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

The trouble with airports

To my 17 loyal readers, my apologies, it’s been a strange and distracting summer, and I haven’t been able to capture and share my thoughts. This is my best attempt to jump back into the blog-o-sphere.

It can hardly be a coincidence that no language on Earth has ever produced the expression "As pretty as an airport." (Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, by Douglas Adams)

Let’s face it; nothing brings you down faster from the high of a trip than an airport. It’s a bookend fact of life. You’re excited to go somewhere, but you have to start at the airport. If you don’t score the TSA pre-check, you are forced to shed clothing, get a body scan and re-dress in a recombobulation area (a real place at MKE). This causes me quite a bit of stress when I’m traveling with Dan, who is always “two foops from naked”. He’s always ready to foop, foop, naked and “any other questions." I choose another line; I do not know him at TSA. And then, days later, your wonderful trip is over and you return to the airport. Delays, or sprints between gates to catch the connecting flight. If you miss your connection, or the flight home is cancelled, enjoy the $12 dinner voucher and 4 hours of sleep at an airport hotel. Delightful.

Most recently, Dan and I took off in separate directions. He left on a Friday to fly to PHL via ORD; a trip to help the kids determine if a house was worth consideration. He arrived at MKE 90 minutes prior to takeoff. The first flight was uneventful. The second flight from ORD to PHL was delayed eight times. He tells me he led two of the three passenger uprisings, and scored free drinks for the entire plane when it finally took off over 9 hours late. Go Dan. I took a business trip to MCO via IAH, with a return through CLT back to MKE. On both the outbound and return I had to sprint to a new terminal and find the gate at the farthest possible distance from my starting point. Cardio.

I know why blue hairs drive Lincolns (we are a Ford family). They can sit on a rolling couch for a few hours a day; barely driving with the cruise control on and listen to talk radio. They are retired, they can take weeks to arrive calmly at a destination, with 20 stops along the way at a Waffle House, or Cracker Barrel, or iHOP, or some other nasty chain restaurant. The can check into any number of hotels off the interstate, with their AAA and AARP discount cards. They can avoid the painful waits in ugly airports with overpriced drinks, mediocre food and plastic ware. Their blood pressure stays normal as a delay in their trip is by choice, and they don’t have to put their heart meds to the test on a sprint between gates.

I’ve always said that the only requirement for us to relocate is that we are within reasonable distance from an airport, able to reach our children quickly. But, the more time we spend in airports, I wonder, perhaps we just need to be close to a Lincoln dealer.

Music that resonates:

Hot Rod Lincoln - Commander Cody

Let it Ride on 37 Black

The lead up to a trip is always full of expectations. Our last long weekend was no exception. We planned a four day trip to Las Vegas. We had a direct flight from Milwaukee; Carl and his girlfriend Ashley flew in from Philadelphia; Hunter and his wife Megan drove in from Los Angeles. We expected a Johnson’s take Vegas type weekend full of family silliness. And I know that Dan was hopeful for some sort unexpected “Hangover” action. None of us had ever been to Las Vegas, so at minimum we expected to be blown away by the city.

Dan and I certainly had heard the Vegas stories over the years. We were expecting free drinks, inexpensive and plentiful buffets, tours and entertainment aplenty. Dan scoured websites for Las Vegas tips and came away with lists of “specials.” Carl, expecting his father would over-plan the weekend, called me in advance to make sure he could have one whole day at the pool. I expected to spend quality time with the kids and take a day trip to the Hoover Dam or see a bit of the city.

We all arrived on Friday morning, checked into the hotel and headed out for lunch. The sticker shock of that first lunch tab sent Dan to his list of food bargains. He expected that we could eat more, for less. The next morning we decided to test it out. Dan pulled up directions on his iPhone and declared that the cheapest breakfast buffet was a mere 1.7 miles away. We were going to walk, not a problem for our family as we enjoy a good walk. I should point out here that, unlike the rest of the Johnsons, I need food first thing in the morning. When I am not fed on a regular basis I grow another head – a snarly, growly head.

We left our hotel, the Paris, and started out for Circus Circus and the cheapest buffet on the strip. After about 1 ½ miles of walking I was getting pretty hungry and started commenting on the distance. Dan, trying to calm me down said something to the effect that he really didn’t want this to be a death march. Really Dan? Because when you take a group of hungry people on a 1.7 mile walk across the desert I don’t know how you expect that it would be anything but a death march! Oh, I guess I said that out loud.

We finally arrived, were seated and went to the buffet. It was awful. Really awful. And filled with people who had no business in an all-you-can-eat buffet. I can assure you we were the only family who walked any portion of a mile to get to that meal. Dan commented that if anyone cared about these people’s health they would sink two steel poles into the concrete about 36” apart. If someone couldn’t fit in-between, then no buffet for you. On the walk back we stopped at a Walgreen’s. I treated the family to some Imodium to combat what Carl dubbed our rented breakfast.

Let’s face it: Las Vegas is full of expectations and light on delivery. It’s enormous, and as Ashley said, completely “faux”. It feels like a house of cards, built on a deck of cards. Initially, you are dazzled, amazed, awe-inspired – it is truly larger than life. And then you start to really look around. You see the emotionless people, with a player’s plastic card tethered to the slot machine like an umbilical cord. You hear the man on the elevator tell his wife that he only lost another $100. We played a few slots, actually could have cashed out with about $3 more than our initial investment, but of course, we expected the next draw to win, even more, until there was nothing left.

The expectation to win on “37 black” came to Dan in a dream a few nights before we left to meet the boys in Las Vegas. He mentioned it to me a few times in the lead up to our departure. He expected it to win. Big. When we met the kids at the hotel Dan immediately told them of his plan to put $50 on 37 black; they laughed. Walking confidently up to the table, it seems a roulette wheel only has 36 spots. Dan did bring home something unexpected however--a case of pink eye. He’s been to Las Vegas twice in his life and both times he’s come home with pink eye (I kid you not). Las Vegas is no place for a man susceptible to communicable diseases!

Our expectations for family time were met. We laughed a lot. We enjoyed each other’s company. Oh, and there was one unspoken expectation of mine that was met – the show guys are as gorgeous as I’d thought they’d be… 

Music that resonates:
Viva Las Vegas - ZZ Top (and no, Carl is not in the music video)