Follow me

Hunter came in by train from Chicago on Wednesday night. Late. To make things easier we decided to drop off a car for him at the train station. On our way out of the house Dan said “follow me.”

I followed him down our street and through the parkway to 76^th.  When he got to Wisconsin Avenue he turned left and I followed him into downtown. He parked his car and jumped in mine.

On the way home he asked me why didn’t I want to take the freeway? I don’t typically take the freeway in town, so I was heading up St. Paul. Why was this a problem?

Dan said no, why didn’t I want to take the freeway on the way to the station, it’s faster?

What? I was following you on the way there.

You turned on your directional at Wisconsin Avenue. 

I did?

Yeah, so I figured I better just turn left.

But I was following you and you could have gone to the freeway.

Well, I figured you didn’t want to take the freeway for some reason.

Hmmm.

I took Hunter back to the train station this morning. Halfway there I realized I was on the freeway.

So now this is stuck in my head. Who is following who?

Music that resonates:

R.E.M. -- Stand

Plate Tectonics

With Thanksgiving just around the corner I dove into the china cabinet to set the table for twelve.  As I started to pull out my wedding china (because Thanksgiving CAN NOT be served on paper plates) I became aware of the various plate options that I had.  Turns out I own 249 plates, not counting miscellaneous paper plates, and those currently in the dishwasher.

249 plates!

:Dan steps in: China cabinetSSSS. four, (not the singular Paula implies above) not counting what’s elsewhere in the house. After 32 years, we can address the madness of the plates. It has been nuts—we have plates that have never seen food—never seen a party—never seen the dark wonder of the Dish Washer. But they hang from walls, fill cabinets and when a plate is needed “NO! YOU CAN’T USE THAT PLATE!” 

A weapon not used is not a weapon at all.

I still flinch remembering the “Enchilada Episode.” We had enchiladas on a Friday night and there were two left-over. The one and only time Paula ever had a rummage sale was the following Saturday morning. This was many years ago, and as I recall the story I realize that Paula was high on something, for she decided to SELL SOME PLATES. That’s right, actually get rid of the plates THAT WE USED EVERY SINGLE DAY. I awoke, excited as a five-year-old knowing there were two left-over enchiladas for breakfast. But where could they be? Paula had washed them down the garbage disposal to sell the plate for a quarter. No, I am not bitter. I have, over the years, learned to bury the pain. But I digress…

I will downsize the motor vehicles. The convertible, DeLorean*, motorcycle and Toaster are going. A 66% reduction. I need to ditch one of the two party refrigerators (the 1954 Graf’s is going, the 1932 GE stays.) But now it’s a matter of what to do with all of the plates, “Oh Ashley!”, and I’ll turn this back over to Paula. I have to (believe it or don’t) empty the dish washer.

*It’s a long story.:

Ahem. 

The wedding china, all gifts, service for 16 and lots of extras. Blue depression glass bubble plates were found in my grandmother’s china cabinet after she died, my mom-in-law rounded out the set for me. Green and pink depression glass, not sure where I got those. Halloween plates, too cute to pass up. Large serving plates from a variety of sources.  Decorative plates of many patterns were all gifts. And the Gone With the Wind collection, frankly (my dear), I love them all. They are not microwaveable, a concept lost on Dan. I LOVE Gone With the Wind, the book, the movie and the plates.  The plates are … a passion that my mom-in-law indulged. 

Clearly, I need to come to grips with all of the plates…and make Dan two enchiladas…

Separation anxiety

Life is full of difficult choices and uncomfortable situations. When you make a personal decision to change your trajectory, other people are going to be affected. The stone in the pond metaphor becomes more and more relevant. A stone is dropped and the ripples of water begin to radiate. Sometimes the smallest of stones create an unexpected wave that just knocks me off balance.

Last week Dan dropped a stone. It was a mutual decision, but I let him drop it. This time it was a money stone, our annual allocation to the church. We’ve been members of the same church for years. We attended every Sunday. Our boys were confirmed into membership. We became more and more active, ultimately becoming church elders (first Dan, then me) chairing a committee. Members of that committee included a bunch of grumpy old men. What I learned from that experience as an elder was that bullies come in all ages and they certainly bullied me.

So we stopped attending regularly, then pretty much dropped it, but our giving continued because I always expected to go back. This year the pledge card arrived and we made the decision to redirect some of the money to the United Way and use the balance towards our relocation goal. For me, this meant I would not be going back, except for the occasional special event.

In theory this should not be too difficult, we had not been to a service for a long time. Dan sent the pledge card back with a note regarding our decision. Then we had dinner with good friends Jim and Sarah. Friends we’ve shared many a meal with, friends we’ve taken to the cottage, friends we’ve vacationed with, “default friends”. Jim delicately brought up a note he had received this week, from us, stating our decision to stop giving to the church.  He got this because he’s not just a friend, he’s also our minister.

There it was, in front of us and it needed to be discussed. We were stepping away from the church, but not from Jim and Sarah. Their friendship is cherished but the ripples from the stone in the pond had reached them, touched them, affected them. I felt the water slosh back and wash over me. There I sat, sharing bar food and drinks, smiling through tears.

Change in direction

Do you ever play the what if game? That speculative game where you think about the events and choices in your life where critical things happened to get you where you are today? I played that game this morning and this is what a came up with (critical path begins in September 2008 and there is some future speculation as well) -

Happy to report only green arrows so far. Let me know if you have any questions.

Dark, but true, context about the first plan

I need to say straight up and for the record, this is not a work of fiction. People who can write fiction have an imagination and an ability to tell stories. I can only tell the truth, as I have no imagination and a passable ability to tell stories. But I do have something better. I have Dan.

In my last post I said Dan does not plan to reach 54. This was absolutely the truth. He has an exit strategy. This truly means that he does not intend to get old, or become an invalid, or die of some debilitating disease. Which is not to say he hasn't been on the road to a heart attack, or a stroke, or who knows what else, because he hates seeing a doctor.

Here are the facts. Dan has watched too many of his relatives waste away, young at heart and feeble of body. This is never going to happen to him.  He told me this early and often in our relationship. Initially I did not believe him, it was too crazy to be true. But the longer we were together and the more opportunities I had to experience his resolve, the more I came to fear and then believe it was true. If you are having any difficulty with this, let me say it more plainly. He is planning to end his own life before nature can find a way to slowly end it for him. Was that 54, is it still 54? I don’t know for sure, but that is what he has always told me.

A critical reality check came for me when Dan turned 50.  He and best friend Malcolm had made a pact to have a pie fight in honor of their 50th birthdays.  This pact, made while still in college, seemed years away. Overnight, there it was, Dan and Malcolm's 50th just around the corner. They planned, and executed, a stunning birthday event complete with over 500 pies and over 100 guests. 

Now what? Four short years from Dan’s self-proclaimed end date, he had already provided Carl and Hunter with disposal instructions for his ashes (a topic for another day), and this was pressing on me. I had one ace to play and I played it – “don’t even think about this while your mom is alive, it would devastate her, she’s already lost one son.”  He agreed that would not be wise. So you can see, as a couple, relocating anywhere was not something I ever needed to think about.  I had a more pressing matter at hand. I needed to come up with a plan…

Music that resonates:

Warren Zevon -- Don't let us get sick

Change in plan

Let me be honest. Any formal plan to make a location change is going to involve a lot of discussions about money. The topic is going to come up early and often. It’s stressful. And because I’ve never taken the idea of moving anywhere very seriously we did not put a firm long term plan in place.

I’m not kidding when I say this, I’m married to a man, who up until he ran his first marathon 6 weeks ago, planned to be dead before he was 54.  He absolutely told me this when I was 19 and we got engaged. He repeated this for the first 25 or so years of our marriage. My instructions were to collect the life insurance payments, become a rich widow and get married again (my silent amendment to that plan was to get a pool and a pool boy). Seriously, this was Dan’s original plan. And just for the record, I was never in favor of this…well…except for the pool boy part…I kind of liked that idea.

Our entire married lives we’ve negotiated money this way…I handle the monthly bills, Dan gets the taxes done. We’ve always had joint accounts. Money is pooled, bills are paid, a set amount goes into savings and the rest is, well, spent. We cinch in when we need to and our outflow flexes with our fortunes.  We’ve lived on one small salary and two generous salaries. We’ve both embraced the theory of if you can fix it with money, it’s not worth worrying about, because you can always make more. Shake your head in disbelief now, it’s OK.

As we begin to seriously discuss a relocation, we need to examine our lack of a truly responsible long term fiscal strategy. Please don’t misunderstand, we do have savings, 401k and retirement plans working quietly, in the background. However with this shift in thinking the magnifying glass is out.  What can we do with these accounts and how can we make more money? What are the trigger dates for maximum pension payouts? What happens if we exit work on this date versus that date?  It’s exhausting and I don’t like it.

And I won’t get to interview prospective pool boys.

Loose change

Anyone who knows my husband Dan, knows he's a man with a plan. For years now his plan has been to move south, specifically to New Orleans. He's convinced that his soul was switched before birth and that there is some guy, trapped in Louisiana, who thinks ice fishing is a good idea. All along I've nodded and smiled and said OK, sounds good, some day. But in my heart of hearts I have not been interested or motivated to move.

I fundamentally agree with Dan that there is no compelling argument to live in Wisconsin forever. My biggest reason for staying has left town. Our two boys have graduated college and are slowly moving to the coasts. Carl, a musician, lives in Philadelphia and seeks jobs playing his bass in New York. Hunter, an actor, lives in Chicago and has his sights set on Los Angeles. No matter what, they will live a plane ticket away. And yet, I'm not ready to do it, commit to the big move. 

But wait, I did say Dan's plan is New Orleans, and this blog is about moving to the Keys! Yes. There has been a location change in the plan. I'm a beach girl, I like to scuba dive and I don’t like cold water. So move south? Maybe, but New Orleans...no. We needed to compromise, and in our 30+ years of marriage we’ve learned how to do that. So, three trips to Key West and Dan is sold. He now understands why, if we are going to move, I need quick access to a warm ocean!

So that’s it, right?  Put it on the calendar and go.  Not so easy for me, which brings me to the title of this post, “loose change”.

We just returned from a vacation in Key West.  Dan, excited about the idea of moving, needed to ACT.  He proceeded to find all the loose pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters in various containers about the house.  He pooled all the coins and took them to the bank, making a $123.00 deposit.  “Paula, we need to pay down that bill, so mail it in.”  And that’s it, he’s off and running – next stop, Key West.

For me, it’s not so easy.  I've determined my inertia comes from other places that I need to explore. Extended family, a multitude of friends, community and neighborhood, a great job, a house I love and a feeling of stability I'm afraid to uproot.  Dan’s personal self-confidence in maintaining the important connections, regardless of location, has not rubbed off on me. This blog is my attempt to gather up the loose change in my life, figure out what I’ve got and turn it into a plan. Those of you who know me, know that once I've made a commitment, I'm all in. The question for me is, what will it take to get there?

I expect this will be part stroll down memory lane, part self-awareness exercise, and part check-list, as I push past invisible and real barriers.  Probably not the most interesting topic in the world, but I’ll try to keep it fun. I’ve read enough blogs to know the best ones allow the writer to talk about what is important to them. And, in my opinion, the best blogs are not so much prolific as they are pertinent to the author, in that moment. If you choose to read more, thank you.  If not, that’s OK too. For me, this is all about the journey. It will be fun for me to see where it ends…