Cardio Drumming

Wednesday I tried something new. I saw information about a new craze called cardio drumming on our local news station a million months ago and since it tapped into drumming with exercise I was all like, whoa that is for me. But as most of my ideas and wants that was as far as it went. I discussed doing it but never got on the drumsticks until now. During a discussion of this craze, my "boss" at my volunteer job piped up that she knew someone who went to classes and that we should seriously go, and because she is more of a go-getter she signed us up and we went.

The class was held in what is apparently a nutrition shop that offers teas and shakes with protein supplements and who knows what else. The tables all had information, but I was there for the class so I didn't really focus on the pamphlets although I do know that weight loss is a huge part of it all. The cardio drumming class was held in the back of the shop in a warehouse room complete with a rolling garage door that opened into the back of the strip mall type building. There were several rows of buckets and balls and five to a row. I bet we had thirty people in the class that night, mostly women. I think I was probably the oldest. I know I was not the most coordinated. 

We got our drumsticks and found our "drums" and listened as the instructor told us we would drum through three songs, take a water break, and do another three songs. Then she hit play on her phone and music rang out through the speakers and BAM we were drumming. It was loud. Loud in nothing but people beating on exercise balls with a ferocity that amazed me. It was hard to hear the music over the beating, but I could follow the beat from everyone else's drumming. There were three instructors at the front of the room, and while I would have preferred them to count out loud, I just went with the flow and did the best I could to follow along. Apparently, I did it too well forgetting that I'm 53 with a herniated disc in my back. I jumped and pumped and drummed and bent and about four minutes in realized that I was 53 with a herniated disc in my back. I slowed down, and during the first break the instructor, perhaps looking at me, reminded us all that we were at different levels and different injuries and to go at our own level. Uh, yeah, maybe tell the newbies that in the beginning.

It was great. An hour went by quickly with the three songs and a water break routine over and over. I learned to not jump, but to come up on my tiptoes instead. I did bend though and beat the bucket several times and that is where I felt it at the end and the next few days, in my upper thighs. Made sitting down on the toilet a tad difficult. But my exercising previously gave me an advantage over my twenty-something-year-old "boss". Never mind that the woman just spit out a baby. I took that advantage. 

After the class, we came out to the shake bar to find large, and I mean LARGE, shakes waiting for us. It is included in the price of the class. Ours were strawberry-banana although peanut butter and cookies was the other choice.

Me: "So, what is in this thing? I mean, everyone just drinks this without knowing anything about it?"

Her: "You mean ala, Jim Jones?"

Me: "Exactly."

We sampled them, but it isn't quite like a big glass of water after a workout. Not sure what is up with the shake, but the class we signed up to do again. Because what's not to like about beating a ball with a stick in time to music?

Life Changes

Since we joined Amazon Prime Music I have been experimenting with music. Everything is at my fingertips. Hear a song during one of my television shows that speaks to me? I can SoundHound that baby and have it on my playlist in Amazon Music in a heartbeat. Then I play it on my Amazon Alexa and music is constantly playing in our house. I love it. I've added all sorts of genres to my repertoire and investigated all sorts of artists on Google.

Tom likes to listen to the music. I like to listen to the words. Someone took the time to express his feelings, and the writer in me gets that, so while the music might draw me in, the words hook me for sure. Lately, my newest obsession is Thomas Rhett. I heard his song Life Changes and his words had me delving further into his life, wanting to know more about him. I listened to more of his music and fell in love with his newest album of the same name. He is the songwriter for most of the songs, and now that I'm in the romance world, most of them speak to that creative side of me.

One of his songs, Sixteen, is about being fifteen and how he can't wait to be sixteen because life will be SO much better then. Of course, once he hits sixteen he can't wait to be eighteen and so on and so forth. Oh, how I remember doing the same! Irritated at my parents for something or another, stomping off to slam my bedroom door, and thinking how I couldn't wait to be whatever age because then I could do what I wanted and those two adults would have nothing to say. I wanted to be sixteen. I wanted to be eighteen. I wanted to be grown-up. I wanted to be on my own, living my life, catching my dreams. Then I wanted to be married with children, living my life, catching my dreams.

The song ends for him at twenty-five because Rhett is a youngster (and I'm older than his parents). In the song, he and his wife are laughing about how they once couldn't wait to be sixteen. Because life is great right now and my, oh my, how we all can't wait to be something that we aren't. Yep. Check. Did that too. What Rhett doesn't know because he hasn't experienced it just quite yet, is that in a few more years he will be reversing that. Amidst the dirty diapers, the traveling, and grown-up life he will be wishing he could backtrack to a different time. A time when he was wooing his now wife when they could come and go as they pleased without the worrying and responsibilities that come with parenting. Then several years down the road, he will be wanting to reverse to that time when his children were just that; to the days of diapering, drop-offs at school, and sporting events in the pouring down, chilly rain. One day he will be my age and then he will wish he was back drinking that wine at twenty-five and laughing about those days of wanting to move ahead, to grow up quickly.

If were a songwriter now, my song would be Twenty-six.

#Takedownthebuffalo

I started out this post with "My cousin," but is that the correct term for someone who marries your cousin? Is she instantly related to me via marriage? Is she my cousin? I researched it, which is how many of my entries never come to fruition because I'm too damn busy with the research angle and likely forget the original topic. Need proof of that? See the post below this one where I write about almost burning down my house.

"My cousin" is actually no relation despite marrying into the family because there is no blood relationship. I looked into that term since it sounded yucky and discovered blood relationship is a relationship with a common ancestor. So while my cousin's wife isn't related to me, her children are because we share a blood relationship. 

Thank you for making these kids so we could add them to our family tree, but sorry you aren't part of it. 

But then I found Familytree Expert, a website that stated, "Most people would refer to her as "my cousin's wife" or "my cousin." BAM! Validation from the Internet and the Familytree Expert.

So...

My cousin, who used to be my number one blog reader, got on her high horse and started her own blog. It's called A Simple Life and can be found here. I check in once a week because her life is hilarious, and she is a decent writer. 

Recently, she had an experience she blogged regarding her terrible customer service with Buffalo Wild Wings. Because I know awful customer service--hello Amy from Home Depot--I related. At the end of the post, my cousin added the hashtag #takedownthebuffalo, and had we died laughing.

But the article itself is not funny.

So, in helping her go viral, and because she does not have Twitter (My god, why do people not have Twitter?), I tweeted it out to my 92 millions of followers. 

I am a firm believer in using social media to voice pleasure and/or displeasure regarding companies. I mean, they make apps for this sort of thing and hire employees to monitor these sites, so absolutely, I'm going to do it despite my kids rolling their eyes. I looked for the @buffalowildwings, but there wasn't one that wasn't specific to a store, so I couldn't send it to the Twitter handle. It didn't matter. Buffalo Wild Wings (@BWWings) reached out to me, asking for more information. They sent a link to a form, and my cousin took the time to fill it out. She is on a mission to #takedownthebuffalo.

She put the link to her blog post on Facebook so that her 100,000 friends could read it and pass it on to their 100,000 friends. Within a few hours, she'd heard from quite a few people, including some with great information. She discovered the manager had recently asked for a transfer to another store, and so that store received a call. She heard from someone who had forwarded her post to her son, who oversees the district. He wasn't happy and plans action. On and on it went with people telling their own stories and passing information on--hello, the power of social media. 

Of course, it can also go against you, which is what my cousin was teaching her children from this whole experience. Watch yourself. Treat people as you want to be treated. Don't act in a way that will not look good on social media because this is the world we live in now. We're all just a misbehavior away from ending up as the lead story on Yahoo or YouTube. My cousin is very aware of her anger and her own response to the Buffalo Wild Wings manager, and she knows the people in the line behind her might've videotaped her behavior. 

Welcome to the other side of the coin.

It is now in the hands of Buffalo Wild Wings. How they chose to handle it will go a long way in whether we dine at that establishment. I've boycotted quite a few places due to things I've read and witnessed via social media. Let's see how the buffalo responds.

Yikes are we that old?

Currently:

Tom: "What was the quote again from that guy that emailed you? Do you remember?"
Me: "Are you kidding me? I about burned down our house this week. You can't expect me to remember that. You're going to have to keep a closer eye on me now."
Tom: "Yeah, well, I'm no better. I paid the wrong credit card bill."
Me: "Great! Who the hell is going to watch us both?"

Let me explain this - Rewind (Me):

I have been eating hard-boiled eggs for this diet I'm on and on Thursday I put six eggs in a pan of water and turned it on. Then I promptly went off to write and forgot all about them. Sometime later, and I have no idea how long, my smoke alarm in the kitchen sounded. It wasn't the normal house-on-fire-lone-shriek alarm but more battery-needs-changing short intermittent beeping so I kept on writing thinking I would get to it in a bit. The dog came out of the kitchen and stared at me. I told him I heard it and would get to it. He continued to stare at me until I looked up at which point he told me, "This needs attention NOW." So, I got up and went into the kitchen.

Which was full of smoke. My eyes immediately went to the stove. Who the hell turned that on, was my first thought when I saw the red lights, followed by, Oh, shit, the eggs!  The water was completely gone and the eggs, now hardboiled, were black. I pitched them, opened windows, flipped on the ceiling fan, and removed the battery from the smoke alarm because it wouldn't stop its incessant beeping. Then, instead of imagining all of the worst case scenarios regarding my stupidity as I'm known to do, I returned to my writing. Because damn it, I was on a roll. But I did alert the husband to the fact that his wife might be needing some extra attention.

Rewind (Him):

Discover has a great credit program for college kids and so my youngest signed up. My husband went over ownership of a credit card and then showed her online, with his account, how to pay her bill. She set it up on her phone and was good to go. A month or so later she wanted to know why she had a $2,000 credit on her card. Apparently, when paying our Discover card bill the husband had accidentally paid Darcy's. He did the same thing again this month.

Currently:
Darcy: "Jeez, mom tries to burn down the house and dad can't remember his Discover card number."
Me: "That means you're going to have to keep one eye on me and one on your father."
Darcy: "I might keep both eyes on you and then reap the rewards of Dad's forgetfulness. I could use a $2,000 credit."

Valentines Day over 50

The Winter Olympics 2018 is kicking my butt, not to mention my routine. Due to time differences, some of our primetime coverage is actually live and it runs over, and while NBC tries hard to show us that coverage, they have to break eventually for local news and so I have to wait until 12:30 to finish whatever event I was watching. I haven't gotten to bed before 1:30 a.m. the last two nights. Yes, yes, I'm recording all of it, but dammit, this is the Olympics! Plus, I'm not on any time schedule other than my own most of the days so I tell myself this is okay.

This morning I turned off my alarm and fell back to sleep. I awoke at 9:18 a.m. and then lay in bed reading awhile. A little before 10 my SIL tried to Facetime and I declined it, texted her I would need a few minutes, and rolled out of bed to ready for the day. At 10:00 while I was in the bathroom someone rang my doorbell. The dog went nuts. Peeking out through my window, I saw it was an air conditioning man. I checked my phone. I did not have an appointment scheduled with an air conditioning man. I wasn't dressed so I scurried around throwing on clothes, and when the dog came into the room and stared at me, I peeked again out the window. The guy was gone. Hmmmm...

I slowed down and went through the motions I would normally do in the morning like brushing my teeth, washing my face, and making my bed. The entire time I did I began thinking through things. We had been collecting several estimates from air conditioning companies for Mitsubishi mini-split air conditioners. I had only personally scheduled two companies. So obviously, Tom had scheduled another one even though he had no interest in purchasing a unit. Hmmmm... Then it hit me. OMG! My husband had sent this man here to put in the unit as a surprise for me for Valentine's Day. 

But instead of rejoicing that my husband was back to being that caring guy who thought up great surprises like that before the kids arrived, I got annoyed. Because why wouldn't he let me know that since I had to obviously be here for that? Normally I was at the gym at this time. Then I thought, holy hell, my husband knows this and is coming to let the guy in and I just got out of bed. So then I really got frantic and swirled through my daily routine like the Tasmanian Devil because SAHM's, which technically I'm not anymore, never want the husband to catch them in bed in the late morning. Before I left the room, I raised the shades on our windows and low and behold, the air conditioning truck was now parked outside in front of my house instead of in the driveway as he had been earlier. I was caught.

He must have seen some movement because he came back to the door. To inform me that my husband had made an appointment to service our large air conditioner on the outside of the house. Pfft. So much for romance. I let the guy in, made up some lies about being out back and the doorbell not working there, and also told him I was confused and thought he might be there for an estimate on the mini-split unit. He assured me that his company did sell those, he checked the room where I wanted it, and he gave me the number to call and set up an appointment. Then he asked me questions I could not answer regarding service contracts and so I called the husband who then asked questions regarding the warranty and so I handed the phone over to the air conditioner guy. The two males chatted a bit and then the phone was passed back to me.

Me: "Yes?"

Him: "Write him a check for another service plan for this year, would you?"

Me: "Yes, I can do that. Are there any more appointments you've scheduled today that you neglected to tell me about?"

Him: "I didn't even remember this one."

Me: "I figured that. I thought he was maybe someone from the Home Show."

Him: "There to put in a mini-split for Valentines' Day."

Me: "Believe it or not, but I actually thought that might be the case."

Him: "It wasn't."

Me: "No kidding."

Later that day while at the grocery, and because of the previous conversation, I picked up a box of chocolates with a picture of two puppies on it. We used to do up Valentine's Day the romantic way before kids, but now? It's another day. I had already purchased a Valentine card several weeks ago trying to get a jump on things, but I added the chocolates more as a panic situation due to that morning's shenanigans.

Grocer: "This is cute. For your kid, huh?"
Me: "Listen, buddy, it's for my husband."
Grocer: "Oh."
Me: "The man gets love every day. I mean, he has me in his life every day. What more could he want?"
Grocer: "I think my response is a box of chocolates?"

The next day before he left for work, as he does every morning, he wakes me with a good-bye kiss. He thanked me for the chocolates and told me he loved the card. Then off to work he went. When I was dressed, I entered the kitchen to find a big red bag and balloon at my breakfast spot on the table. Inside was a new Ipad Pro and a case. Seriously? I had mentioned I should get one of those on Saturday because carrying my laptop to my writer's group was heavy and awkward. I texted him:

Me: "Holy, way to make me feel bad about giving you puppy chocolates."
Him: "Enjoy. Love you."
Me: "Awww...you are sweet. Love you too It's almost as good as a mini-split air conditioner. ."

What? He loves me for my sarcasm and humor.

She didn't come with the Ipad, but look how bright and cheerful she is on Facetime with that thing!

Jaimee and Cara

My cousin Jaimee has a blog. I really should add it to my list of daily blog reading, which isn't really true anymore because I'm writing a book and don't read blogs daily like I used to do, but whatever. Today, while I was procrastinating taking a break from writing said book, I realized it had been a week since I had checked into Jaimee's blog. She had called me the night before but we hadn't gotten very far into the conversation before her littlest interrupted her and so she told me she would return the call another night. Wanting to be up on her life, I typed in her name in my URL. Normally, her blog pops up immediately when I type in "Jai", but since my husband recently put on a new cypersecurity and antivirus protector on my computer nothing pops up automatically anymore. So I typed in "Jaimee", thinking that would alert the Russians who now own my computer and everything on it (this is another blog entry for sure) as it is their company protecting me, but instead, this came up:

According to Urban Dictionary, Jaimee is a term. Who knew? Certainly not my children who I rely on to keep me updated as to all lingo in today's world. Just for grins, and because I still have that teenage mentality (I mean, I am a romance writer), I then asked Urban Dictionary if Cara was a term.

I'm sorry I did. The first response via Goodle said, "An ugly junk with no heart or sole. The lowest possible human form there is before death or rehab. Incapable of telling the truth or even knowing what the truth is. Everything it touches turns to shit. Very ugly, self-absorbed, selfish, evil and basically on par with the thieving Junkie Devil."

That was the first thing that came up in the search engine for "Cara Urban Dictionary" but the second one came up as this:

So I texted Jaimee's definition to her. She responded with "Google knows me so well" and so I texted this second one of Cara to her and said, "Google knows me well too. Thank god the air conditioning guy didn't know my name when he showed up this morning." We snickered with emojis.

Then I noticed that Jaimee had Top Definition above her name and my two versions did not. So I typed in Cara in Urban Dictionary and that Top Definition was obviously the right one.

Definitely, stick with the Top Definition if you ever check your name out in Urban Dictionary. Because the site can be used by anyone who wants to post a word and a definition and as you go further along on the page there is usually someone who obviously dislikes someone with that name. Jaimee further down the page was a ruthless, nocturnal witch, a narcissistic ratchet witch who thinks only of herself (the name "mee" is emphasized which I did think was clever), and a crazy-ass Irish motherfucking leprechaun.

My personal favorite of Cara was this one: A sweet, shy, book nerd with writing skills that you wouldn't believe and a social phobia that keeps her in the background.

I took that one as a sign to stop what I was doing and I got back to writing the novel. Always stop while you are ahead.

My kid is a certified lifeguard

A week ago I wrote about my daughter's enrollment in a lifeguarding class. If you didn't read it, you can here. This past weekend she took the two-day class. (Two days to train "kids" to save lives. Please know that I am rolling my eyes and clutching my chest at that nonsense.) Prior to the class, she received the books and the online videos and she spent Friday getting a jump on the subject. Saturday she started at 7:00 in the morning. There were six "kids" in the class, two of whom already had been hired for jobs despite not having the certification. (Insert my screaming at a high volume) Six students and two instructors. The class went until 7:00 that evening. Sunday they started at 8:00 and didn't finish until 10:30 at night. Nothing like cramming it in.

Darcy periodically sent SnapChats updating me. When she got out of the class, she called me on her way home. She was exhausted, but as she talked my heart lifted. I had been concerned. Lifeguarding was my profession back when it wasn't deemed a "profession" and people were shocked that our staff was all college graduates with BA and BS degrees. Because that was the stigma in those days. Now, aquatics and lifeguarding are majors and minors in college. I was ahead of my time. Sigh. But as my daughter talked about her day I heard the confidence. She discussed her irritation regarding the summer camp pool and all that they DID NOT have in equipment that she had now learned was needed for safety purposes. She was concerned about some of the students in her class. She even voiced an objection to learning everything in two days. Because she was a strong swimmer, had studied prior to the class, and had a grasp on what she was learning she wasn't given as much practice in areas as the others. The instructors knew she could do it and so they had her play the victim. Over and over again while the other students worked to perfect what my kid had soaked up and could handle.

I was proud. I was also disappointed in myself. Here I had been worried, as I always am when it comes to my kids. When will I learn that they are capable? When will I realize that they are more than able to stand on their own two feet and handle life? Is that a parent thing? That thought that they are young and still need us to pave the way? Hell, they are smarter and more capable of things then I am. A fact I am well aware of, yet here I am still second-guessing them. My kids know they are competent and darn it, I have got to believe in them as they believe in themselves.

Darcy is now considering taking Water Safety Instruction in April. She said she might look into the class on becoming a head lifeguard. She enjoyed the class. She was the only one to pass the written test. She did well in the rescue portion. After the class ended, one of the instructors took her aside and offered her a job at the campus pool.

Oh my!

I'm working on pushing aside any worry regarding that thought. She can do it. She can do it. And darn it, I know she can. I do believe that. My kid is a certified lifeguard, you all.

I don't have horns

My brother likes to refer to me often as "Little Connie" and I give it back to him as he portrays both my parents in so many ways. Aren't we all, in some way, a replica of our parents? While with my SIL and her sister in Sanibel, Susan kept referring to her sister as "Little Geneva" as in their mother. Gina does have many of the same traits as their mother such as height, facial features, and the same gait. Susan, however, saw more. She thought Gina used the same mannerisms, ordered food like her mother, and asked the same sort of questions of people. I agreed that some of the things Gina did reminded me of their mother, but then I overheard Susan say something to her sister that reminded me of their father. I took to calling Susan "Little Mike".

Susan: "Okay, little Geneva."

Gina: "I can't help it."

Me: "You're Little Geneva and Susan is Little Mike. It's just the way things go. That's your new nicknames. You have become your parents."

Gina: "What name are we giving Cara?"

Susan: "One that fits. Little Devil."

My first Home Show

My husband took me to my first Home Show at Tropicana Field a couple of weeks ago. He has been to them before (remember the resurfacing of our deck?), but I hadn't had the pleasure. We have a list of repairs that include the kitchen and our bath and he figured taking me to this event would get me motivated to get moving forward on these projects.

Our master shower has been the bane of our house and one of the few things we have ignored since buying the house. Once we had a company come in to put one of those enclosures on top of our existing shower, but the guy who arrived sort of freaked out and gave me a million excuses as to why it wouldn't work. I sent him away much to my husband's dismay and we continued on with the original shower.

The house was built in the 1960's with metal plumbing and tile for the walls of the bathroom, and our shower never looks clean no matter how much cleaner we pour on it. Our drain is twice the size of a normal drain and the pipes back up often, more when I use bleach which most plumbers roll their eyes at me when I come up with this diagnosis. But recently during a snaking of our pipes at Christmas time amongst the houseful of young adults and family, the plumber put a camera down the pipes and discovered that the rust from the metal pipes was sluffing off and causing the build-up. The cause? Most likely bleach. Score one for the lady of the house.

Our kitchen was remodeled the kitchen when we first got married. That was 24 years ago and the Formica, mauve in color I might add, has slowly started coming apart from the wall behind our sink. I'm over the color and the water seeping behind it. It has to be replaced. The cabinets, custom built by a co-worker's spouse, show wear and tear and the handles are just grossly sticky and dirty no matter how much I clean them. If we are going to get new countertops we most likely need to replace the cabinets. Of course. Simple things always lead to greater things.

We arrived at the home of the Tampa Bay Rays and made our way to the field where the booths were set up. It took up over half the field, and while I worried about damage despite my vast knowledge of resurfacing sports arenas, my husband led me into the first booth which happened to be a kitchen company. We talked to the guy, picked up some brochures, and moved on. The next booth was a guy named Leo demonstrating ceramic frying pans. He wanted to know if I wanted the demo. I told him I did. My pots and pans are terrible. My mother purchased a set for me, my SIL, and herself years ago. I'm on her set now and they desperately need to go.

Leo began with the spiel that included information on ceramic, how there was no need for oil or butter, and he dropped in a handful of grated cheese to cook while he talked. When the cheese was finished it slid right out the pan. Slid. Right out of the pan. No sticking. No mess. Leo used a paper towel to wipe the pan and then he was whisking eggs and pouring them into the pan without any oil or butter. He swirled the eggs around the pan making an omelette. He told us we could add our ingrediants and then fold it over and viola! An omelette. But then just to show off, he lifted the pan to his lips and blew the omelette right out of the pan. Poof. The egg slid right out without any muss or fuss. I made a remark regarding germs, but then I pulled out my credit card and purchased three pans in different sizes, color black.

We continued walking while Leo held our purchase for us. A few booths down I saw a company that sold the new Mitsubishi one room air conditioners which my friend SueG had told me I needed. The master bedroom is the farthest room from our AC and with my newly acquired hot flashes, well, this is certainly an item I need. I made an appointment for them to come to my house for an estimate.

Me: "You're going to probably be sorry you brought me here, aren't you?"
Tom: "I'm already regretting it. Stay focused on why we came."

I did. I watched a steam mop demonstration while he was chatting with a financial broker, but I kept my credit card in my wallet although I could use a great steam mop. I finally pulled him away from the broker and we made numerous contacts and appointments with kitchen and bath people. It was a tad overwhelming looking at the numerous choices in countertops and listening to all of the sales pitches, but it is a starting point.

We ended the day by sampling cupcakes from a company in Tampa and we purchased two for our dessert that evening. Then we sampled different types of dips that this lady made from scratch. She had this great set up with tubs of her dips inserted into wooden holes that were drilled into a bar. The lids were over the dips and a hole was cut out big enough to dip a pretzel stick into. Everyone received a Dixie cup of these sticks so that we could sample them all. We left her booth with $20 worth of dips and a Bloody Mary mixture for Tom. We picked up our pans from Leo (so far so good on the pans at home, but I've read terrible reviews about them) and made our way back to our car where we found a parking ticket as we had passed the two hour limit.

Me: "I suppose that was my last Home Show, huh?"
Tom: "For at least another twenty years."

Out of the mouths of someone else

Recently while SnapChatting with my SIL Susan (ok, it is almost a daily occurrance because whoa! a lot happens each day in our life) she had to plug in her phone so she wouldn't lose me. She plugged it in, sat at her desk and we chatted. She had just finished making and eating breakfast when she pulled out a bag of Doritos.

Gabby: "Mom! It's not even 11:00 a.m. and you're eating chips?"
Susan: "Yes, I am. Cara, have you seen these? Doritos Blaze. Gabby says they are great."
Me: "Ugh. Yeah, that's giving me reflux just thinking about eating them."
Susan: "I'm going to try them."

Susan: "Wow, look at this chip. It even smells hot just holding it in my hand."
Me: "Yep, not even tempted to want to try those. You're 50 now. You have to start watching what you eat."

She popped the chip into her mouth and no sooner did she swallow and she was reaching for a glass of water and fanning her mouth.

Gabby: "Is it hot?"
Susan: "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh. That's hot."
Me: "Yuck. Drink some milk."
Susan: "Oh, my gosh, that was hot. How did you eat half this bag already, Gabby?"
Gabby: "I liked them. I like spicy stuff."
Susan: "That's just crazy. There is no way. That was all I'm eating. Hand me my bag of Funyans."

Sanibel 2018 - Day 3

I slept in on Day 3. My alarm only goes off on the weekdays and I forgot this was a weekend. Oops. The other two walked the beach and had their coffee by the time I got up. They waited for me to have a cup and get dressed and we hiked the beach to the breakfast buffet.

The day started out cloudy, but the sun peeked out intermittently and so we went back to our spot on the beach. I was reading a great book and so I had my nose in it most of the day. The other two sunbathed and then Susan decided to play in the sand. Eventually, her sister joined her to help and a photography session ensued.

Susan went off for a walk and a couple strolled by to read the message. It was hard to read with one's eyes, but easy to read through the camera lens so people would stop and mumble a lot. It was entertaining.

Him: "Which one of you is Susan? It is Susan, right?"
Gina: "It is. She isn't here."
Me: "She is walking the beach."
Her: "Tell her Happy Birthday."
Him: "Yes, tell her Happy Birthday from us and tell her to order anything she wants at the bar and charge it us."

We laughed and they continued down the beach. Later, after lunch and more sunning, we gathered our stuff and went to the pool. The same couple strolled by and I pointed out Susan to them. The man made his offer of drinks again and so Susan ordered a Bloody Mary. He offered to buy all of us drinks, but Gina and I thought his wife seemed to be a tad miffed so we declined. When they brought the Bloody Mary back we chatted them up as we are so good at (having been around Russ and Rusty all these years) and discovered they were from Harrisburg, PA.

Me: "I lived in Harrisburg!"
Susan: "That's where my husband was born!"
Me: "Well, her husband is my brother so we both lived there. CampHill actually."
Them: "That's where we live."

Small world. Turns out they had gone to a Notre Dame football game in South Bend and so the wife finally relaxed a tad before they wished us all well and moved on. Susan said it was the best Bloody Mary she had ever had. She made me SnapChat a photo to my brother.

Gina and I got our own beverages and we sat outside chatting with people poolside before we called it a day and headed back to the room to get ready for dinner. We ate dinner at the other restaurant connected with the resort, ordering stuff to share. We sat overlooking the pool and agreed that Susan's niece had planned a terrific 50th vacation. We drank to her again.

I changed the card game that night and won. We packed up our stuff with the two of them having to practically sit on their suitcases to get them closed. Another early flight would have us up and at 'em the next morning at 4:30 a.m. but we stayed up past midnight anyhow. Why not? These two were going back to snow and cold weather so we kept the door open by the balcony and decided maybe we should come back next year for Susan's 51st.

Sanibel 2018 - Day 2

Susan was up early. The woman doesn't sleep much after beating cancer, so once I joined her for coffee on the balcony, she woke up her sister--no sleeping in on this vacation. We did the breakfast buffet, sitting outside overlooking the pool, and then I insisted we bike ride so that I could get in my exercise. They agreed, and the nice girls running the equipment shack gave us a map to the lighthouse, a 3.6-mile bike ride. That almost put off Susan because that would be a round trip of seven miles, but I convinced her we wouldn't have to go the whole way if we thought it too much.

The weather was beautiful. It was only about 71 degrees, and we had a nice breeze and the sun the entire trip. I went first because my legs were the longest, and after a shaky start, I got into a nice rhythm. I've ridden enough with my biker husband, and so as I passed other bikers and walkers, I said, "Bike left" as I rode around them. I also used a lot of energy, saying good morning to everyone coming toward me from the opposite direction. Everyone was out either biking or hiking, so I bet I said that over a hundred times. It got exhausting. At one point, I wondered aloud if it were still morning and a walker assured me it was.

Her: "It's 10:45 a.m. You're still good."

I probably had gone a mile before I realized I had left the other two far behind. I had to pull over and wait for Susan and Gina to catch up and ask for directions, but Susan had left the map behind, so we decided to just wing it. I set off again and periodically pulled over to wait for them. We made it to the lighthouse, which turned out to be one of the top ten destinations on Sanibel. We parked the bikes and hiked around the lighthouse and the beach, chatting with people we met.

Sanibel is known for its shells. They are everywhere on the beach, but I kept making them put them back as they picked them up. I still have two containers of my mom's shells sitting on my front porch, and that's after we got rid of the other boxes she owned. I know they snuck some in their luggage, but I may or may not have tossed some back. 

We were wearing our matching shirts that said we were part of Susan's 50th crew, so we met many people who wanted to read our shirts. Gina and I always pointed to Susan as the oldest. She always let them know she wasn't 50 yet. People were so nice, wishing her a happy birthday and chatting with us. It was a great bike trip. It was so great I'm looking to move to Sanibel because I would be skinny if I lived here and biked everywhere.

I made it back to the resort before the others, so I circled the parking lot a couple of times. There was a gentleman worried about his convertible. He kept walking back to it as if someone was going to steal it. I passed him twice and then again as he finally decided to leave the car and walked two rows over toward the resort. He stopped abruptly.

Me: "Don't worry, I won't run you over. I've got the hang of it now. I just biked 7 miles."

He laughed and moved on. I circled the lot again until the girls arrived. 

We rode back to the return area, and as I came around the corner to the shack, the same man was standing there.

Him: "This woman tried to hit me in the parking lot!"

Me: "Please. I let you get away, but I think I may have dinged your car."

He stared at me and then threw back his head and laughed and laughed. People were so friendly on this island, I tell ya. I loved biking. I could have biked to the other end of the island, but my back was aching from sitting up straight for so long, so I didn't chance it. We changed into our suits and hiked to the beach, where our island boy, Omario, got us chairs and umbrellas. We also got a beverage from the tiki bar. It was 5 o'clock somewhere.

The weather was perfect. We had lunch, we sunbathed., and then we walked the beach. I got into the water. 

Later that evening, we drove to Captiva Island thirty minutes away, to take a sunset cruise. It was chilly, but we were prepared for that, and the crew had blankets aboard. The cruise was about an hour and a half. It wasn't anything great. We only saw one dolphin, and some man kept getting in our way during the setting of the sun, but it was fun nonetheless. We learned a little history of the islands and met a bunch of nice people.

We ate at a restaurant in Captiva with a waiter that apparently had a bug up his ass. We tried our best to woo him over to the good side, but either we had lost our charm, or he was just too far gone, or we pissed him off regarding something.

Me: "I'll have a Captain Morgan and a coke."

Kyle: "Beer or wine."

**

Me: "What do you recommend for dinner?"

Kyle: "Seafood or no seafood."

**

Me: "Which dessert do you recommend? Never mind, I know. Dessert or no dessert."

We gave him his 20 percent, but I think I'm going to need to mention his behavior on my Yelp review. Jeez, buddy. He was the only unfriendly person we encountered the entire trip, and that includes the guy we were sure was stalking us. Of course, stalkers are always friendly because, well, they are trying to get into your good graces. I learned that in the FBI. FYI.

We ended the night the same way we had the previous night--we played cards. Gina won this night. We contemplated rearranging the furniture as the maid had put back a chair and an ottoman we had moved. We thought it might be funny to set up a camera to see her reaction the next day if we put our mattresses on the dining room floor and the dining table in the living room. But it was too much work, and we hadn't had enough to drink. 50 years and over, you know.

Day 2 in the bag!

Sanibel 2018 - Day 1

Last fall, my SIL Susan's niece, Leeandra, began planning a 50th birthday celebration for her aunt. First, she thought about a cruise and contacted me to include me in their family. While I was touched, I declined due to financial reasons, but when it was changed to a trip to Florida, well, that was easier as I'm already in Florida. Her niece planned the whole trip, including matching shirts, and we kept it a surprise until the reveal. Susan was very shocked.

Being the person in charge came with some drama (unintentional on her part) and, in the end, some trauma. Her mother went into the hospital two days before the trip, and because she is an only child, Leeandra had to forgo the trip to take care of her mother. Ugh, I know that feeling. But the trip was paid for, and heavy hearts Susan, her sister Gina, and I went on without her. We did include her every day as we enjoyed the trip she had planned. We toasted her, we thanked her, we wore our shirts, and we kept in touch. It was a nice thing to have done for her aunt, and I was thrilled that she included me as part of it.

Sanibel Island 2018 began for Susan and her sister on Wednesday in a hotel in Indianapolis. Their plane left the next morning at 5:20 a.m. I left my house at 7:00 a.m. for the two and a half-hour drive to pick them up at the Ft. Myers airport. The weather held, they made their connecting flight and arrived on time. I came a few minutes later, and we met up to begin the fun.

We ate breakfast and shopped for supplies in Ft. Myers and then headed across the bridge to the island, about a forty-minute drive. Because it was a Thursday, traffic wasn't bad, but I would hate to be arriving on a Friday, and I would hate to be a local during a hurricane.

I'd been to Sanibel before with my mother and her friend when I first moved here. It wasn't anything like I remembered. Sanibel is true to old Florida with no big businesses and minimal high rises. If you want gas or a grocery, you have mom and pop shops or go over the bridge. Bike and walking paths run along the road and have the right of way, and everyone is very pleasant. I could see myself living there.

Our resort was a beautiful place directly on the beach that had once been a condominium division. It went through a bankruptcy, and the resort came in and helped pick up the pieces. We had a two-bedroom condo package, and everything came with it, including chairs, umbrellas, bikes, kayaks, paddleboards, etc. We had wristbands and agreed we would try everything. Our room wasn't ready, so we got chairs and an umbrella and sat on the beach in our clothes and had cocktails from the tiki bar.

Our room was large and spacious. Susan and her sister took the master room because it overlooked the beach, and I got a room and bathroom to myself across the way. We had two living rooms, a kitchen, and a beautiful balcony that overlooked our pool and the beach. We took a lot of pictures from this balcony where we enjoyed our coffee every morning.

Our package included a $70 credit to the resort's Japanese restaurant, and we agreed we would go there that night. The room had four tables that allowed seating for eight. We went early and were joined by a couple from Canada. We chatted with them and the wait staff and had the room to ourselves for the first hour.

I'm not a fan of this type of place because I swear I got sick at our local Japanese restaurant, which has since closed. But this place was small and clean. Susan had lobster and scallops. Gina had chicken. I had chicken and shrimp. The lobster was from Maine and had arrived the day before, and the shrimp was from Louisiana and HUGE. It was the freshest shrimp I have ever put into my mouth, and I live in Florida. It still tasted of the ocean, I swear. The meal was delicious, and afterward, they brought Susan a piece of chocolate cake, and we all sang Happy Birthday to her. The triple chocolate cake was SO GOOD. 

We were stuffed after the meal, and so we walked around the resort. We discovered that breakfast was a buffet in the morning, starting at 6:00 a.m. We all agreed we would not be there at that time. Who goes on vacation and gets up before six to eat? Crazy people, that's who.

Me: "And old people."

Susan: "Well, I am turning, 50."

Me: "We aren't eating at 6:00 a.m. Forget it. We aren't crazy old people just yet."

The pool closed at dusk, but we did get to play some corn hole. I won. I'm letting everyone know that because, according to everyone that knows me, winning is important to me. I believe it is when competing because, uh, why wouldn't it be, but I don't get depressed if I don't win. Hmmm...well, maybe in certain games. 

We ended the night by shopping in the little store at the resort with a few tourist things. Susan bought a coffee cup with palm trees. I left the store without my phone, and so we visited the store twice that night. We also outwitted a guy we were sure was following us. I used my FBI training to make him think we lived in a different resort. 

Despite having been up most of the twenty-four hours, we stayed up late playing cards, laughing, and talking. We only had three days, so we were determined to make the most of every little second. We headed off to bed with plans to be up early to grasp Day 2, and all it would have to offer.