I’m what they refer to as a “short timer” now. Today, in preparation for my departure at the end of this month, I was replaced as Broker-In-Charge of my real estate firm. Feels weird. Up ’til now, I don’t think folks believed I was actually going to leave – everyone figured I’d change my mind. Now that it’s apparent I really am moving to Florida, everyone has started talking about how strange it is going to be not having me around. I’ve already had several goodbye lunches with friends and coworkers and every day gets just a little harder. Leaving the Outer Banks will not be especially difficult but leaving the people is another thing entirely. I have made such wonderful friends here during the past 11 years and I will miss everyone so much.
Late this afternoon, Colleen, a fellow agent who used to be my real estate assistant and is now a successful Broker in her own right, rushed into my office, plunked a shopping bag down on my desk, then rushed out saying she couldn’t watch me open it because she would cry. Instead, I sat all alone in the deserted building and dug through wads of multi-colored tissue paper to find a wall plaque containing the following verse: Read More
I am going to LOVE living in Sarasota! My apartment is five blocks from downtown and within walking distance of a huge Whole Foods Market, the main library, a 20-plex cinema, my bank headquarters, the Van Wesel Performing Arts Center, the Opera, the Symphony, at least 5 playhouses and probably 50 restaurants. The apartment is also only a few blocks from the bridge leading to Lido Beach on St. Armands Circle – close enough for me to bike to.
But the thing that strikes me most are the clowns of Sarasota. All around town are life size statues of clowns figures that have been painted and decorated by local artists. Since Sarasota was the traditional home of the Ringling Brothers Circus, and the Ringling family has been a tremendous benefactor of the city for many years, the clown theme makes sense. After being displayed for a time, the figures will be auctioned off to generate donations for a local children’s charity. What fun!
I’ve been working on my newest project for about ten days now and I have no one to blame but myself. I always think, “If I can just finish this job or that project, I’ll have more time and less stress in my life.” But the moment I scratch a few things off the list and have some free time, I scramble to take on another project. What’s up with that? It’s almost as if I WANT stress in my life – or maybe I just don’t know how to relax.
Ten days ago (no doubt on a day when I had cleared the decks, so to speak, of all immediate projects and was wondering what to do with myself) I got the harebrained idea to buy my 81 year-old father an iPod for Christmas. This is not as crazy as it sounds. Like me, my father loves music. During the summer his stereo is on all day long – sometimes he even goes to bed and forgets to turn it off. I use the term “stereo” loosely. My two sisters and I try to keep Dad updated and “with it” but his stereo consists of an old 5-disk CD changer that doesn’t support mp3s and an even older turntable. So I figured that I could convert all his CDs to mp3s, load them on an iPod, buy a set of speakers with a dock and – Voila! – Dad would have access to a couple of thousand songs that he could listen to endlessly without having to change CDs.
My only problem was how to get my hands on his CD’s. I knew if I just leveled with him I would have a huge fight on my hands. Some years ago my sisters bought Mom and Dad a computer for their 50th Anniversary. Dad came unglued – ranted and raved for weeks that it was a waste of money, that it would never be used, etc. When he finally ran out of steam and accepted the fact that there was a computer in the house and it wasn’t going anywhere, he slowly (and on the sly) began learning how to use it. Now, some years and three computers later, Read More
Mother Nature put on a show today. It started this morning when I awoke to blessed sunshine pouring through my open bedroom windows. Normally my windows wouldn’t be open in December, but we’re having a mild spell (it got up to 75 degrees today) so I took advantage of it to enjoy the last hurrah before winter comes crashing in.
I finally made myself crawl out from under my nice warm down comforter and was stretching in the sunshine when I heard an unusual bird call. Perched in the very top of the tree closest to my rear deck was the largest Pileated Woodpecker I have ever seen. When I was younger I used to watch Woody Woodpecker cartoons. It wasn’t until I moved to the Outer Banks and saw my first Pileated, with its big red head and pointed head feathers, that I realized the cartoon character was based on an actual bird. I’ve only seen one other Pileated Woodpecker, some years ago, but I should have recognized it from its call alone – Ha-Ha-Ha-HA-ha! – just like good ol’ Woody. For those of you who are too young to remember Woody Woodpecker (am I dating myself??), here’s a photo of a Pileated Woodpecker, although it is not a photo I took.
You might think that this post is about the gorgeous 78 degree weather we had on the Outer Banks today on the last day of November. Or about our golden beaches glistening in the sunshine. Or even about our golden sunsets over the Sound. But no – today’s little bit of gold refers to a cargo container that washed up on the shore yesterday and, like a beached whale, regurgitated hundreds of bags of Doritos.
Frito Lay says that the word “Dorito” means “A Little Bit Of Gold” in Spanish. Judging by the hordes of people scurrying along the beach stuffing plastic grocery bags full of nacho, sour cream and onion, and jalapeno flavored chips, you would have thought they had struck gold. And maybe, in a way, they did.
Just a week ago we suffered through an angry nor’easter that damaged oceanfront homes and carried away more of our precious beach. A good friend of mine lost the ground floor of his place, his septic system, and the entire dune in front of his oceanfront cottage. Normally, a cargo container that falls off a ship plying the merchant lanes near our shores would have sunk to the bottom. But undoubtedly, the nor’easter’s thrashing waves are responsible for carrying that container from the deep water to the shallower sand bars near shore, where it inexorably inched toward the beach. The Universe giveth and the Universe taketh away. Not that I’m implying that a few bags of corn chips can make up for the devastation and destruction of the storm – but at least it’s “A Little Bit Of Gold.”