To foster life-long learning and active music making….promoting the understanding and making of music by all.  If you ask any music teacher what the ultimate goal is for their students, I think it would look something similar to these mission statements.  Oh, maybe not in such flowery language, but our hope is that students will make music a part of their lives in some way, whether they grow up to support the arts with their attendance, through their service or philanthropy, or decide to continue music making themselves by participating in a community or worship ensemble or playing in a cover band.  Something as organic as music should just be a part of who we are for our lifetimes.

As a teacher of elementary students, many times there’s this hope that what I’ve taught them has made some kind of an impact, but it’s really hard to know.  But every once in a while, something happens that reinforces the reason I do what I do, despite that “not knowing” and today was one of those times.  As I was working on my computer this afternoon, a message popped up from a Facebook friend.  But not just any Facebook friend, this was a former student, a young woman I had taught during her late elementary/early middle schools years in a K-8 school.  And she had a question for me.  Still referring to me as “Mrs. Bush” 20 years after I left that school, her first sentence was “I’m facing my first audition for a choir…and thought you would be the best person to ask for advice on an audition song.”  She’s trying out for a choir!  How cool!  I remember her having a beautiful voice as she sang in my choir and in our musicals.  So, I referred her to some art song collections I thought would help, wishing we lived closer so I could just let her borrow some of mine.

The conversation continued for a little bit longer, but what brought me to tears was her last sentence.  “In need of more music in my life.”  What an awareness.  We ALL need more music in our lives because we are musical beings.  For so many of us, being without music is like being without food or water – it feeds our souls.  And while I won’t take all the credit for her love of music, it does my heart good that perhaps I planted a little seed there.  Music is not a talent that some people have, it is literally a part of everyone and is something that can enhanced and improved through education.  The seed is already there, the teacher is there to hopefully bring the sunshine and water that that seed needs to grow.

As I get mentally prepared to begin meetings for school next week, this is a good reminder of why I do this.  As I work with my student teacher this fall, I need to remind her that in the course of her teaching young students, planting the seed is enough.  And unlike high schools teachers who often see their students go off to become musicians themselves, we have to know that perhaps what we do in the elementary general music classroom may encourage that student to voluntarily join other music ensembles or classes throughout their school careers.

So, just a little encouragement to all of my fellow music teachers as we begin another school year.  You are enough.  The seeds you plant are enough.  Our job is to teach students to use what they already have inside of them so that one day, in the busy-ness of life and working and raising a family,  former students may realize, I need more music in my life.

 

Can we talk?  Seriously, are emotions a pain in the behind or what?!?  It’s amazing that something most people dismiss as just “feelings” can be so powerful, powerful enough to lift a person into the stratosphere or dump them into the deepest cave.  We tell people that they’re “too emotional” or “not emotional enough” based on how they react to  circumstances around them.  How I react to something and how someone else reacts can be completely different, based on the whole nature/nurture thing.  I just wish I could figure out how to not let emotions take over my life.

As a musician, I think I should be an emotional being.  After all, music elicits feelings, and hopefully I am able to transfer those emotions to my listeners/students, right?  If I watch a movie or read a book where something sad happens, I should be able to feel sad or even cry.  If they’re funny I should be able to laugh out loud until I can’t breathe.  Truth be told, I think I’m more of a cryer than a laugher.  I cry when I see or hear just about anything, whether it’s something terribly sad or something incredibly beautiful.  And I’m an UGLY cryer, so I try to avoid it like the plague, but then it builds up and I HAVE to cry and well, the ugly just gets worse.  Over the years, I’ve tried to just give in to the need to cry, just to avoid the build up.

For me personally, this whole crying thing is hard.  I was told as a child that I was “too sensitive” (whatever that means) and was laughed at when I cried.  I’m sure it was meant to be an affectionate laugh – I think.  As I tend to cry when things are beautiful as well, I found myself crying during a Christian concert once as I thought the message and the music itself was so beautiful and the man beside me actually said “if this makes you cry you’re not a very mature Christian”.  I took that to heart for a long time.  I think it made me a callous Christian for a long time.  I know now he was wrong.  But how awful to judge someone’s emotions like that.

The problem with emotions is when you CAN’T control them – they control you.  Literally.  Those times when you cry for absolutely no reason other than to cry and you can’t seem to stop.  Then people tell you that you must be depressed so you go to a physician who says, why yes, you are clinically depressed so here is a little white pill.  The pill kicks in and soon you are feeling very little emotion.  You are able to handle everything because everything is “fine”.  No real highs or lows, just “fine”.  It certainly makes things easier for those around you. After a while, you stop having dreams when you sleep, you stop feeling things when you hear music, you stop feeling things during big events in your life.  Things are managed to the point where you wonder if it’s even you anymore.  So you decide you would rather feel the emotion than to not feel the emotion.

Wow, so I’m feeling the emotions again and as they used to be, they feel a bit out of control.  I’m dreaming again but I’m also having nightmares again.  I’m crying again but I’m also fighting some of that depression again. But when I’m laughing, I’m really laughing and that’s really good.  I feel like me again, just not in control again. I’m not saying that medication isn’t a good thing, but I wonder if there’s maybe a better way to handle this, whether it’s through prayer or meditation or finding something simple like coloring again to relax and refocus.  Maybe I need to spend more time with people, doing things for others to take the attention off of myself.  It’s a work in progress, that’s for sure.

So yes, lately I’ve been trying to manage those emotional attacks that seem to take over my life.  I hope this doesn’t sound like it’s all about me, although some days when I’m feeling particularly sorry for myself and therefore really emotional, it is, but I also know that others struggle with this as well.  It’s hard for those who don’t struggle with this to understand and that’s ok. How could you?  You don’t have this emotional monster who rears it’s ugly head at the most inopportune moments and attacks you from within.  It’s a little like the movie Alien where right in the middle of a lovely dinner, this thing pushes its way through your stomach to interrupt everything.  Like a jack-in-the-box, you try to push it back in and cover it with the lid, hoping it won’t pop back up without warning and scare everyone.

But today is another day.  I’m finishing breakfast, watching the birds fight over the bird feeder and listening to them chirp and making plans for a lovely, productive day.  Hopefully a day where I don’t feel attacked again from within.

“And today, the tie goes back on” said my friend through his Facebook post.  Yep, now that summer is coming to an end, it’s time to look “professional” again and add the tie to the ensemble.  But what is it about a tie that makes people think “professional”?  It’s like heels for women.  Who decided that putting a chunk of something on the heel of a shoe to make a person taller signified a dressier or more professional appearance?  Why on the shoes and not on my head or something?

So I discovered we can blame King Louis XIII of France for this silly tie thing, because he  just happened to notice that the Croatian soldiers he hired wore them as part of their uniform.  Hence, the name “Cravate” was born.  It has taken on many forms since then, long and short, fat and skinny, but they all symbolize things like genteel birth, social rank, coming of age, a blind following of tradition, power and success.  So today, 400 years or so later, men still wear this skinny little piece of cloth tied around their necks, usually with a suit to dress to impress.  Some things never change.

So many times our perception of professionalism is based on how a person dresses.  Unless you’re Steve Jobs and then, well, turtlenecks were a thing.  For the longest time, if a woman wanted to be perceived to be as powerful or as important as a man in the corporate world, she wore a masculine suit.  Just look at Scully in The X-Files as her suits evolved during the series.  My hope is that, unless your job/profession requires you to wear a uniform, women who want to can wear something more feminine and still be considered professional.  And that leads me to dresses.

At the company my youngest son works for, women are required to wear skirts or dresses.  No pants.  It is what they consider professional.  It takes me straight back to 1968 at West End Elementary School in Aurora Colorado where even in the dead of winter we had to wear dresses or skirts to school.  We could wear pants underneath, but the minute we got to school, they had to be off. Anyway, I digress.  I don’t know about the heels part where he works – I haven’t asked.  Anyway, who decided that putting high heels on a shoe makes an outfit professional?  Perhaps someone who has never had to wear them?  I get how they make your legs look longer and build up your calf muscles, but men can look professional in flat shoes, so why not women?  Is it so we can be taller to stand beside men?  Just asking….

Which leads me to teachers.  In the old days, it was required that teachers dress professionally, just like any other profession.  I often wonder if the the demise of respect for teachers began at the same time as the demise of our professional wardrobes.  We say it doesn’t ‘matter what we wear – I can still do my job wearing whatever and I shouldn’t be judged for that. However, if the teacher at my school is wearing the same thing that the guy at the fast food restaurant down the road is wearing, it might be harder to not treat them the same.  Not that you shouldn’t respect everyone, but in terms of whether someone is a professional or not, do the clothes make the man – I mean – teacher?

I’m an elementary music teacher, so yes, it is much more comfortable working with children in something that gives a little bit, something I can get on the floor with or chase an errant student around the room with.  High heels just don’t work, as witnessed when a former principal kicked off her shoes before she ran after a “runner” in bare feet and a suit.  Something more “business casual” tends to be more practical.  But what we end up with in a lot of cases is more casual than business and I’m just as guilty as any other teacher.  It’s much easier for me to throw on cropped pants or jeans, sandals and a t-shirt (without writing, unless it’s a “school” t-shirt) than it is to dress up.  Of course, this might be the reason the parents at my school refer to me by my first name instead of Mrs. Bush.

I’ve often heard the saying that we shouldn’t dress for the position or job we’re in but for the position we want.  What do my clothes tell people I want?  Is what I’m wearing matching my future goals?  Does it matter?  First impressions count, so when I meet that new parent and student, what do they think of me when they look at me?  Am I professional or not?  Was my friend more professional today than he was yesterday?  Maybe he was able to tie up more loose ends today while wearing his tie.

 

 

Sure, I get that vacation isn’t real life.  I understand it’s a time when you can put a message on your email that says, “Sorry I missed you!  Gone to paradise.  Talk to you next week!”  I understand that for a week or so, the only people you have to think about are yourself and perhaps a significant other and that work can be a distant memory.  The only problem with this picture is the lack of transition to the real world when you get back.

Key West is my idea of a perfect vacation.  While there are things to do, everything is somehow ssslllooowwweeerrr.  As I explained to Doug, it’s not like people aren’t efficient, or that things aren’t moving at a decent pace, it’s just that nobody makes you move at that pace with them.  Voices are calm, tropical breezes relax your body, you can walk everywhere so you’re not dealing with the stress of driving, and nobody rushes you through meals.  Sit, relax and practice mindfulness.  No more scarfing your meal like you will at school, no more yelling at drivers who step on their brakes before ever considering that the turn signal might be a clue to the rest of us that you’re going to step on your brakes, nobody chasing you out of stores or following you around.  Just. Take. Your. Time.

I tried to create a transition of one day.  Didn’t have to be anywhere or see anyone, but my significant other jumped right into work.  Honestly, one of the best parts of our vacation, was that we got to spend time with each other for a whole week!  I’m pretty sure this is literally the only time of the year we get to do this and it was wonderful.  But the minute we get home, he’s at the computer and band season has begun with a vengeance.  For me, it’s a little different.  Yes, I have some projects to look at and school begins in a little over a week, but I can chose my timeline.  And then today, the email exploded.  And I had a meeting.  And I’ll have another one tomorrow at lunch  (that I arranged), and I need to write an article, get ready for BOY meetings (beginning of year), meet my new student teacher and show her around.  It’s not like I don’t like any of this, it’s that again, there is no transition.

The other fun fact is that it seems to all hit at once.  It’s like someone says, “ok, they’ll be back to reality in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1” – and someone smacks a great big gong somewhere, sending vibrations everywhere and assumes that we’ll just turn on the engine and go.  It’s like trying to get my little car to jump from 0-60 in 15 seconds or something ridiculous.  There’s just going to be a lot of moaning and groaning and a little kick-back involved.

So just as I’m feeling the effects of the withdrawal, I grab my phone and look at pictures from Key West and try to recreate the feeling I had just a few days ago and wonder what it would be like to live in a place like that permanently.  Would you just get used to it after a while and would all the magic disappear?  Would I catch myself saying things like “oh, another beautiful flower or nice palm trees” with a ho-hum tone to my voice?  Perhaps I would actually find myself wasting away in Margaritaville.  You never know.  Perhaps the grass I think is greener isn’t…. but I sure wouldn’t mind trying it out to see.

 

 

When I was a kid, it didn’t take much to make me happy.  Like for instance, the Kelloggs Variety Pack of cereal.  Little packages of cereal, where I could choose Frosted Flakes one morning and Raisin Bran the next.  It wasn’t really very economical as it was cheaper to buy the big boxes, but once in a while, mom would get the variety pack.  Now, I didn’t like everything in the variety pack so it was a good thing that my brother usually liked what I didn’t.  He didn’t give me a hard time for not liking everything and I didn’t give him a hard time.  We weren’t afraid of the things we weren’t crazy about, it was more about personal taste or what was important to us. 

Like butterflies.  Did you know that there are 40,000 types of butterflies?  Talk about variety!  They’re all wonderful, but there are some that to me are more beautiful than others.  I don’t hate the other butterflies and I’m not afraid of the them, so I don’t have lepidopterophobia, There are some people who just don’t like butterflies, and that’s fine.  Not everyone has to like them, but we can at least all appreciate and respect them. 

Like snakes.  There are so many different kinds of snakes.  Poisonous and non poisonous.  Different colors, different sizes.  I definitely have ophidiophobia.  Do I hate them?  Yes, I feel like I do, but as I’ve been told, it’s because I don’t know enough about them and don’t understand them.  I don’t see the benefit of having these in the ecosystem because frankly, they freak me out and I can’t get past the freaking.  I don’t have a phobia because I hate them, it’s because I don’t understand them and frankly don’t want to.  Fear is a strong emotion that drives us to doing and saying things about animals, or reptiles or….people that we might not do if we took the time to get to know them.  Again, I still may not agree with them, but I don’t have to agree with someone to love them anyway. 

Now is it a good thing to have variety in all things?  You betcha!  Variety is the spice of life, as they say. In my classroom I try to expose my students to a variety of genres of music.  How else are they going to make an intelligent choice of what they like or don’t like and be able to explain why?  I always make it a point in my class to let kids know it’s ok to like or dislike a certain style or genre of music.  Not all music is for everyone.  Sometimes a student will say out loud, “I don’t like music” in the middle of class and some sweet child, afraid that this other student has hurt my feelings will say to them, “don’t say that – it’s not nice!”.  My students don’t always understand that it’s ok to speak their truth in my classroom, as long they speak it kindly.  While I may appreciate different genres of music, even I don’t like everything, and that’s ok.

Variety is challenging – It challenges us to examine things in more detail and perhaps consider things you never considered before.  And while it’s never ok to hate,  it’s ok to have personal preferences.  Hate isn’t necessarily disagreement and disagreement isn’t necessarily hate.  They are two completely different things, although many people seem to lump them together anymore.  To assume someone hates just because they don’t agree with something is pretty narrow minded. Humans are more complicated than that. It’s something I explain to my kids in my music classes.  We’re going to listen to all kinds of music, some they’re going to like and some they’re not going to like and that’s ok.  Having variety means there’s something for everyone and as I tell my kids, you like what you like and nobody can tell you what you should like or dislike.  Although I do tend to question my kids who listen to Schoenberg and like it….  Just kidding.  Maybe.

Public schools are a case study in variety; a variety of abilities, gifts, behaviors, cultures, ages, experiences, etc.  You get my point.  In a typical class I have a veritable smorgasbord of children and it’s an opportunity for me and my students to get to know and understand what each person is all about.  They learn by playing and interacting, talking at lunch and recess. While you may have kids who are similar, no two are alike.  Do I like some more than others?  To be honest, yes I do.  Again, not everyone likes everything. I think it’s human nature.  However, I can LOVE all of these children because love isn’t just something you feel, it’s something you DO.  I have learned to care about each child and know it’s my job to take each child and help them to grow to be the best person they can be. It’s also about teaching kids not to be afraid of or hate the variety that is just a part of life. A life that’s just one great big variety pack. 

 

There are so many pros to staying or traveling on tropical islands.  Ocean breezes, beaches, plenty of sunshine and a slower lifestyle.  There are also, for some of us, some cons that I will personally categorize as “creepy”.  Things that are creepy enough that if they disappeared I would never miss them.  I’m sure they’re important in the whole scheme of life and all, but – no.

The great thing for me this week was that I didn’t see ANY spiders.  I’m not saying there aren’t any, but I didn’t SEE any.  And as far as I’m concerned, that’s good enough.  To take their place however, were geckos.  “They won’t hurt you!”, he said. “They’ll run away from you” he said.  Didn’t matter, they seemed to be just where I wan’t expecting and they move fast.  Sure, they’ll run away from you IF they have a place to run.  What if they don’t?  What if they are confused like a squirrel and run at you?  This is serious stuff here folks!

Then there are iguanas.  HUGE iguanas.  We were told they are everywhere.  One store employee told us there was one on a shelf in their clothing store.  Well, yes, if you leave your door open, these kinds of things can sneak in!  Doug wanted so badly to see one that I told him we could go to the city cemetery where apparently they have an iguana wrangler pick up 40-50 every week.  I didn’t have to get out of the car – Doug could have all the fun with that he wanted.  However, we completely lucked out when one decided to run across from us on the beach to hide in a bunch of greenery.  Everyone suddenly gathered around this little piece of vegetation to take pics, but not me.  Pictures are just fine.  I watched as one young man tried to coax it out with leaves from said vegetation.  I was waiting for him to fall onto said iguana and give us a show.  No such luck however.

Other than that, no other creepy things, so this made me very happy.  On the way home we decided that you can’t be right next to the Florida Everglades and not ride an airboat to check out alligators.  How hard could this be?  We ride through the water and see gators from a distance.  We got our tickets and proceeded as instructed  to the animal demonstration.  I’m not sure what I expected, but was surprised to have to walk right beside alligators in cages.  Really big alligators.  REALLY, REALLY big alligators.  I don’t mind if I have a minute to prepare myself, but not crazy about looking down to either side of me and oh, there’s an alligator.  We go to the covered area with the other unsuspecting passengers and the guide begins to educate us about alligators. I can do lectures, so cool.  Until he reaches into a little tank behind him.

The two year old alligator was about a couple of feet long and he had it up front with him, so so far, so good.  Then he decided to walk among us to touch it.  I can do this – it’s not that big, right?  He’s holding it tightly so it’s not going to get me, right?  So, sitting next to Doug so he could protect me from this little gator, I actually touched it.  Me.  I touched a little gator.  Pretty impressive, huh?  Then he says something about snakes.

He’s kidding, right?  Snakes?  Why yes, they can even hang from trees.  Yay.  So he pulls out this red tailed boa and lets it hang around his neck so nonchalantly while he tells us all about boas and pythons, blah, blah, blah.  I’m hearing nothing because he’s put it on the ground to do whatever it’s going to do.  Then he picks it up and starts to take it around for people to touch.  I feel the panic begin and the need to run kicks in, but I can’t figure out how to do that gracefully, and here he comes towards us with this snake.  He does ask if people want to touch it and when we make eye contact, I’m pretty sure I gave him the wide-eyed, please don’t come near me look and gratefully he didn’t get too close.  If his goal was to put fear in the hearts of those getting ready to take the airboat ride, it worked.

Now, I should say I had a really good time on the airboat, and unfortunately did not see any alligators during our trip (a lot like a whale watch we did last year).  A little disappointing, but ok at the same time.  The idea of creepy things is enough.

 

 

 

They were literally everywhere.  Tall Hemingways and short Hemingways, thin Hemingways and heavy Hemingways.  Hemingways in Khaki and white and one in a heavy cable knit sweater.  This guy should have gotten a prize just for wearing it in this heat! Most of them seemed to be older Hemingways – not sure I saw any younger Hemingways.  All of this to celebrate the 120th birthday of our boy Ernest.

Sloppy Joe’s Bar, a favorite haunt of this famous writer, was packed when we entered – not as packed as it is at night and not as scary.  There have been at least two bouncers there each night we’ve walked by and boy does that place come alive with music and laughter.  Doug especially wanted to go, I think because he kind of looks like the old boy himself, to sit and have some Pilar Dark Rum to honor this writer – and just say he had a glass of rum at Sloppy Joes.  I on the other hand decided upon a Daiquiri, mainly because it was fruity and frozen and it was National Daiquiri Day today.  I had no choice.

The yearly contest to choose the new “Papa” was set to get underway @5:00 p.m. so we were pushing it a little to get our drinks and get out of the way of all of the men there to compete.  Friends and family had signs and t-shirts, hoping to sway the judges I suppose, and everywhere you looked was a slightly different version of Hemingway.  The bar itself is an homage to him, giant sailfish on the wall and pictures of every size and shape depicting Ernest at different stages in his life.  It was big and open to the tropical breezes, raucous and tacky and everyone was loving it.  We watched a young man singing on stage right before the contest and this other young man in the audience began singing every word with him, gesticulating to express each word of the song as though he was having a conversation with the singer.  Hysterical.

The craziest thing about our time at Sloppy Joes was that we ran into two people we know from different parts of the country.  The first was a former band director from Nebraska who was sitting at the bar having a drink and listening to the music.  As we were walking down the sidewalk past the bar after our cruise last night, I looked into the bar and took a double take.  I looked at Doug and he asked, did you see him, and we backpedaled to the window.  Sure enough, there he was, with the same wide-eyed disbelief on his face, all of us laughing and sharing how we got there.  Then today after we got our drinks and were walking to the front door, I noticed that I had lost Doug somewhere along the way.  I go back to see him talking with someone and find out it’s a former student from Loveland High School where he taught 20+ years ago.  She dated and married one of his band kids.  What a crazy small world!  All of us meeting on a tiny tropical island, to go the the place Ernest Hemingway made famous.

So after purchasing a t-shirt and shot glass from this crazy place, we headed back to our home away from home the back way to avoid the Hemingway celebration that had closed the main street of Duval.  Back with my own personal version of Hemingway to share dinner on our last evening on magical Key West.

The man with the guitar stood at the microphone by himself, asking if anyone in the audience would come sing with him.  It was the nightly sunset celebration and for his part, he was singing songs about – you guessed it – sunsets.  He talked to us about how watching the sunset should be a time of thanks.  Thanks for another day.  But back to his dilemma.  He needed some singers.  So, here we were, two musicians, and Doug says, “I feel bad for him – nobody is volunteering.  Do you want to go sing?”.  Me?  Sing?  Without rehearsal?  In front of strangers?  The gentleman asked again, saying, “nobody here knows you and chances are they won’t remember they were here in the morning, so come join me”.

Doug  looks at me again and challenges me.  I had said that I wanted to try doing more things that scared me and here was my chance.  So…. we both got up and volunteered, followed shortly by a young brother and sister.  So, here we are up in front of this crowd singing “daylight come and me want to go home” when cued.  And I did it!  Being an introvert makes things so hard sometimes.

This morning began with breakfast at the same place we had dinner the night before where Doug got key lime French toast.  We are in Key West after all.  Down the street was the Mel Fisher Maritime Museum.  Not my favorite thing to do, but this was Doug’s choice and after all, he put up with the Butterfly Museum yesterday and has walked through numerous art galleries with me.  I didn’t expect to get much from this.  However, I was struck by the perseverance of this guy Mel Fisher.  His dream was SO big, one that began as a boy in Indiana and love for the book Treasure Island.  He ended up in California, learned to dive and ran a diving school with his wife.  They moved to Key West with the dream of finding treasure, spending 16 years looking for the treasure they eventually found.  During this time they barely scraped by, dealt with bill collectors, living in an old houseboat with their kids, and every day, started with the words,  “today’s the day!”. Family passed away in accidents but they continued the work in their names. In the end, they discovered the motherlode, half a billion dollars worth of gold, silver and other things from a Spanish ship that sunk in 1622.  Then they had to fight in court for eight years to be able to keep what they had found, which they finally did.  A dream doesn’t always happen overnight.  Sometimes it takes hard work, belief in that work and time.

Island Time.  Reality or just a state of mind?  Sure, I’m on vacation, but honestly, I have very rarely looked at the time.  I go to bed when I’m tired, get up when I wake up, eat when I’m hungry, walk to wherever I want to go.  I swim for as long as I feel like it and spend time just breathing.  We go to a museum and stay as long as we want. Time seems to last longer, if that makes sense.  I might think it’s 3:00 p.m. and it’s 1:00.  We’ve slowed down, spent time talking, eating great food, creating blogs, iMovies, and taking  thoughtful photos.  We have time to see the beauty in everything, the beautiful flowers, plants, sunsets and art.

What is it about our daily lives that sucks up all the time?  Sure, I work a 7 1/2 hour day, but there are 24 hours in a day.  Why am I not finding time for the same talking, eating great food, creating and taking that time to see the beauty in things in my day?  Am I using the time I have doing work that feeds me, like it did Mel Fisher or am I just doing my time?  Time can be both finite and infinite, but we have choices in how we use our time.  Are we taking time for adventures, for doing things that scare us, things that are out of our comfort zone?  Are we following our dreams and having adventures, even if  that dream doesn’t come to fruition for many years?  I think I’m going to try waking up every day and say “Today’s the Day!”.

We told ourselves we weren’t going to run ourselves to death checking out all the local stuff, however, being the learners we are and seeing as there was all this stuff to see and do, what choice did we have?  We’ve decided that staying inside the whole time because of the heat and humidity is a viable option, but that would mean being inside all day every day.  So, we brave the heat, drink the water and perspire the water.  By the gallon.  Somehow Doug makes it look better than I do but I suppose I would look better too if I didn’t put all this stuff on my face in the morning just to sweat it off the moment I walk out the door.

One of the joys and sometimes the frustration of only the two of you traveling is that 1) with only two people it doesn’t take long to decide what you want to do for the day unless 2) you spend the day saying things like “where do you want to go?”  and getting answers like “I don’t know.  Where do YOU want to go?”.  This could go on for awhile.  The good thing about us is the we tend to like most of the same stuff, so the agenda yesterday consisted of the Hemingway House, the Key West light house and a ghost hunt.

The best part of this day was how much I learned.  No, I didn’t know all of Hemingway’s history, or about the 6 toed cats.  I have read a couple of his books, but the biggest connection I have is that my grandmother and Hemingway’s mother were neighbors in Oak Park, Illinois where he was born.  At this time, he was long gone from the house and I often wonder if his mom would brag about her son and all of the adventures he was having.  I made it a point to take pictures of the space where he wrote – alone of course, his comfy chair, books, writing table and typewriter in a space where he wrote ten novels I believe in the space of 8-9 years.  It was inspiring to listen to the story of what he would write about (and who ; ) and that it was always about someone or somewhere he knew or an experience he had.  We had the BEST guide with a great sense of humor, who seemed to take great pleasure from the fact that Hemingway had four wives and that they were all friends.  They had a LOT in common as she would explain, LOL!

Across the road from the Hemingway house was the light house.  Originally right on the beach (Hemingway’s house was originally beachfront property), it now sits more in the middle of town as at some point, they decided to just make the island bigger.  Who knew you could do that?  And how did they make it bigger and with what materials?  Inquiring minds want to know.  Afraid of heights myself, I watched as far as I could as Doug climbed the spiral staircase to the top fo the lighthouse and I took pictures of the plants and animals on the property.  At one point he yelled down to me, “hey, did you see the iguana?  It was big enough to see from up here!”.  This immediately sent me to looking around me and staying far away from the lighthouse, because while he was excited about it, me not so much.

After showering again and changing clothes, it was off to dinner and a ghost hunt.  Not a ghost tour, but a hunt where we would get to have equipment and try to call someone out from beyond.  I’m sure we have been more successful if not for the cheery, LOUD guide who needed no megaphone but certainly sounded like she already had one.  I’m also pretty sure she scared away any  ghosts that might have been there.  There she would stand, 10 p.m., yelling stories to the group of 30 following her down the street.  Entertaining, but didn’t see any ghosts like I did in Savannah.  Better ghosts there I think. Or maybe the ghosts were just annoyed.  It was, however, a little creepy to do a “cleansing” before we left the tour to make sure nothing would follow us home.  I have to admit I was a little creeped out going to bed last night.

Today began with a trip to the Butterfly and Nature Conservatory where we had the chance to see birds and butterflies.  I’ve been to butterfly habitats before but this one took my breath away, literally.  I held a sob in my throat while these stunning blue butterflies, who seemed to rule the roost, thrilled everyone with their aerial acrobatics.  It was just so beautiful.  I asked one of the people who worked there, what it felt like to work here and her response was that everyone was very stress free.  But how could you not be with all of those beautiful colors flying around you?

We followed this experience with smoothies at a little sidewalk cafe and waited for the bus.  Then our excitement for the day really began,  We were waiting with four ladies who were speaking Italian, obviously family.  After a few minutes, one of them spotted the bus coming, but Doug and I were distracted by this cute yellow island vehicle.  Without warning, CRASH!! A big SUV clipped a smaller white car and the driver of the white car was NOT happy.  Unfortunately, our distraction didn’t allow us to see everything that happened, so although we felt bad, we left these two gentlemen to figure things out for themselves.

We went back to the house and hit the pool, with a nap for him and writing time for me. And that’s what vacation/getting away should be.  Adventures, seeing and learning about new things, and somethings doing absolutely nothing with your best friend.  We’re embracing our “tourist” selves and loving it.

The drive from Ft. Lauderdale to Key West was not something I had experienced before.  The anticipation of driving along the ridiculously long bridges, such amazing feats of engineering, excited me like a little kid, and I found myself just laughing out loud over seemingly nothing.  Good thing Doug knows me or he might have been concerned.  Because there were so many fun things during the day, I’ll focus on just a few that stood out.

First, can’t say enough about the Island Time Diner and Ice Cream in Marathon.  We just wanted a local place to stop to have something simple and get on our way, but also someplace that wasn’t a total dive.  We found this little hole in the wall, that from the outside was not so impressive.  On the inside however, was a colorful little place, benches and simple patio tables where not only did they have 24 flavors of ice cream and sorbet, but burgers, sandwiches and homemade fries as well.  It was a father/daughter team working, with her working the counter and dad in the kitchen with his granddaughter in her little baby swing in the corner.  The 1/2 pound, hand formed teriyaki and fresh pineapple burger was ridiculous and he just stood around like a proud papa asking “so, was the burger good?”  Again, American small business at its best.  Can you tell I love burgers?

We hopped back in the red mustang convertible and made our way down to Key West to our home away from home.  We hadn’t even unpacked anything before we decided to go for a walk and see what there was.  Our first stop was a great little art gallery where the gentleman was from – you guessed it – Grand Island, Nebraska!  He had lived other places as well, but seriously,  what were the chances? After that we just kept walking down the street because in old town, shops, houses, restaurants and bars are sprinkled all together.  We hadn’t had dinner yet and had no real idea of where we were going, but I had looked at the info the realtor had given us and had read about this southern restaurant called The Firefly.  Southern food done with a twist, both small and large plates.  So, as we’re walking down what looks like a residential street, I look up and there it is!  I had read a little article about this woman who had moved from New York where she had been in investment banking, and while on vacation had also stopped at this restaurant.  She was so impressed with the quality of the restaurant that she quit her job and now serves/bartends at The Firefly.  There are a lot of those stories, people who came to get away and decided to stay away.  Makes you think, hmmmm….

After dinner Doug says, the beach can’t be too far, let’s just walk down and see it.  We should know better – we tend to do this a lot.  The sun has just about set and we’re walking, and walking, and walking until we see signs to BEACH and think yay – we’re almost there!  We have to walk around parts of a naval base to get there where we discover the park where the beach is closes at sunset.  Seriously?!? So now, we’ve got to WALK all the way back to the house.  The island is only 4 miles by 3 miles, so how can it feel like a million?!?  Well, let’s just say that the next time one of my dear friends in Nebraska fusses about the humidity there, I’m shipping them off to Key West, where the temp today was 87 and it felt like 100.  Now THAT’S humidity.  The great thing about walking somewhere however, is that you really get to know the place, you start recognizing storefronts and figuring out where things are in relation to each other.  You stop and hi to people, you pop up to outdoor counters and order fresh fruit smoothies just because you can, or you stop in to check out estate sale art pieces worth tens of thousands and you WALK.

Today we walked to some other really cool things and places to eat, but that’s another story for tomorrow.  We’re resting up to walk again tonight to dinner and then do a walking ghost tour.  Yep, the walking adventure continues!