Category Archives: Moving 101

Best thing about Florida: Carl Hiaasen

Book club in Miami

Carl Hiaasen writes for the Miami Herald…

which is funny, because the newspaper is funny. Funny in a sensational, superfluous way.  Some call it “Newspaper lite.” Gertrude Stein might have described it as ‘A no there there newspaper.’  Hence, a large proportion of Floridians  (who rolled down the hill from New York) subscribe to the New York Times for real news and they read Carl to be entertained.

Hiaasen also writes books. Really great books.

The Bonus: Florida has Carl Hiaasen.

On the Right coast, Carl Hiaasen is legendary. He is revered nation-wide – but, in Florida he is holy grail guy.  Witty, urbane, irreverent and the author of a couple dozen best selling books.   Truth be told – The Bad Monkey Book Club – a homage to CH reports that he is so compelling- so famous – women straight out of an ‘I Love Lucy’ episode,  scour Florida hoping to find him, his home – just to spend a little time with him.

‘Skinny Dip’ takes on a whole new meaning with him.  He is a rock star – loved by millions.

When Carl Hiaasen speaks, people listen. The native son of Florida is well aware of the myriad oddities, the bizarre behavior and rampant corruption. And so he writes thinly veiled, clever as hell, fiction  about the sins of the sunshine State.

“I think in the old days, the nexus of weirdness ran through Southern California, and to a degree New York City. I think it’s changed so that every bizarre story in the country now has a Florida connection.

I don’t know why, except it must be some inversion of magnetic poles or something.”   Carl Hiaasen

If you have to drive anywhere – a Hiaasen book-on-tape will make your journey laugh-out-loud-more-fun. Welcome to Florida.

 

www.carlhiaasen.com

See Here: Carl Hiaasen Books

I Love Lucy en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_I_Love_Lucy_episodes

Why I left Myammy…

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The Dress Code in Florida – less is best?

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The Florida Dress Code – Va-va- voom!

IF you visit to Florida and turn on the Morning News don’t be shocked by the plethora of female newscasters sporting “the uniform”: tight, sleeveless, low-cut, cocktail dresses.

Morning news in Florida is Party Time: big hair, lip gloss, low-cut cocktail dresses at o’dark-thirty. Really?  Maybe it’s me, there’s something about veracity and news delivery and a woman dressed for cocktails at 6:00 AM.

 Turn on the Today Show, CBS Morning News, any major TV market and see their line up of professional female newscasters all covered up. Think: sleeves. Discreet. Business Attire.

Welcome to South Florida, Binkie.

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Moving out of state and together? At 50?

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Open Up Your Golden Gate….

To move in or not to move in: that was the question

Sherry (admits to “over 50”) and Claude (62) met online. They exchanged four e-mails, enjoyed two lengthy phone calls, and on the first date, both were very carefully falling in love.

They both like opera, Mountain Winery concerts, old San Francisco, traveling to Santa Fe for the opera, Carmel-by-the-Sea, Wine Tasting events, and visiting National Parks.  She likes fiction. He likes nonfiction.  He loves butter, cream, and eggs.  She’s more of an advocate for quinoa, vegetables, and exploring the aisles of Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods. He cooks – she prefers dining out.

They were around same age, had been through painful divorces, had launched their kids, were finishing up careers and both were seriously thinking about retirement. He has a condo in San Francisco on Nob Hill, a doorman, spectacular views of both bridges; rarely drives – walks everywhere, and knows San Francisco like the back of his hand. His office is one of the top floors of the towering Bank of America on California Street.

She lives in a tiny cottage in Redwood City- with a charming garden, a hot tub – there is no lawn to mow, no big home to maintain, just sunny weather, parking galore, and she has privacy, solitude, and a huge deck for entertaining –which she does with great frequency. She belongs to a book club, a Pilate’s class, and volunteers at film festivals and the Museum – he says she has ‘a Rolodex full of girlfriends.’

She works from home for three very delightful and demanding clients in Atherton.

A Moving Experience:  On their one-year anniversary, they drove north on Highway 101 to the Victorian village of Ferndale and explored the area and the beautiful redwood parks.  Over crab cocktails at VI Restaurant he suggested she move into his spacious condo in San Francisco.  He had a second bedroom that could easily be made into her office or study.  He listed the many positive aspects of living in San Francisco – such an exciting location and – more importantly- of living together. She was thinking of the whipping winds and fog rolling in, parking challenges, the din of the neighborhood, the claustrophobic feeling of being so close to your neighbors, no garden…her mental list of “cons” grew incrementally. She was very happy with their arrangement. They were together all weekend and one or two nights a week. Two of her 50-ish friends had ‘living situations’ with beaus – they kept separate residences and saw one another frequently. The couples said they embraced their privacy and alone time and claimed they were very happy with the arrangements. She pondered.

Moving in together and moving away?  Then his boss offered him a position in Miami, Florida as VP of his department.  The assignment would be for 18 months with the caveat that he would return to San Francisco six times a year for meetings. The offer was a promotion with great benefits – and would most likely be his last position with the company. Thrilled at the prospect, he called and invited her to join him on this new adventure. She had been to Florida several times and liked the beaches, Art Deco architecture and Cuban Food, As she started thinking about the humidity, the traffic, the density, the severe summer weather, and the distance from her family and her friends her mood changed. Her best friend said, “Go for it! It’s only for a year or so and you’ll come back here every few months. Just do it. Candace, her neighbor – an Eileen Fisher model, 65, tango dancer with a shock of silver hair said, “Men? I go dancing once a week.  I just want to be in the arms of a man for one hour –and then go home to my cats and I’m happy.”  Another cat woman?

She was dizzy with input from her myriad friends and her love for this man – who was kind, thoughtful and more spiritual than anyone she had ever met.

 Things fall into place Her best friend from Albuquerque took an artist in residence gig at the Oakland Museum and needed a place to stay – voila: the perfect house sitter. 

She told her clients of her plans. She heard a lot of “Oh! no! What will we do?” comments punctuated with hugs and “Please don’t go.” requests.  She had a best friends meeting and they balked at the news… They asked if she wasn’t  little too quick to make a decision of this  importance. Her “Besties” were friends for decades who knew Mr Right and had googled him diligently. They urged her to slow down…not to throw the baby out with the bathwater and go to FLorida to visit – not live. A Bi-coastal relationship would be the perfect test.

Testing 1,2,3,

After one exhausting visit to Miami and the environs – the traffic, the heat, the miles and miles of strip malls, the infamous Seniors – worst drivers in the state and alarming stories about alligators and high rate of crime was enough to have her go for the BiCoastal Route

She would remain in California and he would fly home every couple of weeks.

Time would test the strength of their relationship.

 

 

 

Want to really test a relationship? Move in together

First: Have a Garage Sale!

Possibly the Most stressful, exhausting, taxing, demanding, unfulfilling event in a lifetime….

Organizing, planning, purging, pricing, promoting, staging, signage, paperwork, selling, smiling, haggling…for hours and hours.

 

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…One man’s treasure is another man’s Junk…Dopey, really?

If you can ‘get along’ and work together for the common good and still speak to one another after eight hours of looky-loo’s, weirdos, and harassing hagglers….

And, if you can sell a ton of duplicates (you have two blenders, two irons, ice buckets, dozens of wine glasses, bowls, plates, baseball hats…)           and the myriad “Won’t Need Its ” for the new house’ items – Bravo!

More power to you…crack open a bottle of really good wine – you deserve it…Have pizza – really good pizza – delivered.

Put your feet up. You Survived.

Put Dopey near the recycling bin…

 

Is Harold really God’s gift to women?

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Whether it is bluff or bravado, Bachelor (again) and bon vivant, Harold H. quickly dismisses his three divorces, and announces he’s looking for a  woman who understands him.  

He is the kind a man  who measures success by the size of a wallet and bank account. Both of his are substantial. What he is lacking are social graces, compassion, and sensitivity. Some have compared him to the proverbial bull in a China shop. He is simply clueless as to the number people he alienates with his brash bragging.

Mind you, there are plenty of women who are attracted to him and his wealth  like a fly to honey. Harold H. will tell you, quite frankly, he’s looking for a “type.” He only dates tall,  blondes, generally 20 years his junior. His first three wives were petite, Mediterranean, homemaker types.

He thought he had a gold mine when he met Trixie- she was from Texas, was bold and brassy and seem to find old Harold H attractive. She loved to go to expensive restaurants, she knew how to feign interest to a man who was wining and dining her- especially when there was a potential for gifts in little blue boxes.

Trixie could drink most men under the table (years of practice) and she had a “frisky” side the Harold H found very attractive. Each week, he surprised Trixie with a piece of jewelry. He knew for a fact that most women faint over gifts from the jewelry store. His relationship with Trixie buoyed his confidence. People stopped and stared when they walked down the street or walked into restaurants. He liked that.

What Harold H never expected was that Trixie’s old boyfriend would reappear and she would drop him like a hot potato.

Trixie called him to say was going to return her jewelry drawer full of trinkets from Harold H- he said, “Hey, babe, fuhgeddaboudit!” He closed the Trixie chapter and was back on the Union Street prowl that night. 

Next!

 

 

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Present

Breaking News: Floods of “Liberals” slip into Canada

The following News Story was updated and improved.

No plagiarism involved. Well, maybe a bit, eh? 

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Breaking News: Hordes of “US Liberals” slipping into Canada!

News Update from Canada, eh?

 Floods of Trump-fearing/GOP TAX Bill loathing  American Liberals are disgusted  with recent events. Their rage is prompting an exodus of Americans who fear they’ll soon be penniless, be required to buy a gun, build a fence, read the president-elect books, and live according to the “new” updated My Way or the Highway Constitution.

Canadian Border residents say it’s not uncommon to see dozens of Singles, Families, Sociology professors, Medicare loving/Social Security fans and Global-Warming Believers, and “Green” energy proponents crossing their fields at night.

“I went out to milk the cows the other day, and there was a Hollywood producer and his entire family huddled in the barn,” said Quebec farmer, Rouge Greenfield. “They were cold, exhausted and hungry, and begged me for a croissant and some French Fries. When I said I didn’t have any, they left before I even got a chance to show him my screenplay, eh?”

Something fishy? In an effort to stop the so-called illegal aliens, Greenfield erected higher fences, but the limber Democratic Liberals nibly scaled them. He then installed loudspeakers that blared Sara Palin and Kevin Bannon across the fields, but they just sang, “If I had a Hammer” and kept coming.

Officials are particularly concerned about savvy Canadian smugglers who meet The Liberals  just south of the border, pack them into electric cars, and drive them across the border; where the batteries die and they are are ditched and left to fend for themselves, “These people are not prepared for our rugged conditions,” an Alberta border patrolman said.  “I found one bereft carload without a single bottle of Perrier water or quinoa.  All they had was a nice little Napa Valley Pinot and some stale kale chips. When they are caught, they’re sent back across the border, often wailing that they fear taunting and persecution from Terrible Trump Trumpets and Pensive Pence Patrol.

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Whatta Zoo!

Numerous Canadian citizens have complained that these ” Democrats aka illegal immigrants” are creating an epic organic-broccoli shortage, are buying up all the Leonard Cohen CD’s and are overloading the Canadian Internet while downloading yoga and meditation apps to their iPhones. “

Rumors are circulating about plans using the many old, failed, Trump properties as re-education camps where Liberals will be forced to watch “The Apprentice,” buy a gun, patrol the  walls, deal with a flood of ‘bizarro world’ new – laws.

Threats of Hair-comb overs, mandatory orange hair dye jobs and tanning salons mandates are all over Twitter.

However, in recent days, Liberals have turned to ingenious ways of crossing the border. Faux SightseeingBus Tours – seeking new homes with entire households being shipped in weeks to come.

Some clever escapees have been disguised as Senior citizens taking a bus trip to buy cheap Canadian prescription drugs. Not a new event. Post the phony Pharma act, scores of Americans seek housing in Canada.

After catching dozens young vegans in blue-hair wig disguises, smart Canadian immigration authorities began stopping buses and quizzing the supposed “Senior citizens” about Captain Kangaroo, Perry Mason, Chubby Checker to prove that they were alive in the ’50s. “If they can’t identify the secretary on the Perry Mason Show, we become very suspicious about their age,” an official said.

“Oh! Canada” said, “I really feel sorry for American Liberals who are escaping Trump World , but the Canadian economy just can’t support them.” “After all, how many English majors does one country need?”

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Zoo