Starting Over

In writing and in life, I am ready for what’s next. Our Michigan house is shiny clean and ready to be sold. Since leaving Florida, we have been non-stop cleaning, inside and out. We have hired a realtor and an estate sale team because…we are not taking much. I am taking about 100 of my thousand or so books, some art, family photos, and my granny’s hope chest. Also everything to do with the WIP. I have what may well be my last writers’ meeting (in Michigan) tomorrow. I have ideas for the book, so I have a fresh writing pad and of course all my electronics go wherever I do.

We have our Florida condo, and it’s small, but we love almost everything about it. So we have a place to land once we sell this place. We’re hoping for a final summer in Michigan, and I’m hoping most of it will be in Traverse City. I’d also like to visit Seattle before we head down to Florida, because hugs are officially okay again. I did see my grandson Ben and yes I hugged him! But we have not seen our Seattle family except on FaceTime in 19 months! Our community here in Michigan had the first summer gazebo party this week, maybe 20 people, no masks, and I hugged with abandon! I caught up with a neighbor here who has a place right where we want to be in Florida!!! I knew that, but I forgot.

Covid turned the lights off, but they’re back on and I’m feeling so much better. Some weird things were going on inside me at the end of the lockdown, like I didn’t want to engage on social media. I’ve never been one for phone calls, and am amazed when friends will say they talk to their mom every day at least once on the phone. Or they call their kids every day. I am always worried that I’ll be interrupting somebody. Especially my sons because when I was their age with kids, work, spouse, and friends, my time was planned down to the minute. I lost a few people who might have become friends because I had to cut conversations short. It was dinner time, I was late for class, or writing. And I thought, you know what, if they don’t understand, we shouldn’t be friends anyway.

I have not been blogging as much as I used to…I believe I’ve said it all before. But this next chapter is new, so maybe I’ll soon have fresh gossip or news or both. Getting together with friends again feels like a warm bath after being caught out in the snow. During Covid, all I did was read and write. And shop on Amazon. I want a few things, for example all my tech is old. I’m trying to wait until the computer industry finds a way to banish the foreign hackers. Not that I’m keeping any state secrets, just moving on, literally.

The Last Time

We’ve been home in Michigan from Florida for a week now and have cleaned and decluttered and put things away. Still deciding on what art to keep…the Frida Kahlo canvas print in the photo above is for sure a keeper and so is the hope chest it’s resting on. Of my books, about 2/3 of my library will be culled. We have already donated a huge load of clothing, jewelry, one framed print and other random things from my massive closet cleaning yesterday. I have been ignoring (and missing!) social media mostly but yesterday I did try to make a Canva twitter post about Jane in St Pete to pin to the top of my page. It turned out okay, but somehow I was not able to add an Amazon link or a link to the full review I quoted. And I see, looking at my email, that I signed up for a year of “premium” Canva, perhaps hoping it would help with that. Think I did it for the free month. I’m not sure it makes a difference, but I’ll try one more Canva post before I cancel the paid premium. I might keep it, if it helps me add those links.

The other thing I’m missing is writing, specifically writing the next Jane book. I stopped at a good place, but I want to devote myself to it, and I just can’t right now. The best I can do is write three pages in my journal every morning and I do love that; it keeps the writer in me just short of starving. And I decided to treat myself to a day of reading posts from my favorite bloggers and writing this post to catch you up on what I’m doing. This helps feed my writing self as well.

Feel I deserve a treat after a solid week of working hard to clean and organize the house after more than four months away. And there’s another reason I’m doing an especially deep clean. We’re seeing a realtor this coming week, and I hope we settle on a date to make this house sale official. We’ve lived here eight years. When we bought it I felt as though I was dreaming. I never thought we’d leave our home of 25+ years. I never thought to have such a lovely home. And brand new, too. But my husband had a plan and he followed through in ways I wasn’t even counting on. Al is very smart about the housing market. All the financial markets, really. Economics in general, he’s a savvy guy.

We’ve been visiting Florida every spring break for twenty years. Somewhere along the line, we agreed we’d like to retire there. Along with the other one thousand baby boomers per day who had the same idea. We didn’t think a whole lot about it until my dad moved and we scooped up his place. We’d stayed there often enough. Also with friends who either had made the move or rented for the winter months. Aside from hotel rooms, we never did the rental in Florida, jumping instead straight into buying. Also, yes, my dad now has a lanai, a laundry room and a garage of his own 🙂 Nice upgrade and only ten minutes from us.

So after the sale, we’ll land in our little Florida place for now, but we’ll be shopping for something with a few more of the amenities I miss when we’re there. Like, a laundry room. I solved that problem by taking my clothes to the cleaner, who do a wash/dry/fold service. Al used our shared laundry room for towels, rugs, sheets, and his stuff. So it was affordable, to hire out just my things, although I do a better job. And I’d rather do it myself. I finally got all the laundry we brought home finished, some to be donated and some just because there was a pile of it!

I skipped the cleaners the last week in Florida because I missed my washer/dryer and wanted to use it! Also love having a dishwasher again. And the outdoor deck. And the fact that this ride home from Florida is the last time we’ll have to do that. It’s as warm as Florida today here in Michigan, but the weather people are calling for rain the rest of the week. That’s okay, because I have the one room I missed the most: my writing room, where I’m sitting typing to you right now. I hope it’s sunny and warm where you are, too.

Writing on the Run

This is just one of the many positions I found my new writing desk in as we tried to figure out where we could put it while the kids were here. They’re coming tonight! I’m excited! When we bought the desk, we didn’t expect anyone would come down this year because of Covid. But everybody got shots in arms quicker than we knew and they are not afraid to fly! (I will wait to fly myself until full bar service is restored.) My six year old grandson is bringing his parents and we have a fold out twin bed for him plus the queen-sized bed. The room is small and it just fits those beds, a night table and a suitcase stand. There’s a corner television.

We’re leaving for Michigan soon after they leave, so I had already packed my current work in progress and other files until we’re back in Michigan. We just needed to move the desk from the guest room as it was in the only spot I could fold out my grandson’s bed. So first we tried to put it in our bedroom. But it was a little too long for the wall. I knew at least one of us would run into the sticking out sharp corner in the middle of the night. So Al positioned it like this until we could move a few things around in the living room. We decided it would stay in the living room, because it’s really heavy, and also I really loved that desk because of the large work surface.

Loved, past tense. Al had moved it within a few feet of the space I’d cleared for the now empty desk. My grandson could do his drawing there! I had all the supplies he needed: art paper, markers, stickers…then one of the sides cracked. It was a pretty sturdy desk, especially the expansive wood top. Had a nice subtle curve to it. It would have looked nice. But the sides weren’t super strong. Al could have fixed it but we had ten million things to do before the kids came in and also he just didn’t feel like it. We’d bought it for $100 at our favorite consignment shop, so it was not a great loss. It was one of those pieces of furniture you can break down pretty easily and that’s what he did.

I moved Ben’s art supplies to the coffee table:) But we probably won’t be home much. He can’t wait to go to the beach. And also the dinosaur park in Plant City, where they have over a hundred life-sized and realistically painted dinosaurs, which are his favorite. I’m so excited for my family to be here and then when they leave I can’t wait to get home to Michigan, where I can bring out my book-in-process again. It still needs a lot of work.

We have another big project waiting for us back in Michigan, so I’m not sure how many pages I’ll stack upon the hundred or so already finished. Although I do have an intact desk in Michigan, in fact, a very nice writing room I really love, there. If I could bring it to Florida, I would.

Ricki and Me

All the early influences on my writing were musicians. Singer/songwriters. I wanted to be one but I didn’t have the voice. I wrote bad poetry, I played guitar, I could sing a tiny bit, but I knew I didn’t have that magic. So I wrote other things and listened to the great music of the 50s, 60s and beyond. We all felt lucky that these bands came up with us. Their lyrics inspired me. Being from Detroit, I loved Motown as well as Janis Joplin and Led Zeppelin. I loved the folkies and the country rockers. I listened to Dylan like he was a prophet, which of course, in his own way, he is.

“Last Chance Texaco” is my favorite Ricki Lee Jones song, although you might only know “Chuck E’s in Love” which was a monster hit for her in the early 80s. I never pre-order books but I did hers (titled “Last Chance Texaco”) because I adore her music and also years after her boyfriend was Tom Waits, who wrote his own memoir a few years ago and all he said about Ricki and their breakup was “She scared me.” I think he didn’t like she was a bigger star than he was, but whatever. She doesn’t say that, but she has a lot to say about her love affair with Tom. She was so in love and it took her so long to get over him. Now I get the bigger picture of that story, from both sides. I admire Waits as a musician but writing her off in one line of his book was such a guy thing to do.

I love rock memoirs, but I had started to notice that male rockers were much more numerous when it came to writing their stories. Must be because for every female singer/songwriter there are many many male rock gods. I decided I wouldn’t read any more male musician memoirs (unless Dylan ever writes “Chronicles Part Two”). Why? I can’t relate. I hate how they almost all brag about groupies and we all know many of these girls are underage. I used to love Graham Nash, his singing and songwriting, but at the end of his book, he says he tells his new wife, the love of his life, she’s just going to have to put up with him and his groupies and what they do together. They are part of the road, he says. No wonder Paul put Linda in his band.

Women songwriters tend to write better memoirs than the men with their predictable trajectories. I have read a few great male rock stories, like when I was desperate for a new book and I read David Grohl’s. I was so glad I did. I hated him for getting a band together, being lead singer, and playing guitar. Seems like he just wanted to take Kurt’s place. But I found out he didn’t. He had the same feeling about it all at first as I did. He knew the fans would. Many told him he’d never be Kurt. But his story was really good and he was a musician before he ever knew Kurt and had been in all the teenage boy bands that the artists cut their teeth on. He already played guitar. He’d already been a lead singer. And music was in his blood. I ended up not hating him anymore and really appreciating him, if not his music.

But Ricki Lee did more than tell a great story. She set something loose in me, something I’ve carried around way too long. We’re the same age and went through very similar childhoods and teenage years. Her parents were always breaking up and getting back together. Her mother kicked her out of the house at age 14. (I was 15 when my mom did the same). She lived rough and was often hungry, just like me. Both of us hitchhiked as a way to be somewhere different and maybe find a good meal at the end of the ride. Neither of us could legally drive or get a job. We both continually, when things got really bad, called our moms. Who inevitably sent the plane ticket. She wasn’t writing songs yet but she was singing and gathering material. I wasn’t writing stories yet, but I did have a notebook of (bad) poetry that I left in Key West.

To this day (and I’m 66) I feel it’s a miracle I survived those years unhurt. And I’ve never known anyone who existed like I did, sleeping on couches and in cars with my little bundle of clothes. Scared, cold, hungry. I had some lucky times, when a friend’s mom would let me stay for a few weeks or months. That’s really where Ricki’s story and mine diverge. But it freed me in a way. I was NOT such a freak after all. My parents were NOT the only couple who kept doing the break up/get back together dance. And while Ricki Lee went on to singer/songwriter fame and fortune, I became a not-famous fiction writer.

Also, Bob Dylan told Ricki Lee her album “Pirates” (with the Tom Waits break up song “Lucky Guy”) is real poetry. Bob Dylan! Her lyrics are that good and her voice is sublime. If you want to hear Ricki Lee, she’s on You Tube playing the guitar in her living room in New Orleans, kind of a cool marketing thing for the book. I’m not doing much marketing for my most recent book, Jane in St Pete. I had a whole thing planned but Covid kinda ruined it. But I just thought of something! I can leave you a link; there it is.

After the Break

I took a little Spring Break from blogging and it has served me well. I managed a lot more pages on my manuscript and that was the idea. Or in part anyway. I also feel like after 19 years blogging, daily then weekly, I needed to reassess its usefulness. I come back to blogging determined to continue the Retirement Diaries category despite my husband hating all social media and not wanting me to write about him. He did not mention photos, however. So enough about him! I’ll continue to write about writing too. 100 pages into my manuscript. Thanks, Covid. Writing up a Storm. Vaccinated, too. Maybe soon I’ll get back to behaving as normal again? I miss my family and friends face-to-face. Miss everyone, but especially my grandkids, who are still at the age where they think grandparents are cool.

I’ll catch you up on my writing next time, but today, I have a (sort of) (for now) health triumph. When my innards took a slow turn downward, it was difficult to write about, because as one editor, when rejecting her manuscript, said to Tessa Miller, author of What Doesn’t Kill You, “poop stories don’t sell.” I picked up Miller’s medical memoir because I also have the same digestive health challenges and wondered if she had any tips for living easier with what ails me. Miller has Crohn’s disease, which is the most horrible of the chronic poop diseases. At least I came away with that…there may be worse. Wait. I know there’s worse. She mentions them.

I’m feeling grateful that once again, I have found a pill and diet that seems to work. Meaning, I go to the bathroom like a regular person. For too long, I was very hung up on diets, hoping to cure myself if I just avoided dairy/sugar/wheat/grapes/broccoli. I don’t think that anymore. Much more important, which I knew but conveniently forgot for awhile, was to eat smaller meals. Easier on the digestion. There was not a whole lot of “don’t eat this food ever” in Miller’s book, or much mention of food at all, such a nice relief from the heavy focus I’ve had on food since all this started about eight years ago.

For eight years I was convinced that the right diet would make me right again. I tried “mostly plants” aka vegan, that didn’t help at all. Before that was vegetarianism, which I practiced for years, but also did not stop the progress of whatever disease I have. My doc is treating it as IBSD, but I need more testing once I’m back in Michigan. Another diet my doctor suggested was the Mediterranean diet; it didn’t help the core problem either. I did the “Starch Solution” which people swore by, although I think it was more about losing weight while eating potatoes. Yet all these diet did make health claims that just weren’t true for me.

Another thing Miller said was that it takes a long time to diagnose gut disease. I still don’t have a solid label for whatever has been plaguing me. First it was “lactose intolerance” but the meds for that stopped working after a few months. Finally, wheat was the last thing I had not given up. Wheat. It is in everything. Also, I love toast! As my new pill says, most people will not be able to stick with a diet that cuts wheat. Here’s where I’ve been for six months or so now: no sugar, no starchy vegetables, no raw vegetables, only berries and bananas for fruit, no dairy, no wheat, no processed foods. And yes, that’s hard to stick to. When I ate any of those foods, or gave myself a day to eat what I wanted: ice cream, chips, cookies, flourless chocolate cake and white wine, for example, I lost all control of more than my diet.

Wine doesn’t seem to adversely affect my bowels, for which I am grateful. Although I note that when I have wine, I don’t sleep well. Yes, getting old is quite the ride. It takes a long time to learn things and as I age, my body creates new problems to deal with. I’d say that’s true for most of us. As I take this new medicine as directed (a generic of IBGard and also a good probiotic) I have been doing well. It’s a challenge to take two pills thirty minutes before each meal, but I’m managing with the help of a food journal. If I eat dairy, I still take Lactaid, too.

Oh and age is not always to blame! Miller started having problems in her early 20s. But she has Crohn’s and that’s similar but different from my food sensitivities, many of which I do think happen as we get older, especially lactose intolerance. Her book is for everyone who has struggled with gut health. She’s so young and knows so much. While me, I’m a slow learner.