Tag Archives: The Villages

Faux Retirement Suits Me

May 26, 2023 Sharon Leave a comment

As I prepare to move to Thailand, I’m camped out at our house in The Villages, a 55+ community in central Florida. When my parents moved here, we bought this place as a vacation rental while abroad and as our home base when visiting the States.

The only other time I’ve spent more than a few weeks here was during the pandemic. I had come from Chile to see my mom and got stuck here. Although Florida was pretending Covid didn’t exist, I continued to follow Chile’s approach: strict social distancing, wearing a mask, and staying home. So it wasn’t a whole lot of fun.

This time, I’m accessing my inner joiner. I love classes, clubs, and community events, and there is no shortage of such things in this surreal Disneyland for grown-ups. The Parks and Recreation list of clubs is 204 pages long. Two hundred and four pages!

So far, I’ve joined a weekly ladies coffee klatsch, a book club, and a hiking group, and I reached out to the organizer of a club for international teachers (which won’t meet again till September, unfortunately).

I’ve had great conversations with ladies over coffee and even met a Chilena! The book club discussed One Italian Summer, by Rebecca Serle. Even though most of us found it to be fluffy and unsatisfying, I was so grateful to talk books with a bunch of smart women. The weekly hikes provide so much of what I’ve been craving: social interaction, nature, and group exercise. Here’s a shot of us at Pruitt Trail, which included a section on a levy created when Florida toyed with digging a barge canal connecting the Gulf of Mexico with the Atlantic Ocean. (Learn more about that here.)

Perusing the Parks and Rec list, I discovered more groups for people who share my interests: expat life, plant-based diet, meditation, ukulele, and all kinds of theatre. There are heaps of exercise classes, including mainstream options such as yoga, pilates, weight lifting, and cardio fitness, as well as kookier offerings like cardio drumming, hula hoop workout, dance party, and body groove. Yes, please!

What’s more, that Parks and Rec list reflects just a sliver of the lifestyle pie served up daily.

If you’ve seen the Netflix documentary about The Villages, you’re probably snickering at my enthusiasm. Yes, it’s a pretty darn homogenous community. Sure, I’m a blue dot in a dramatically red state. Yep, there is a LOT of partying among some of this crowd. As for the colored loofahs accenting the golf cart antennae, many Villagers have insisted to me that it’s just to help them find their vehicles in the parking lot. Still, the reputation persists, and some people like to play into it.

One lady posted this on Facebook with (a) the loofah guide that gets everyone’s blood pumping and (b) a more realistic guide.

I’ve seen my share of drunken revelry at the nightly outdoor concerts, but more often than that, I’ve encountered people with interesting life stories making the most of their golden years.

Since finding a moth infestation in our storage unit, I’ve had much less time for fun. The space is stuffed like a 3-D Tetris game with everything we had at our lake house in Michigan and at our apartment in Chile. I’m hoping to unpack enough to solve the moth problem and prepare for a garage sale next month.

When I’m not digging through boxes, I ride my bike about 12 miles each morning, take long walks, drive my 98-year-old neighbor to her appointments, hang out with my mom (who lives right down the street), and meet up with lovely locals. I know it’s too early to dream of retirement, but at least I know I’ll be good at it.

Florida, Midlife Crisis Edition

Bowled over

January 7, 2023 Sharon Leave a comment

For my Christmas present to all the nieces and nephews this year, I planned a bowling party. Their enthusiasm and shenanigans, including lots of silly performances following strikes and spares, kept us in stitches. Compared to the last time they all bowled together in the summer of 2018, they’re all so dang big now. They still used the bumpers, but nobody needed the assist ramp to roll the ball onto the lane. There were no hissy fits or tears among the losers, and we could send them to the counter on their own to return their shoes. Perhaps the most dramatic change was when they all went to hug me at once, I was legitimately scared I would fall over. I guess that’s more a reflection on my aging than theirs!

July 20, 2018

December 28, 2022

No more babies! Wah! Middle: All my nieces and nephews with my mom.

Daily Life, Florida

Pandemic Diary – the Quest for a Test

June 25, 2020 Sharon 2 Comments

Now that I have quarantined at my house in central Florida for almost two weeks, I’m ready to get out of here. I want to drive to my sister’s home near Destin, where I can hunker down with her family. I look forward to giggles with my sassy little niece, Annesley, and informative chats about lizards with my precocious nephew, Will. Their new pool is also calling my name. However, I want to be sure I’m virus-free before invading their space.

Everyone has been telling me how easy it is to get a Covid-19 test in the States, and sure enough, when I googled it yesterday, I found an online interface where I could register for drive-up testing at several locations. I filled out the form, chose a location, clicked on one of the available appointments, and was sent to another form. It took all of two minutes to complete the process, but when I clicked “submit,” a message popped up saying, “Sorry, that time is no longer available. Please choose a new time.” When I followed those directions, it wiped all my information off the forms, and I had to start over. Which I did. ELEVEN times!

I now knew my mom’s mobile number, my health insurance membership number, and my rental car license plate by heart, but I still didn’t have an appointment.

I googled again and found the number for the Florida Department of Health. I learned that I could get free covid testing with no appointment at one of three locations between 9 a.m. and 2 p.m. “The Clermont site has already used up all their tests for the day, though,” I was told. I asked about the other two sites. One was more than an hour’s drive, but the other – about 30 minutes away – still had tests available.

It was 9:30 a.m. I grabbed my keys and my mask and hit the road. When I arrived at the health department around 10 a.m., a big sign informed me, “COVID testing closed.” Another note explained the 100 tests allocated for the day had already been used. When I got home, I called the health department office to find out how early I would need to arrive to get one of the coveted tests. “Oh just be here by 9, and you’ll be fine,” the receptionist said.

This morning, I was on the road by 8:10 a.m. I packed a book, planning to hang out in my car till the clinic opened. Instead, I arrived to find a full parking lot and a line of masked test seekers. The “COVID testing closed” sign was still posted, so I almost turned around to drive home. Instead, I parked and started preparing a firm but civil reaction if someone informed me that I was too late. Lucky for me, that didn’t happen.

It should say 9 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. ’cause if you’re any later, you are not getting tested!

A nurse handed me a baggie with a blank label on it. She told me to write my name, phone number, and birthdate and then proceed to another nurse, Rosanna, who gave the instructions. Open the baggie, take out a swab, and stick it up both nostrils. “How high do we have to stick it?” I asked. I had heard you practically have to touch your brain. “As high as you’re comfortable,” she answered. “Just clean out your boogers.”

Boogerless, I took a little liquid-filled vial out of the baggie and popped my swab inside. I handed my baggie back to Rosanna, and I was finished. It looked like another 20 people behind me in line would get the last of the tests; a health department worker was sending everyone else away at 9:40 a.m.

Once I got over my crankiness at the state of Florida for making this process so frustrating, I rather enjoyed my drive home. I guess I hadn’t realized how close I was to a beautiful stretch of countryside.

My parents have lived in this retirement community for several years. Although I have visited many times, we usually hung out at their house or the pool. We didn’t venture far beyond the subdivision gates. When Tony and I bought a house just up the street from my mother, we advertised it as a seasonal rental, so we haven’t gotten emotionally invested enough to learn about the area. For example, I had no idea a huge national forest is practically in our backyard!

According to the U.S. Forest Service, the Ocala National Forest “is the southernmost forest in the continental United States and protects the world’s largest contiguous sand pine scrub forest. The forest has more than 600 lakes, rivers, and springs, including three first-magnitude springs where visitors can swim, snorkel, and dive in crystalline waters year round.” (I just looked it up. A first-magnitude spring is the largest kind of spring, discharging at least 64.6 million gallons of water per day.) Wait, what?! How do I not know about this place?

In addition to boasting some gorgeous trees and springs, which frankly were enough to get me super excited, the Ocala National Forest also features several recreation areas, an historic mill house on the National Register of Historic Places, an archaeological site with evidence of pre-Columbian settlements, and an interpretive trail through the area that inspired Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings to write her Pulitzer Prize-winning book, The Yearling. (Check out this story from NPR.)

Hold on … Fun? Nature? Cultural heritage? Literature? Those are my favorite things! Another favorite thing? Horses. And guess where you can find the Ocala 100-Mile Horse Trail? As soon as I win the lottery, I am buying a horse and getting on that trail. Can’t wait.

On my two trips to the health department, I passed through part of the national forest and witnessed other spirit-nourishing scenes, as well. An eagle’s nest, perched at the top of a towering tree. Acres of bee boxes. A flock of shorn sheep (I wasn’t even sure what I was seeing at first!). Sandhill cranes, including a baby (!) strolling through the fields. Horses grazing, cows snoozing in the shade. And lakes! So many lakes. In typical fashion, I was quite giddy and may have shrieked a bit with delight.

So, lesson learned. Every cloud has a silver lining … blah, blah, blah. Instead of moaning about having to drive 30 minutes for a covid test, I am rejoicing to discover so much beauty right around the corner. For now, I will wait for my test results and fantasize about the day when the parks reopen and we can all get back out there to soak it up.

Florida, On the Road

Stress Balding in My Dreams

June 13, 2020 Sharon 1 Comment

Last night, I dreamt I was getting ready for a family party. As I ran my hairbrush over the top of my head, my hair peeled off like a wig, leaving a bald, scabby patch. I shrieked and showed my sister, who said, “Yeah, that’s pretty bad. But you can probably comb your hair over to cover it up.” This morning, I asked the internet to interpret my dream. Here’s the general consensus:

“Another interpretation of the meaning of losing your hair in a dream is fear of losing control or feelings of helplessness. If you dream about losing your hair it could indicate that you are afraid of a situation in your life or that you feel powerless in a particular situation in your life.” (zeroinonnutrition.com)

Hmmm … You think?!

Do you think I might “have a fear of losing control’ because I have been on lockdown in a three-bedroom apartment with my husband and cat for 14 weeks? We started “distance learning” in mid March. At first, I thought it sounded fun and easy, but I soon realized I would work harder and longer hours than I ever have in my career. I got emails from eighth graders at 10 p.m. wanting feedback on essays that were due at 8 a.m. the next day. At first, I refused. However, it didn’t take long to figure out those teens slept late and worked in the evenings. If that’s what their pubescent brains and bodies needed, I had to play along. I felt gloomy and lonely and hopeless. Finally I stopped wallowing and started getting up earlier to practice yoga. Nothing crazy, just a gentle morning wake-up practice. I felt the transformation right away. I faced each day with a little more optimism, a little less self-pity. Yet, there was no denying I was trapped with an introvert (my husband) and a narcissist (my cat). Both needed a lot of attention, but neither had the skill set to fill my emotional void.

Do you think I am “afraid of a situation in my life” because I am the poster child for Seasonal Affective Disorder, and South American winter is right around the corner? Tony and I had agreed to spend our “winter break” in Chile. We were relatively comfortable and safe. We could and did get whatever we needed delivered to our door: organic produce, beer and wine, groceries, a computer dongle, even two jigsaw puzzles. For a while, we could leave the building with our masks on, but the explosion of coronavirus cases in Santiago led to an extended quarantine. We had to go online for governmental approval to leave the house, which we did three times. It was no joke. I even got pulled over on my bike during one of my outings so the officer could confirm I had legitimate permission. As our beautiful sunny autumn turned gray and chilly, I visualized spending the next couple months in that apartment. I wouldn’t just be lonely and anxious. I would be lonely, anxious, and cold. Despite my reservations about traveling and hunkering down with Floridian covid-deniers, I impulsively got online and booked tickets to Orlando.

Do you think I might feel “powerless” because I put my fate in the hands of a bankrupt airline? To be fair, the flight from Santiago to Miami on Latam Airlines impressed me. The flight attendants all wore masks and ensured passengers were able to maintain some personal space. Passengers were required to wear masks, and some went full hazmat. There was no drink service or complicated meal tray. We got a bottle of water and a tray of ravioli. I took off my mask to wolf down the food and then quickly put it back on. In Miami, we disembarked by row rather than crowding together in the usual crush to get off the plane. The airport felt relatively safe. Nearly everyone wore masks and seemed to avoid crowding together. After collecting our luggage, we were all funneled into a security area where officers completely unpacked our bags, presumably looking for drugs. I had forgotten about the Brita filters I brought home to recycle. They do look suspicious. The officer stabbed one with his knife, releasing a pile of carbon sand, and then politely encouraged me to repack and move on to my connecting flight. That was weird and stressful, but nonthreatening from a virus perspective.

Do you think I might have “feelings of helplessness” because I was getting on a plane with a whole lot of people who don’t seem to care about social distancing and wear their face masks more like chin guards? Once American Airlines started boarding for Orlando, I realized my sense of security was about to evaporate. About half the passengers wore masks; fewer wore masks correctly, actually covering their mouths and noses. I was wearing an N-95 medical mask with another cloth mask on top. Yes, two masks. While waiting for my group to board, I overheard a couple girls snickering behind my back. I turned around to see they were staring at me while wearing their own masks down around their lower lips. I wanted to yell, “I just traveled from a country with 167,000 cases and more than 3,000 deaths. I am terrified that I’m transporting this virus to Florida. I am double masking for you! You’re welcome!” I felt so deflated knowing that whatever I do to protect myself and others, I am at the mercy of these people who don’t take it seriously.

Anyway, I am quarantining at my house in Florida, and it really is a lovely little place. I got up this morning for my usual yoga practice. I drank coffee outside, listening to the birds. I drove to Walmart for a non-contact grocery pickup, which was convenient and safe, much to my relief. I did a sudoku puzzle, worked on report card comments, scrubbed and refilled the bird bath, lounged outside with a book, Facetimed with a good friend, and called my sister to tell her about my dream. I’m about to pop some sweet potatoes in the oven. Life could be worse.

Still, uncertainty is my nemesis. The website’s interpretation was spot on. And so, until life returns to some version of normal, I suppose I will wake from disturbing haircuts with a better understanding of why they haunt my dreams.

On the Road

frolicking with family in florida

July 12, 2019 Sharon Leave a comment

For the second year in a row, we’re not spending the summer in Lake Orion, Michigan. It’s weird. For 10 years, we traveled from wherever we lived at the time – Laos, India, Chile – to meet up with my extended family at our lake house. We poured thousands of dollars into updating and renovating. We lit flares, watched fireworks, and otherwise reveled in the lake culture at the Fourth of July. We sat on the grass while the kids waded, snorkeled, collected little shells, jumped off the dock, and eventually grew big enough to kayak around the island.

Now, life has taken us in a new direction. Our house is on the market. Check it out here.

And we have a new rental property in Florida. Check it out here.

My parents live just a few houses down the road from our Florida house, and my sister Megan and her family moved to Destin, a 6-hour drive away. For a family of nomads, it seems Florida is the reunion destination for now.

We kicked off our “winter break” from school in Chile with a visit to my sister’s house in Destin. My other sister Kate drove from Michigan with her three boys. We saw “Toy Story 4,” had a perfect beach day, set up the bouncy slide, played Quizlet, and reconnected.

After a few days, we all drove to The Villages to meet up with my parents. My brother, Mike, brought his family from Abu Dhabi, where he and Summer teach at the American Community School. Tony and I had planned to stay at our rental house. We hauled in our bags, unpacked a bit, and then got a message from my property manager saying someone had booked the place. I had forgotten to block the dates! So, we repacked, cleaned, and headed to a hotel.

We spent mornings by the hotel pool with all seven kids splashing and playing together. We met up for lunch and dinner and filled the afternoons with hanging out, chatting, watching the wildlife in my parents’ backyard, playing, and bowling. Dancing in the Spanish Springs town square in the evening is always a hoot with these little guys!

Megan taught me how to make DIY beauty products.

Poor Buddy. So much love from so many small people.

So much laughter! I’ll miss you all …

On the Road

summer Vacation Fail-ish

February 26, 2019 Sharon Leave a comment

Possibly the greatest perk to being a teacher is summer break. It’s an opportunity to rest and reenergize after a long, busy semester. If the break is overbooked, disappointing, or otherwise not restful, a teacher could struggle to face the first day of school.

In Chile, our “summer break” comes in December, and we return to school in February. Tomorrow, to be exact (Feb. 12). Unfortunately for us, this break was a big fail in a lot of ways. I realize it will be hard to garner sympathy when we just wrapped up seven weeks off work, spent time with family, did some sight-seeing in Chicago for a few days, and got to see “Hamilton.” But trust me, it was disappointing.

We kicked off the break with a week at my sister Megan’s house near Destin, FL. My other sister Kate drove down from Michigan with her three boys, and my parents made the trek from their central Florida home. Day after day, we laughed till our faces hurt. The kids presented skits, and we had a “white elephant” gift exchange on Christmas Eve. We played many rounds of Quiplash (which led to a ban on answers that included “poop” or “fart”). Christmas day was a blast with our traditional Nerf war and cinnamon buns, excited kids, and beach time. There may have been a few pranks (mom’s Italian pitcher wrapped up as a gift for Megan, fake tattoos of my dad’s signature…). We also packed in a visit to a state park and a dolphin-watching cruise during our visit.

At the end of the week, Tony flew to Michigan and I spent another week in Florida, in The Villages. I wanted to hang out with my parents and check on my rental property. I sat with my dad at chemotherapy every day, ran errands, visited with my renters (who were former neighbors of my parents in Michigan), chatted with my mom, and watched the wildlife in the backyard pond.

For New Year’s Eve, we enjoyed a fancy dinner and music at Katie Belle’s in the Spanish Springs town square. This year’s celebration wrapped up at 10:30 p.m. (unlike the last time we did this, when the champagne toast took place at 6:30 p.m.).

On Jan. 6, I flew to Michigan to meet up with Tony. We had to make some tough decisions. We had purchased our lake house in 2009 when my parents lived in Michigan, and we enjoyed many wonderful summers with friends and family swimming, kayaking, paddleboarding, and picnicking at Lake Orion. Now, my parents live in Florida, and we work in South America, where summers are winters and winters are summers. Our long “summer break” no longer takes place when my nephews and nieces have their summer break. I knew there was no hope of luring everyone to Michigan during our summer break, which is North American winter. Heck, I didn’t even want to be there!

So … what to do with that house? Instead of making a decision, we drove to Chicago for a few days.

A couple hours into our drive, we got smacked with a blizzard.

That slowed us down a bit, but eventually we reached Chicago’s funky Wicker Park neighborhood and our fabulous art-deco hotel, The Robey. I felt pretty proud of myself for using the SpotHero app to find a cheap-ish parking spot right next to the hotel. Weirdly, there was no snow in Chicago … yet.

That night, we enjoyed cocktails in The Up Room, our hotel’s 13th-floor rooftop lounge. Almost froze my face off to get this shot.

Wicker Park is chock full of hipster cafés and restaurants, but we especially loved Sultan’s Market, just a few steps from the hotel. Who knew you could eat like this for 7 bucks in Chicago?!

Tony and I mastered Chicago’s public transportation. We walked, bused, and zipped around town on “the L.”

We bought a CityPASS and hit some typical tourist hot spots, including the Field Museum of Natural History, Shedd Aquarium, and the Art Institute of Chicago.

The Field Museum blew our minds. We spent a whole day there and could have used more time. Some highlights … One spectacular exhibit walked us through the earth’s 4.6-billion-year timeline, including the present ice age. Another highlight was the fossil skeleton of SUE, a 40-foot-long and 90-percent-complete Tyrannosaurus rex. Displayed in a reproduction of a Late Cretaceous forest, SUE came to life through a wonderful digital presentation detailing its physical characteristics and its role in scientific research. We also walked through the “Underground Adventure,” which “shrinks” visitors to 1/100th of their actual size for encounters with life in the soil beneath our feet. Having visited both Egypt and Peru, I was especially interested in an exhibit that compared the mummification practices in the two ancient civilizations. We also watched a 4-D movie about Egypt. What a fantastic museum!

My obsession with beluga whales brought us to Shedd Aquarium. We went to the show, which is way more educational and less exploitative than I remember from past visits to aquariums!

At the Art Institute, we definitely felt the benefit of traveling during the low season. There was no jostling through the crowd. We just meandered and paused at will, taking time to marvel at some of the world’s most iconic artworks.

Our last night in Chicago, we went to The Second City. Here’s the website’s description of the show: “Unseen forces have assessed the data to create the perfect comedy content for all humans! Algorithm Nation or The Static Quo takes no prisoners (well, maybe just a few prisoners) during this frenetic, ultra-current, fall-down funny ride that focuses its sights on hyper-violence, astrological love connections, being woke, pyramid schemes, Facebook soldiers, Black Twitter, morning TV and a whole lot more. Consider this show to be the kind of escape room you’ll never want to escape from…ever.”

We had front-row seats, which I half-feared and half-hoped meant that we would be part of the show. Not only were we part of the show, I OPENED the show! After a simulated mass shooting, one of the “victims” crawled across the stage and handed me a piece of paper and a microphone. “Stand up and read it,” he gasped. So I did. It was full of hilarious – albeit crass – commentary on the impending performance, including one word I had never heard before. (It’s too gross to include on this family-friendly blog. Ha!) Anyway, I’m basically famous now. So cool!

The most stupendous experience of our week and, in fact, the whole reason we went to Chicago was to see the hip-hop musical sensation, “Hamilton.” I was more than a little excited.

Look how close we were!

Before the show started, I managed to contain my enthusiasm. That didn’t last long. As soon as I heard the opening notes, I got chills and started grinning. I kept catching myself sitting on the edge of my seat, mouth agape, eyes wide. Occasionally the people in the next row would turn back and look at me because I was singing out loud. I knew the songs by heart, but I couldn’t have anticipated how much the live show would affect me. Goosebumps. Tears. Overwhelming emotions. I almost can’t even write about it without getting the shakes.

By the time we left Chicago, it was transformed into a Winter Wonderland, aka Sharon’s Version of Hell.

Back in Michigan, the Polar Vortex was wreaking havoc. Heaps of snow, icy winds, and temperatures that dipped as low as -30ºF one night. Ice hockey players skated around the lake, and I even saw a guy ice fishing.

That was amusing for about five minutes. We knew we had to make a decision about our house, and I’m not gonna lie, this weather made that tough decision a little easier.

We decided to sell.

With somewhat heavy hearts, we sorted through 10 years of stuff that had collected at our lake house. Closets full of outdated clothes (we kept the same summer wardrobe here year after year). Thirteen life jackets with sizes ranging from newborn to adult XXL. Bins of old books and broken toys. Unwanted furniture and tools. A drawer full of chargers and random cords. Two children’s kayaks, outgrown by all the nephews and nieces. The list goes on.

After hauling many loads to The Salvation Army thrift shop, selling a few things, giving a LOT away on Craig’s List, and loading up our neighbor’s van with freebies, we packed up the rest and put it in storage. Then we cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned.

Here are the “after” shots.

Living room/kitchen.
Living room/kitchen.
Kitchen.
View from kitchen into living room.
Laundry room.
Dining room.
Hall from living room to master bedroom (with pocket door to the basement).
Hall closets.
Master bedroom.
Huge master bedroom closet.
Built-in office space in the master bedroom.
Master bath.
Guest bedroom.
Guest bedroom.
New flooring in guest bath.
Basement utility room.
Basement.
Basement storage space.

Our realtor plans to put our house on the market in March. Interested?

After escaping from blustery Michigan, I spent another week in Florida with my parents while Tony flew straight back to Chile to welcome his sisters. Liz had visited us in India, but this was Angela’s first trip out of the country. Tony played tour guide for a few days, taking his sisters to the hot spots in and around the Santiago.

When I returned to Chile, I joined them for a day trip into the Andes Mountains. We drove to Valle Nevado, a ski resort about two hours from our apartment. As we drove higher, the hairpin curves got tighter and steeper. At the top, giant condors soared overhead.

We ate lunch at the restaurant and then rode the chairlift up for the view.

A couple days later, Tony took Liz and Angela to the airport and sent them home to North American winter. And just like that, our “summer break” was over.

Unlike some of our friends and colleagues, we didn’t hang out at a Brazilian beach or shop for handicrafts in Mexico City. We didn’t hike in Patagonia or ski in Japan. We didn’t snorkel in the Galapagos Islands or traipse around Australia.

I had planned to study Spanish and practice yoga every day, but days slipped by without my cracking a book or rolling out my mat. I thought I would spend lots of time with my sister and her kids in Michigan, but once we decided to sell the house, we spent every waking moment working to get it ready. I found myself crabby and resentful over spending such a cherished holiday doing such mundane things.

Then I felt guilty for feeling crabby. We’re so lucky, aren’t we? To live abroad and have so many wonderful opportunities?

Then I felt crabby again. Of course we’re fortunate, but that doesn’t make it any easier to return to the demanding work of teaching young children without the rest and regeneration that usually comes with a long break.

So, here we are, back at school. You know what that means? Time to get away for a weekend!

Florida, On the Road

Florida Family Time

September 23, 2018 Sharon Leave a comment

Tony and I just got home from Peru, and I was sitting down to write about our trip when I realized I never finished writing about our last trip. Such a blog slacker.

After our visit to Costa Rica, I ditched Tony and popped up to Florida to sign the paperwork on our new house and hang out with my family. We found a cute furnished home on the golf course, just a block from my parents, and we’re hoping it will be a hit with snowbirds seeking a seasonal rental. It was in pretty good shape, but the previous owners had rented it out for a long time without much TLC.

I did a cursory inventory of the house and hauled a lot of bedding, dishes, and random objects to a local thrift shop and the garbage. The sellers seemed to have dumped all their unwanted junk at this house before signing it over to us.

I have mixed feelings about owning a home in a 55+ neighborhood, even if it bills itself as a “fun and affordable active adult community where everything you could possibly want, need, or dream of doing in your retirement years is just a golf car ride away.” The town makes a few exceptions for buyers who are (just barely) too young for the ‘hood. When I got my Villages ID, the community center workers made me feel like a teenager. “You’re so youuuuuung!” they crooned.

We decided to task my mom with the job of getting the place rent-worthy. She found many ridiculous former “fixes,” such as shutters hung upside down and kitchen drawers reinforced with a paint stirrer and a broken yardstick. She swore she could make the repairs and decorate by the end of September. The only stipulation: “I have a vision, and you don’t get to say anything about it.” Hmmm… I don’t know many contractors that include a clause like that. But hey, she’s doing it for free and she has a knack for this. We call her “business” La La La Decorating. (You know, like when you hold your hands over your ears and say, “La la la, I can’t hear you!”)

Lucky for me, my whole family decided to spend spring break in The Villages. My sister, Kate, and her gang drove down from Michigan, and my brother, Mike, and his clan popped by Florida en route from Korea to their new home in Abu Dhabi. My other sister, Megan, and her family recently moved to Florida, so they drove about five hours to join the fun.

That was a whole lot of chaos at my parents’ house, so I hauled all seven nieces and nephews up the street to my vacant house. They played with legos and army men, made slime, wrestled, and colored. We had an epic pillow fight with the many trash-bound pillows left by the previous owners.

For my Super Auntie moment, I had planned a special presentation about Costa Rica. The little cuties all sat at my feet like they were in circle time at school while I shared fun facts about the different places we visited and showed pictures on my phone of the animals we spotted on our trip. At the end, I leaned down and whispered, “Guess what? I brought some of the animals back for you.”

They paraded to the living room, where my oldest nephew, Nico, had helped me set up an exhibit of stuffed animals. He made a sign and positioned the sloths, bats, squirrel monkeys, white-faced monkeys, armadillos, and a macaw on the TV cabinet. He and I had come up with a system for each kid to draw a number, and then they would go in that order to choose their animal to keep. I worried that they would fight over a specific animal or get upset if they didn’t get the one they wanted, but it all went smoothly. Their cherubic smiles swelled my heart and eased my distress at spending a cubic ton of cash on amazon to get those toys.

Of course, there was the requisite dancing in the Spanish Springs town square (accessible by golf cart from my parents’ – and, gulp, now our neighborhood).

We also went bowling one afternoon and got a lot of attention. “You guys sure have fun,” one bowling alley senior commented.

And Jack celebrated his 5th birthday poolside.

We crammed a lot of love into less than a week’s visit. Adios till Christmas!

On the Road

Easter Bunny brings mini family reunion to Florida

May 21, 2018 Sharon Leave a comment

Tony and I have lived abroad for 17 years, and without a doubt, the hardest part for me is the lack of contact time with my parents, siblings, and seven adorable nephews and nieces. We chose this lifestyle to see the world, immerse ourselves in different cultures, and broaden our perspectives. So when a school break comes along, I grapple with a self-imposed guilt-ridden juggling act: Go home? Explore a new place?

The week before Easter, I chose to go home. I took a few personal days, combined it with our two days off school, and headed to Florida. I thought I would enjoy a little quiet time with my parents and get the scoop on my dad’s illness. That happened – a bit – but thanks to school holidays around the world, my visit turned into a mini-reunion.

My sister Kate brought her three boys from Michigan, and my brother Mike and his wife, Summer, traveled from Korea with their two kids. Our other sister Megan had just wrapped up a Florida trip, so she couldn’t justify joining us, unfortunately.

With live music in the town square every night, the younger kids danced their hearts out. The older ones are just starting to get embarrassed by their family, so they mostly sat out.

Max and my mom boogie.

This is my new go-to happy video. Jack was the life of the party.

We spent a day at the club pool, where my face hurt from laughing at the shenanigans of these silly cousins.

Max celebrated his fourth birthday with a pool party at the hotel. Such a cutie.

One night, I sent the other adults out to dinner while I hung out with the younger crowd at the hotel. It started to get a little out of control…

… so I turned it into a dance party! Each kid had to get up and teach us a dance move. Then we put it all together.

I was flying out Saturday afternoon, so Easter came a little early. The littlies colored eggs, and the next day they arrived at my parents’ house to find the Easter Bunny had hidden candy-filled eggs around the yard.

How is it I didn’t take a family photo? Sigh… As I mentioned, this kind of gathering doesn’t happen very often. This is the best I can offer. My nephew Paul kept “flossing,” a dance that literally every third grader in the freakin’ world is doing these days. So we made this video.

My dad and I spent one day together while the rest of the crew took off for a gator park. I took him to a doctor’s appointment, we ran a few errands, and we ate lunch at Sweet Tomatoes (always a treat!). With our loud, rambunctious family, he often struggles get a word in, so I appreciated this quiet time to catch up.

He and I launched a project to scan old photos. It’s a tedious, time-consuming process, but it was fun to reminisce about my own childhood and hear my parents’ familiar stories about their youth. I was going to post some of my favorites, but then I spent another hour or so sorting through them, getting lost in memories. I’ll just wrap up with this pic of chubby one-year old me.

Back in Chile, my heart aches already. There’s never enough time with that gang.

On the Road

A very villages Christmas

January 7, 2016 Sharon Leave a comment

This is our 15th year living overseas and only the second time we’ve returned to the States for Christmas. Winter break is our longest vacation from school, so we usually want to take that time to check out exotic destinations, explore unfamiliar sites, engage with interesting locals and immerse ourselves in an unfamiliar culture. Well, no need to travel internationally to meet those requirements. We hit the jackpot this year at The Villages, a retirement community that bills itself as “Florida’s Friendliest Hometown.”

My parents recently joined the snowbird set, wintering at The Villages and gushing about their new lifestyle. I wondered, what is all the fuss about?

Well, now I know: fun. The fuss is about lots and lots of fun. First of all, there’s golf galore. You can play at 12 championship courses in The Villages (including ones built by Arnold Palmer and Nancy Lopez) or tee off at countless courses nearby. Not my cup of tea, but it sure keeps a smile on my dad’s face. More up my alley, every golf course has a fantastic club with a restaurant, bar and pool. Just a short golfcart ride up the hill, my parent’s neighborhood club features a fabulous pool with a big waterfall. Ah, resort living! Can’t cope with all that relaxing? There’s literally a group or a class for every imaginable interest you may have. Wood working? Archery? Languages? Check, check, check. The Villages Lifelong Learning College offers fascinating courses and lectures on every topic you can imagine. (I’m truly disappointed to miss the lecture, “Gone With the Wind: Fact versus Fiction in Historical Memory,” which is happening Jan. 14.)

Maybe you just want to meet up with some like-minded people: from your state, college alumni, sports fans, military veterans, former expats, etc. Trust me, they are here. Maybe you’d rather just hang out with your friends and listen to live music. Well, you can do that every single night in any number of venues, including the Spanish Springs village square outside our hotel. We couldn’t believe the crowds that gathered each night to drink, dance and mingle.

One of the most attractive aspects of The Villages to me was the fact that everyone is a transplant. As someone with high “belonging needs” but with no roots anywhere, I appreciate the idea that almost everyone living here came from somewhere else. Nobody is an outsider. The weather’s not too shabby, either.

Mom at one of the village squares: Sumter Landing.

Nico and Paul splash in my parents’ country club pool.

Sunset view from my parents’ backyard.

Golf carting with some cute cargo.

So, I get it. I can totally understand why my parents gush about life down here. It’s a little weird and a little surreal, but I get it.

Tony and I stayed at the Marriott Hotel, just a short golfcart ride from my parents’ neighborhood. (They played host to my sister Kate, her husband and three boys, so it was a full house.) Jetlagged, we crashed early and rose early, so it was nice to return to the quiet hotel and enjoy sunrise walks in the fresh air.

My mom whipped up a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, although Tony and I were so exhausted we could barely stay awake for it. Christmas morning, Nico and Paul excitedly opened their presents, but little Jack flat-out refused. He threw a tantrum when Kate tried to help him rip off the paper. What a goofball!

A pretty Christmas Eve table.

Happy nephews!

Jack doesn’t want to open presents … but Tony does!

A highlight of the morning was opening the presents that Nico and Paul picked out and bought with their own money. They watched with big smiles and wide eyes, waiting for our reactions. I gushed to Nico about my fantastic charm bracelet with blinking Christmas lights, and I promised Paul I would keep my earrings in the little bedazzled orange box he gave me. It’s pretty special to see kids learn the joy of giving.

Our traditional Christmas War was a bust. (See 2012’s blog post for details on how it SHOULD play out.) Only my dad had prepared. The rest of us were sitting ducks. In our defense, Tony and I went to Target to get weapons, but the only Nerf guns they had were $25 each! Arriving in the States just a few days before Christmas, we simply didn’t have time to plan a proper strategy. I don’t know what Kate’s excuse was…

Dad’s sneak attack.

Kate had ammo but no guns. What?!

For New Year’s Eve, we partied octogenarian style! Katie Belle’s, a favorite Villages venue had undergone a facelift, and this was the unveiling – sort of a “soft opening.” The place had apparently been a raucous dance club with a nice perimeter restaurant upstairs overlooking the dance floor. Rumor has it the owners were trying to cash in on the upscale clientele attending shows at the ritzy theater across the square and wanted to create a more refined dining experience, so they remodeled. It really was lovely, and the food was great (lobster and salmon for me, thank you!).

Waiting to get in…

Me, my mom and Bev

However, we had to laugh at the timing. My parents, their friend Beverly, Tony and I joined the crowd outside Katie Belle’s for the 3:30 p.m. seating. The musical act (a sort of karaoke lounge singer, who deftly impersonated singers such as Neil Diamond, Frank Sinatra and Johnny Mathis) kicked off around 5:30. At 6:19 p.m., waiters circulated to fill our champagne glasses, and the singer started a countdown. We all shouted “Happy new year!” and kissed each other as though it were midnight. That was odd enough, but then a huge group joined hands in a circle on the dance floor to sing several patriotic songs, including “God Bless America” and “Proud to be an American.” It was like some strange cult. I told my mom, “I’m afraid they’re going to sacrifice a virgin!” and she said, “Good luck finding a virgin here!” So that was different. By 7 p.m., the lights were blaring and we were ushered out the door. Perfect for a couple of jetlagged only-barely-too-young-to-live-in-the-Villages party animals like Tony and me!

Happy New Year (6 hours early)!

It’s going to be a great year! (The newspaper article referred to The Sharon, a popular venue for theatrical and musical shows, but it was a pretty good headline to kick off 2016!)

Kate’s husband, John, is a saint. He drove with his family from Michigan to Florida, stayed for just a few days, flew back to Michigan to put in a week of work, and then flew back to Florida to drive them all home! The day they left, the Dickinsons and the Dents embarked on a Country Club Crawl. I had joked earlier in the week about having a cocktail at every club in The Villages before leaving Florida. Instead, my dad planned out an abbreviated route that took us to five country clubs. We popped in to each one, had a quick drink on the veranda, and sped off to the next one. My dad, Tony and I split beers or otherwise cheated to stay relatively sober, but my mom discovered the Malibu Bay Breeze and got one at every stop. She may have been a bit sloshed by the time we met their friends Jim and Nancy for dinner (and our last club cocktail).

Stop 1: Evans Prairie

Stop 2: Palmer Legends

Stop 3: Glenview

Stop 4: Hacienda Hills

Stop 5: Nancy Lopez
(We couldn’t remember if this was stop 4 or 5…)

During our two weeks at The Villages, we spent a lot of time eating and chatting, two of my favorite things, but we managed to fit it a few outings.

Mount Dora is a funky small town with oak-lined streets, antique shops and sidewalk cafes with intriguing names such as The Goblin Market and Pisces Rising. After a little rest at the historic Lakeside Inn, we walked to the edge of Lake Dora to board a pontoon boat for a 2-hour eco-tour with Premier Boat Tours.

Mom posing with some residents of the Lakeside Inn lobby.

Dad waiting to board the boat.

We zipped across the lake while listening to a recording about the area’s history and then slowed down for a cruise through the twisting passages of Dora Canal. Parts of the canal were residential; lucky homeowners sit on their back porches to enjoy the wildlife and tranquility among the towering cypress trees draped with Spanish moss (which we learned is neither Spanish nor moss, but rather a relative of the pineapple – crazy!).

However, backyards can be dangerous places. This alligator was sunning herself among some Christmas yard art, while her babies hung out at the nest across the canal.

Our captains shrewdly spotted and identified gators, turtles and all sorts of birds, including my favorite, the anhinga, a ubiquitous canal dweller frequently seen with its wings outstretched on the banks or in a tree. The captains explained that the anhinga dives into the water and swims to catch fish, but it doesn’t have oily feathers like ducks. If it stays underwater too long, it will get waterlogged and drown. After awhile, it has to find a safe spot to stretch out and fan its wings in the breeze until dry enough to resume hunting.

Here’s one drying out on someone’s boat.

On another day, we checked out the Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park. From the visitor center, we took a boat ride through cypress-lined canals to the park. There, we encountered all sorts of indigenous species, from birds to foxes.

According to the Florida State Parks website:

Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State park has been a tourist attraction since the early 1900s, when trains stopped to let passengers off to walk the short trail to the first-magnitude spring. The tracks ran alongside what is now Fishbowl Drive. While passengers enjoyed a view of Homosassa Spring and its myriad of fresh and saltwater fish, the train’s crew were busy loading their freight of fish, crabs, cedar and spring water aboard the Mullet Train.
The 50-acre site and surrounding 100 acres was purchased in the 1940s and was operated as a small attraction. In 1964, the Norris Development Company bought the property and expanded it as Homosassa Springs “Nature’s Own Attraction,” with an emphasis on entertainment and with a variety of exotic animals and some native species. Ivan Tors Animal Actors housed their trained animals at Homosassa Springs Attraction for several years. These animals were trained for television shows and movies. When they were not performing they were kept at Homosassa Springs. One of the most popular of these animals was Buck who was stand-in for Gentle Ben in the famous television series. Lu, a hippopotamus, was one of the Ivan Tors animals and still resides at the park after being declared an honorary citizen of the State of Florida by then Governor Lawton Chiles. Norris owned the attraction until 1978.
From 1978 until 1984, the land went through several changes in ownership. The Citrus County Commission purchased the attraction to protect it as an environmentally sensitive area until the State of Florida could purchase the property as a Florida State Park. Modern thinking about captive wildlife has influenced how the park is now managed. Both visitor safety and animal welfare are of utmost importance at Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park.

Lu, the hippo referenced above, lives in a tank at the entrance to the park and twice put on a nasty show of projectile pooping, which attracted even nastier vultures looking for a snack. Fortunately, the park warns you to stand clear.

Speaking of poop … we encountered quite a bit during another outing to Uncle Donald’s Farm, a somewhat ghetto petting zoo/working farm not far from my parent’s neighborhood. The boys fed chickens, petted a sheep and rabbits, cuddled (and got scratched by) some farm cats, milked a goat, took a hayride (complete with sloppy cow kisses), ran through a hay maze, and climbed on old farm equipment. It was pricey and not the most polished operation, but the kids had a blast.

Oh, and of course, we went to Star Wars 3-D!

Every family gathering has its share of drama, and we were no different. Still, I felt grateful for every minute with this nutty crew. I only wish the rest of the gang could have been there.

So long, America. See you in June!

The Guide Hog

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