FINIS

This all started with Loose Change, Dan’s desire to move south and my need to process what that meant. I’m now at the end of this journey. Not quite where I had planned, “a sunset viewing from Mallory Square in Key West”, but close enough. At the time I said, “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.”

I know now that wasn’t true. I lacked (we both lacked) the catalyst required to make a big change. For my 17 loyal readers you know that the catalyst triggered over a year ago when my 15-year position ended with my employer in Milwaukee. We were faced with a choice – find suitable replacement income in the area, or move. Dan and I chose to move, because if not then, when?

Was it easy? No. We went insane for a while, dramatically downsizing (but in hindsight, not quite enough). Internet searches found us a rental that would take a big dog and landed us in a 624-square-foot house. And can I just say that people who want to live in a tiny house are bat-shit crazy.

It’s been a wild, scary, lonely, and exhilarating year. We found a new home in a community that we love. I’ve found a terrific job doing work that energizes me. We’ve both met new people and are starting to add to our collection of friends (there’s always room for more). And we are settling in to our new home, our new environment and the consequences of our decision to move.

Did we lose things along the way? Yes, proximity to family and friends, familiar routines, faces and places, and the comfort of knowing every street and landmark. Have we gained things? Again, yes. Dan is finally warm year-round, we know we can meet any challenge and we’ve found out that our children are our biggest role models and cheerleaders. (Shout-out to Carl and Hunter for great advice along the way!)

So here we are, just a 428-mile drive from Mallory Square, in a very lovely community. We have great neighbors, we found a welcoming coven of liberal thinkers and we enjoy the lifestyle of year-round warm. I’ve had the opportunity to reconnect with cousins who’ve included us in family gatherings even though we were quite distant before we landed here in Florida, and for that we are both grateful.

Change is hard. Big change is really hard. But it can be done, even if all you start with is loose change.

Songs that Resonate:

Photograph - Nickelback (for Carl and Hunter)

100 Years - Five for Fighting

Reverse Hibernation

Here I sit, on the cusp of a holiday season that for my entire life has been cold and snowy. The winter solstice has just past and the long, cold season is underway. Except, here, in Florida where residents tell us this is the time of year where everyone gets up and out of their houses because it’s just so beautiful outside.

I must apologize; Dan and I have been gleefully posting pictures of our pool installation, work on the yard and warm weather activities. We’ve been obnoxious, especially in light of the extreme cold most of our family and friends have been subjected to. We are experiencing our first “season”. That’s the word everyone uses to describe the return of snowbirds from their wintry abodes. It’s the word that explains why the “monthly” farmers market is now held on a weekly basis and why the street festivals have twice the number of vendors.

It’s reverse hibernation. In the north you’ll find fireplaces and hot chocolate waiting after a brief foray outside to enjoy some winter activity. For many northerners (myself included), winter is a mad dash (unless it’s icy) from house to car, car to work, car to store and so on. I avoided going outside unless I had a specific reason. I’ve never been a fan of winter sports and the associated equipment costs; I’ve always preferred the simplicity of shorts and t-shirts, swimsuits and a body of water to splash in. Though I do have to admit, I was one of those true Wisconsinites who wore shorts and a parka to the gym.

Here in central Florida folks are out running and biking without raising much of a sweat. The activity level is up even while the daytime hours are limited. I’m hearing that this is an unusually warm December with crisp nighttime lows in the mid-50s and daytime highs in the high-70s or low-80s. We’ve had our windows open for over a month, a happy change from constant air-conditioning. And we’ve been in the pool, not to cool off, but to enjoy our new toy. Dan and I debate the best temperature for the hot tub, 99 or 101 degrees; and it really depends if it’s a 55 or 65-degree night.

So next summer, when our northern friends and family are playing outside, think of me. I’ll be hibernating inside, hiding from temperatures in the high-90s with a matching humidity. I’ll be making a mad dash from air-conditioned house to sunbaked car hoping I don’t melt before the A/C kicks in. I’ll be coated in a sweat-proof SPF, thick as frosting. (Dan is happily immune to the effects of heat.) And we will be planning a visit to the north, to enjoy reasonable temperatures and moderate humidity, and the folks we miss very much.

Much love, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.

Music that resonates:

I'll Be Home for Christmas

Sea Change

All good things come to an end and while I'm not claiming it was good, this blog is nearing its end. I've got a few more things to say, but for now, Dan says it best.

“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.”—Excerpt from Loose Change, Paula’s first Castle to the Keys blog, November 7, 2010.

It’s six years later, nearing the end of Paula’s “three to eight year odyssey to leave our beloved Victorian in Wisconsin and move to a conch house in the Florida Keys.” We have just returned from another great vacation in Key West, this time taking a 57-minute flight to our home in Safety Harbor which, without its two additions, would have been small enough to fit in perfectly on most streets on our favorite island. Our move didn’t take us all the way to the Keys, but we can drive there in a few hours. Close enough.

This past trip to Fantasy Fest continued a pattern that would have been a great concern for 2010 Dan. Eight years ago at our first FF, I took 1,354 pictures. This year I took 128, most of Paula in outfits or group shots with friends. The Fest has become an incredible reunion of established and new friends from all over the world. Admittedly, friends who are pretty quick to shed their clothes and jump into a closed swimming pool at 3am. To our Fantasy Fest friends who we did see, didn’t see, or still need to meet—see you in about 50 weeks.

Tutu pub krawl

When Paula started her blog it was about taking chances and moving—something that at the time seemed so far away, so crazy that we both doubted it would actually happen. But down deep, we started to make it happen--$123 at a time. Moving wasn’t on my mind when I sold my motorcycle or our convertible, when I donated all of the lumber I was saving in the hayloft for “the next big project”, or gave away the fiberglass car body I was always going to make into something. It was calm on Kavanaugh Place, but just below the surface was a salt water thermocline and a strong current racing south. We just needed to get off the boat.

People have asked us how we made the move. We both responded that you start today—get a donation to Goodwill once a week and make sure every week the dumpster is packed to the brim. Don’t buy more stuff. Upon hearing that there’s usually a pause, followed by “Well we knew you’d be OK!”

When you jump off the dive boat you put your fist on the top of your head to signal to the other divers that you are OK and ready to descend. Last March two very shaky divers put their fists on their heads, held hands and deflated their BCD’s. We’re both happy with where we've surfaced. 

Music that resonates:
Tourist Town Bar - Michael McCloud

Limboland

Dan and I have been guests in Limboland for a few months now. Not the cool Caribbean dance or the religious limbo. That limbo defined as “an intermediate, transitional, or midway state or place.” Ours is a strange place marked by periods of great joy and deep sadness, but mostly by long periods of nothingness. It’s nothingness combined with anxiety because we just are not sure what is coming next. Limboland is filled with questions and answers just over the horizon. But the distance to the horizon is a mirage that defies measurement. Maybe tomorrow…or tomorrow…or tomorrow.

It’s not that we don’t have a plan. It’s that the plans of others need to line up with ours, and therein lies the problem. We are in a state of wait. Wait for the next offer on the house. Wait for decisions from potential employers. Do nothing and keep the house pretty while we wait for the next showing. Leave the house while strangers walk hoards of people through, again and again. Wait with the dog at the local coffee shop, keeping him on a short leash at the fire pit while he eyes up treats other patrons are eating.

In Limboland you own very little. Things that had both great sentimental and perhaps financial value a few months ago are nearly worthless today. Or are sold on Craigslist for pennies. Or eagerly given to friends and family. Fridays no longer mean the start of the weekend—they mean the dumpsters will be empty, ready for the next load. Things are saved from the fire pit at the last moment. Things are stacked in the garage waiting to be hauled cross-country to be stored in someone else’s basement. Residents of Limboland travel light.

I don’t mean to complain, we are actually in a great place and we do know there will be an end to this. It’s just so foreign to both Dan and I. We are used to being very busy. Currently untethered from our routine, we’ve had a hard time adjusting. We know the “end” has us living and working in Florida, on the gulf. The sunshine and palms wait for us as we neatly (can’t have a messy house) sort through our belongings. And without a move date, or a decision from an employer, it’s an activity without an end. In Limboland you live like squatters in a clean, sterile house that looks a lot like yours, but without the soul.

Change and transition is never easy. If we could have created our own perfect path from one point to the next it would never be as messy as it is right now. We’d have answers to every question – in fact, we’d have no questions. Both Dan and I are taking a lot of advice from our great adult sons, who’ve taken the leap, moved across the country and are happy with the change. They did it successfully, and not without bumps. They share with us tips about quickly acclimating to our new location and successfully making new connections. That, in and of itself, is odd – they usually call us for advice.

But in Limboland there is a broader message. It is not advertised, and many folks—I suspect—miss it. It took us a while to see it, and as it slowly sinks in, we know family members and friends who will have a much harder time than us. For some it might be impossible. Our advice, should you enter Limboland.

• It’s the memories, not things. Memories weigh nothing—things have weight and hold you down. Get Rid of the Weight.
• You have no control over the decisions—or indecisions—of others. Take your very best shot, learn from it and move on. It’s their loss, and you will succeed.
• As long as you are a team you are strong. Alternate who is in the Pit Of Despair and who is on the top of Optimistic Mountain. You may change places several times a day, but keep talking.
• The dog will be confused. Let him sleep in the bed for a few minutes every morning. Someone threw out his box of toys, and he’s been through the whole being abandoned thing once before. Let him know that this time, he’ll be coming along on the adventure. 

We’ll get there. In the meantime we attempt to adjust to Limboland and remain optimistic that no later than tomorrow, we’ll get at least one answer to one question. And if not tomorrow, then the day after that.

Halcyon Days

We're in the midst of sorting and packing. We've been making decisions about items in storage spaces that have been untouched for years. The boys came home for Christmas and had to look at, and disposition items, they thought would be safely stored at their parent’s house forever. We are at the cliff, the point where the next step forward is a huge change that neither Dan nor I were truly prepared to take for a few more years. 

And yet, I think about why I started this blog, and it was to ready my mind for that big move to a warmer climate and a new beginning. Dan has been ready to turn that snow blower into a fountain for a long time now.

In December, my job was eliminated, just business and nothing personal. Except that, of course it is personal. It’s about me, and about what I contributed, and to what extent that contribution was valued. My professional currency became valueless and it was at that point they let me go. The company is heading in a new direction that didn’t include me and it is just business.

How arrogant of me to think I’m special, because of course I'm not, this has happened to so many people before me, my husband included. And now we are here, at the end of almost 20 years in the same beautiful house and a very special neighborhood, with neighbors that are not likely to be duplicated. And we sort and we pack. Even the dog is confused. It looks like something big is happening, yet no one leaves or takes him to the kennel, but everything is different.

I’m not sure where this story ends. I’m not done working yet. Neither is Dan. I’m very optimistic about two different employment opportunities, in two different cities, in southern states. They want to talk to me in person and I’ll be an enthusiastic participant in those conversations.

And yet, what a wonderful house this has been, on an incredible street, in an incredible community. Such great friends so close by. My heart aches to think about leaving.

The real-estate agent is optimistic. Great old house, well cared for, premium value, sellers market. The home stager was sweet as she complimented us on all of our personal touches and let us know exactly what to remove. No distractions allowed to confuse potential buyers. “They need to see the house and not what you’ve done to make it your own.” So we sort and pack and neuter the house, our home.

Tears roll down my cheeks. It is the end of these halcyon days.