is that? Because I'm not only calculating, but I'm...


RECALCULATING!

Like a Hand out the Window in the Wind

After Patrick put in his 7 hours researching jobs and sending out resumes yesterday, we decided to go on a drive to explore some more of the area. I suggested Cortez. It's a throwback to simpler times, a place that supposedly hadn't seen much progression in 140 years. I love that.

However, when we finally got there, we zoomed right through the town without so much as even stopping for the lights, as they were green all the way through. Without knowing it, we were suddenly over the water and onto Anna Maria Island. When the road ended at the gulf, we made a right and kept trucking.

With no maps to guide us, no previous visit to help us along, we just drove. Most of the roads on the island are 35 miles per hour, with some dropping to 25, so we had time to just glide along and look at our surroundings. It was a tropical paradise and time had seemed to stop there.

Unlike the northeastern seashore of the United States, most of the houses weren't new, but instead, oozed that traditional Florida Cracker charm; the roads were cramped and the soft edges gave way gently to sugary white sand. People were bicycling and lazily walking down the streets; a blue trolley was ahead of us, dinging it's way through the maze of roads with a load of people inside. It was like the past had come to life in front of us, the island's memory from a long ago time suddenly in motion for only us to see.

We followed the historic vehicle to the end of the island but turned right instead of left, as it had, and we found ourselves at the Anna Maria City Pier. Pulling over, we parked to the right of the structure for a moment on the soft crystals of sand and breathed in the salty, clammy air.

Patrick shot me a look and asked, "Quick, without thinking, what does the smell remind you of?"

Without hesitation, we replied in unison, "Cape Cod." It was a memory of our long-ago past, but one we had imprinted within us because of the time the three of us shared on that wonderful little island together.

The scent was that delicious rich smell of the oceans that only comes when there is low tide and remnants from the sea are left to bleach and decay on the shoreline, baking in the heat of the sunload. That deep ocean smell that you know Poseidon carries on him as he stands out above the seas and raises his trident over all the creatures he rules.

Without speaking, we just sat there and basked in the sun and the smell and the warm salt air, letting our senses mark this moment in our memory and our  minds. Then, Patrick put the car into gear and we were off again, driving deeper into the island to explore some more.

Before too long, we crossed back over to the mainland and headed back to 275. As we drove along the highway, windows open, late afternoon sun casting a gorgeous golden haze around us, I stuck my hand out the window like I used to do as a kid, and I played with the wind.

As we climbed the ascension on the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, where the wind became bolder but the view was ever-reaching, I realized how closely my journey through life resembled the resistance my hand met out the window.

I've always wanted to slow down time, but we barrel through life at an impressive speed. Just like us crossing that bridge at 70 miles per hour, life flies by us before we even realize it's gone.

I thought back to the weeks before the move when I would just sit with Jaryd in the family room, soaking up his presence and just being with him before he began his own journey. I tried, like I had done many times over the course of raising him, to slow down the clock, make it tick just a little bit slower so that I could put more hours in a day, more minutes into the moments we spent together. It never worked, but oh how I tried!

The memory hit me hard and I hid my hand-cum-airplane for a minute behind the mirror, watching as St. Petersburg approached in the forefront and Tampa grew bigger in the distance. I thought for a moment about how many other people had come here before us, refusing to let time pass them by any longer, striving for something better than what they had known in the past.

And I know all too well how people and lives are taken from us every day. My mother was gone in an instant 25-years-ago this week. One moment, her bright smiling face was gracing us with her jokes and laughter and the next, she was silenced forever.

I wondered for a moment if she'd be proud of what we had done, knowing she often talked about moving to Florida but had too much holding her back. I wonder if my grandparents, who have also both passed, were looking down at us and cheering us on. They, too, loved the warm weather and with my grandfather's sister just south in Englewood, came down to visit this area often.

Those were fond memories, driving with them across the state of Florida, exploring the white sands and blue waters, and then growing excited as we went inland to explore the parks and the thrills they offered.

But this trip for me is different. We're alone now. Auntie passed, it's gotta be at least 12 years ago now, and my cousin Dale has moved on with his life, going farther south into Fort Myers. So we explore the Tampa area alone, with only their eyes all looking down on us from above.

I raised my hand one more time in the wind, over the mirror, so the full-blast of air hit it as we charged forward towards our new home, and I spent one more second missing all the people who have meant so much to me but aren't sharing this adventure with us. Then, I pulled it back inside and looked straight ahead, ready to slow down the days and enjoy the ones I have left.

We never know when our time's going to be up so we have to take each minute as it comes. I've spent 38 years rushing towards the next "sweet" spot, whether it be a weekend event or just a day off from the daily grind. It's time now for me to live, to enjoy what God has provided and to have faith that I'm where I'm supposed to be when I'm supposed to be here. I don't know how long it will last, but I do know I'm not taking one more second for granted. I'm going to spend my remaining time on this earth living, because if there's anything that I do truly know, it's that days go by.



Days Go By lyrics
Songwriters: Powell, Richard Monty; Urban, Keith;

I'm changing lanes, I'm talking on the phone
I'm drivin' way to fast and the interstates jammed with
Gunners like me, afraid of coming in last
But somewhere in the race we run
We're coming undone

Days go by
I can feel 'em flying
Like a hand out the window in the wind, the cars go by
It's all we've been given
So you better start livin' right now
'Cause days go by

Out on the roof just the other night
I watched the world flash by
Headlights, taillights running through a river of neon signs
But somewhere in the rush I felt
We're losing ourselves

And days go by
I can feel 'em flying
Like a hand out the window in the wind, the cars go by
It's all we've been given
So you better start livin' right now
'Cause days go by
Yeah, these days go by

We think about tomorrow then it slips away
Oh, yes it does
We talk about forever but we've only got today

And the days go by
I can feel 'em flying
Like a hand out the window
When the cars go by

It's all we've been given
So you better start livin'
You better start livin'
Better start livin' right now

'Cause days go by
I can feel like 'em flying
Like a hand out the window in the wind the cars go by
It's all we've been given
So you better start livin' right now
'Cause days go by
Yeah, these days go by

So take 'em by the hand
They're yours and mine
Take 'em by the hand
And live your life
Take 'em by the hand
Don't let 'em all fly by

Come on, come on now
Don't you know the days go by?

I'm with Stupid

First and foremost, please let's get it straight that I'm not referring to Patrick.

No, I'm actually referring to the mutt that I have been assigned to walk every day.

We have two mutts right now but one of them has to be the most stubborn, hard-headed, focus-challenged dog I've ever owned.

For those of you who know my dogs, I'm talking about Toby Joe.

For those that don't, please know he is a sweetheart. Don't let me give you the wrong idea about the dog, but thank God he has that saving grace because otherwise he and I would be having much stronger issues.

I do want to set up this scenario properly. We have always had a fenced yard. From the moment we brought Toby home in October of 2008, he has only had to "go" on a leash for about the first 2 weeks when we still had the camper down the shore. Otherwise, we had merely to open the back door and let him outside into our fenced mountainside, where he seemed to know just what to do. Even our pet-sitter in Vernon was impressed how easily he learned from our older dogs to go outside, do his business and come right back in.

The Westview house had a nice flat, fenced backyard that the dogs loved and once again, in and out, no problems. Valley View was only a 30 by 6 foot fenced run, but he was quick and disciplined. Out and back in within 3 minutes.

So why would we think we'd have a problem with him when we had to put a leash on him? After all, we've had him for just shy of 3 years, and he has been very good about going about his business then coming right back in when we've let him out.

But I should have known there was going to be a problem when after riding 4 or 5 hours in the truck on the way down here, Patrick couldn't convince Toby to follow Diesel's lead and mark the trees when we stopped for a break. It took a good 12 to 13 hours before he'd relieve himself, usually where we had stopped to overnight.

The second clue I should have had was that he's part Beagle, which makes his first interest "prey". We couldn't have a bird, squirrel or rabbit in the yard without his shrieking yelp announcing the invasion from his view inside the house. It didn't matter the time of day or night, he'd let us know there was a "visitor" outside and made sure the rest of the neighborhood knew it, too.

So is it really any wonder I find myself so flabbergasted with getting this dog to focus on relieving himself as we walk through the resort?

To my husband's credit and at his insistence, we were taking them down to the dog park twice a day, where, after running 10 laps around the huge fenced in area, Toby would promptly do number one and number two on each visit. However, we moved across the resort from the dog area, to where the walk in the heat is too much for me with my asthma; and on top of it, they were having diarrhea while using it, which made me nervous about worms. So much did the worm issue bother me that I'd have both Patrick and I studying the poo very closely before picking it up. I still wonder how that looked to the folks who had sites around the dog park and were watching these two transplants squatting on the ground, staring at excrement in the 90 degree heat. Idiots with a poo fascination, I guess. (I still look, but we walk them where there aren't any sites now, so I feel a bit more casual about examining the poo for parasites.)

But at any rate, last week, when we moved over here, he didn't go for 24 hours at a time as he was strapped to a leash and unsure of how to act. Diesel didn't seem to have much issue at all, and once I started carrying treats with us to try to help with training, Diesel has since learned to pee on every tree he comes across, then he stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to reward his leg-lifting endeavors. Toby, on the other hand, who is usually my food-obsessed pooch, couldn't care less about the treats.

Instead, he's completely, wholeheartedly, decisively focused on every squirrel, duck and bird that happens to be in the field behind the pond. He chirps at the door in the morning and early evening, seeming to want to be let out to lighten his load; but instead, all he cares about are the animals around us. As he pulls me violently across the green grass to the treed area where we take them, you would think his urgency had to do with internal pressure. Instead, he gets to where we're going and then acts as any good hunting dog would. He stands there. Rock solid. Feet planted. Muscles taut. Eyes glued to each and every movement happening around us. And no amount of my pleading, encouragement or demanding can take his focus off the animals he is stalking.

I can't convince him with food. I can't bully him with commands. I can't even lure him with the smell of Diesel's markings. No. There is nothing that can interfere with his unwavering dedication to hunting the critters around us.

So today I started chiding him about his intelligence. Patrick even suggested I get a shirt that reads, "I'm with Stupid". And it was all fun and jokes until my husband then says, "Here, if I take him and he goes, will you pick it up?" Okay, uh, sure.

Patrick puffs out his chest, pulls back his shoulders, hands me the leash of the big dog and then grabs Toby's leash out of my hands. As I stand there with Diesel, I watch as my husband trugs along with the 35-lb Beagle dragging along behind him, like a stilted, cardboard cutout. Nothing he tried worked either. Then as if to solidify our incompetence as Beagle trainers, a squirrel ran up the tree in front of us and sat right over us on the towering branches, with Toby's eyes glued to it like his life depended on it.

As we stared up into the tree at the gray rodent that seemed to be mocking us and our difficult dog, we realized we needed a new strategy. Although he's extremely easy to train when it comes to tricks, he's absolutely horrible on the leash. His focus is completely off us, especially when we come across another animal, whether it be a woodland creature or another dog, and his screeching and screaming at their presence is hugely annoying, to say the least.

So the first thing we did when we arrived back at the RV was look up training collars. We're ratcheting up our efforts a bit and we're taking things to a new level. Somehow we need to break the bad habits and then, when he's ready to accept the positive rewards (treats), begin again with the leash training.

It worked with Spark. It worked with Jaz. It works every day with Diesel...with him, you just snap that collar on him and with a beep, he's a different dog. So how will Toby react?

I'm not sure any dog can beat Diesel's reaction the first time he was buzzed (if you've got some time, remind me to tell that story!) I still almost pee myself with laughter when I remember his first time and as much as I don't want to come off callous and mean, it's quite impressive how the training collars get their attention.

I just don't know what else to do with Toby and we're pretty much out of options. If he won't go, he can physically hurt himself and possibly need a vet visit. On top of that, I best not come back to the RV to find he's gone inside.

So until I can get him a collar and a remote, we're going to use Diesel's to begin to train him. We'll see how long it takes until we get his attention and his focus is back on the pack alphas and their commands again.

And I hope it works quickly...For Patrick's sake, I'd hate to have to order that t-shirt.

A Break in the Weather

My sister Kerrie texted me yesterday and asked how we were doing. The conversation was going along fine and I updated her of our site move, since the last time I had talked to her was the day after we arrived here 2 weeks ago.

It wasn't until I said that we had moved 50 feet from the pool before she stopped writing back.

I had told her before I didn't want to talk about the weather or about where we were, as I'd like to keep talking to her in the future. What I meant by that was, I don't want her to ask me about the weather or our activities and then get upset or jealous when I give her an answer.

Before moving down here, I watched some folks I know posting things on social media sites just to get a jab in at those in the colder weather. One of those cold weather people was me, and it drove me nuts. It didn't make me jealous, but it did give me the push I needed to make a drastic change in my life and go somewhere I considered to be paradise. So I was ok with it, working a grin-and-bear-it attitude through the cold, wet Ohio spring. Some folks weren't, though.

So I wasn't surprised when Kerrie stopped texting me. She is stuck in the humid mid-west, 90 minutes from Lake Erie and hours from the east coast shoreline; the closest thing she has to water to swim in is a teeny pool her friend owns over by Nana's old house. I knew this and I tried to answer her questions as ambiguously as possible so there weren't any hurt feelings, however, I'm not sure I succeeded.

There are somethings in life that I have done that people are in awe of. Not huge inspiring things, like winning the Nobel Peace prize or climbing Everest, but out-of-my-mind crazy things, like driving to Miami to go to school when I was 18, or leaving Ohio with a 2 year-old little boy and heading to New Jersey to make a new life for myself. Our recent move to Florida to live in an RV seems to be one of those things people keep gawking at me over, like the others in my past.

I've heard:

"Wow, I wish I could just up and leave everything to start someplace new! You are so brave!"

"You are doing something I always wished I had the guts to do!"

"You're living my dream. I just want to walk away from everything here (Ohio) and move to Florida with you."


I have looked them right back in the face and said, "You CAN do it! Just make the choice, stick to your decision and make it happen!"

Then their faces cloud over and a slew of excuses comes tumbling out.

"I can't. My mother is sick and someone needs to look after her."

"I wish I could, but I own a farm and I can't get rid of it in this market!"

"Oh, I'd never have the guts for that! It's better left for people like you!"

From owning businesses to kids still in school to spouses with jobs they just can't give up, all the excuses are there.

But we no longer had an excuse. My job is portable (thank you to my very understanding clients!!!) and Patrick's occupational skill set can take him just about anywhere there are people, so we didn't have any reason to stay.

Well, not in the "excuse" sense anyway.

Some people have asked me about missing my family. I lived 15 years in New Jersey and they only came to visit 2 or 3 times in that entire time span. Some never came to visit at all even though they were within an hour or two of us. And even when I moved back to Ohio, cousins I saw maybe once a year. My own sisters lived 1.75 miles from me and I saw them at my house about 2 or 3 times in the last 13 months. It was evident time and the lack of distance wasn't going to bring us closer together.


Others have asked me about again leaving friends from where I grew up. Same scenario. Until facebook came around, I didn't even have contact with most of them. Had to build me a whole new set a mere six hours away from where I was raised. Weirdly enough, to this day, it's the New Jersey set that I still usually talk to the most.

So yes, I will miss my family and the few friends we spent time with, but I couldn't let them become my "excuse" to not move on with my life. I love each and every one of them, but in all honesty, I love myself, too.

Most of the moves in my life have come down to the weather. I can't do gray. I can't do shades of gray. I can't do white, either (unless it's white sandy beaches against sparkling blue water!) When fall would come, a sadness would overtake me that destroyed my soul. I put up with it a good long while, but it finally became too painful to endure. I wasn't rebounding in spring and that worried me. When I wasn't finding any joy by summer, I knew I had to do something.

It wasn't until Patrick started to react the same way that I finally knew we could go, but together, we made the decision that we had to follow the sun, no matter whether it took us - south or southwest - we had to go where it was.

And now, when people ask me what the weather is like, I can't answer them. Come November and December, and further into winter, when someone wants to know if we're enjoying the warm weather, I can't say. And I won't. Because our move wasn't the right one for everyone. They might want it to be the right one, but the timing has to be right, as does the "weather" they are going through when they finally make the decision.

And so what's the weather like in Tampa today?

Well, as I type this, there is a steady rain tapping at the roof and the light coming in the windows is dim. Thunderstorms rolled across the peninsula today and we saw some awesome lightening bolts come down from the heavens right before the air and ground shook with maximum ferocity. It was a wonderfully rainy day, 20 degrees cooler than it has been, with bruised, rolling clouds dominating the skies. As we move from a steady tap to what is now monsooning swaths of water pouring down on us, we've taken to loving every minute of it.

I guess that's what happens when almost every waking day is 90 and sunny, with a slight salty ocean breeze coming in off the water...you can finally appreciate the gray skies.

Now who's watching the hurricane forecast again?