Eating, Drinking and Merry Making

Four and a half years ago we moved to Florida. I was nervous about how we’d make friends. After all, we were old. No kids to pave the way to other parents. And we were NOT willing to adopt, thank you very much.

We moved, and I hoped a friend or two would turn up. YAY! Friendships abounded. But be careful what you wish for.
We got so many fun friends I am exhausted. And at risk of becoming fat.

Parties galore! Game night and we stayed up until midnight. Cookie exchange and I nibbled through a dozen Gluten Free delights. Christmas party at the neighbors. Lots of laughs and way too late into the night for decrepit me.

And there was the holiday housewalk in St. Pete. Wandered well over 10,000 steps all through the Historic Old Northeast with great friends–also transplants from Barrington, IL.

Wait wait…don’t tell me. There’s more.

I just unfolded my tired body and crept gingerly to our orange day-runner book. I think my joints cracked. I’m deaf so didn’t hear them popping. But I bet they did.

Calendar revealed the Bunco Christmas exchange. As well as another Christmas gift swap with nearly fifty women. Yes! Fifty warm bodies. Remember, I didn’t know ANYONE five years ago. Now I’m going to festivities for the masses. (Fifty is massive to me)

Yet to come? Another game night with surf and turf on the menu. Plus caroling with the neighbors, a Christmas Eve party and Christmas day festivities.  And a New Year’s Eve cruise with party animals.

A plethora of delights. A bounty of buddies.

Jim and I have lots to be thankful for each and every day. When he and Bronson finally crawl out of the feathers, I’ll remind them how lucky we are. (Those two do retirement well)

As for me? Maybe it’s time for a nap.  Just recounting all the merrymaking wore me out.

I’ll go lie down on the sofa and say my gratitude prayers.  With luck, I’ll snooze.  Life is very good indeed.

Holiday Gifting

I drank oceans of coffee to create my holiday Bunko gift. I was jittery for weeks. But it was worth it! My goal? To have my gift swiped. Yes, I’m oddly pathetic. But I was happy that my Keurig Cup napkin rings were a hit.

20171109_102423.jpg

20171109_102500.jpg

Now, on to the next gift exchange party.  I made an ornament. Jim, when viewing it, said, “How nice we don’t have a tree for that monstrosity.”

So I dropped back and punted. The “monstrosity” will be a decoration tied onto the ribbon. The actual gift? Fun and an enormous secret. Need to sort out a way of wrapping that doesn’t call attention. I want to slide it under the tree incognito.

 

Carmelized Bacon!

Bacon. Sugar. Pecans. Maple Syrup. Add a few spices, bake at 375 degrees for thirty minutes. Cool. Eat.  Watch ass expand.

Christmas is coming; this goose is getting fat.

20171207_123540

My appetizer for tonight’s Bunko Christmas gift exchange. Note to self:  Wear elastic waist pants.

Dreaming. Moving. Winning.

6 a.m. I just woke from a house-hunting dream. I was trying to sway my two kids to fall in love with small town living.
In the dream, I attempted to convince my kiddos to adore a little old 1930’s bungalow. It was crooked and bent and altogether perfect. They wanted straight and even and, in my mind, vanilla.

I woke before I hammered my two squareish pegs, into round holes. (which in itself is odd–neither kid is a square peg.)

My dad used to use a terrific expression. “They’re all yours until you buy one.” I like the inherent hope in those words. The world is our oyster. It’s all ours--even after we buy one. We can let this one go and move on to the next.

Here is my wee small hours “AH HA” moment. We may or may not move again. In my mind, we will. St. Petersburg. A condo.

But (remember, everything after the but is the truth) living here, in our not what we thought we wanted house, is smashing.

I hosted Bunco–aka Drunko–two nights ago. November and all twelve ladies were seated outside by the cement pond. Rolling dice, gabbing, chomping Chex Mix. Perfect weather, lots of laughs. I worked hard at manifesting wins. (It worked. I prevailed! Fifty-five big ones.)

St. Pete may be in our future. Or not. Either way, it’s all good.

Now time to crawl back into the feathers. Maybe I’ll find out if my kids will move to that bungalow with me.  Come to think of it, I had that already.  A 1926 Sears home in the village of Barrington.  I loved that house.  And the next one and the one after that.  Change is fun.

Somewhat related blog posts:

Moving. You can’t always get what you want. But we got what we needed.

Our Impulsive Move to Florida