At the end of Part 2 Nancy and I had departed Disney's Polynesian and headed out to my mother's place in Zephyrhills, about an hour away. The trip was uneventful, and we settled into Mom's steel bungalow with the ease of familiarity. Here's a recent pic of this cozy abode, complete with my favorite possession - a 40' palm tree.
We pick up the action the next morning.
Days 5 and 6. I'm reporting on these two days together because, well, I couldn't tell them apart. Let me explain.
When I'm in either of my own nests (Grosse Pointe or Greenbush), my days are fairly routinized. That's because I've had nearly four years of retirement to sort through my favorite activities and craft them into the perfect day. Arise leisurely, lounge with coffee and a light breakfast, watch a little Perry (Perry Mason for those of you at work from 9-10 each morning), dress and groom leisurely (if at all), take lunch (on the deck whenever possible), then spend the early afternoon on whatever "tasks" I've scheduled for the day (that would be from 1-1:30).
After this rigorous work period, it's time for play. Until happy hour. This play could involve a variety of hobby activities involving music, movies, games, reading, even a little blogging. Or when the weather's right, a brisk walk, golf, biking, kayaking, hammock stretching or the like (this may sound like exercise, but it's really playing at a moderately faster pace; and you don't want to overdo it). After happy hour (which can be a happy two hours) and a light supper, back to play until 9:00 or so. Then end the day with a movie from my personal library and some time with my current book, until I nod off. You get the idea. Routinized.
I would like to add here that my Bride, while not quite as deep in a groove as I am, has her own routine parts of which, thankfully, align with my own. Those would be the morning laze, lunch, certain activities in the afternoon play regime (walking, biking, kayaking, golf), and happy hour, which frequently morphs into happy dinner or happy dinner-and-a-movie.
Outside of these shared times, Nancy has a long list of independent interests that fill her day while I'm off in the lab or fine-tuning my dawdle. Among other things, this list includes gardening, the Little Chickadee (her backyard birding website), a variety of craft projects, exercising Coco, binge-watching crime dramas, and monitoring a global network of police scanners (if you're into break-ins in Brisbane, she's your girl).
Our respective routines have served us quite well through the years, keeping us connected through our together time and affording each of us sufficient parallel play to pursue our separate interests. I'm a firm believer that it's similarities that make people compatible but differences that keep them interesting to each other.
Now back to Zephyrhills. As you might expect, Nancy and I have had a fair amount of success adapting our routines to the road, especially in venues where we spend a good deal of time. My mother's place qualifies in this category. Fortunately, my mother's routine dovetails nicely with our own (and has likely had some influence on ours as she has had 30 years of practice - she retired in 1986). The mornings go like this. We arise leisurely, lounge with coffee and a light breakfast, watch a little Perry, dress and groom (not optional at Mom's), and take lunch (at a favorite restaurant whenever possible; Mom likes her lunches out).
Nancy is usually up before me, as is my mother, which provides them a little private time in the morning for mind-tuning (Mom with crosswords, Nancy with her favorite tablet app Einstein Riddles) and to chat about what a great son and husband I am. Once I've joined the morning coffee klatsch, I've noticed that Nancy (technophile that she is) sort of migrates to her laptop and plunges into cyberspace. Curious. Well, maybe not.
But while our mornings in Zephyrhills are only a minor variation of our home routine, after lunch things get a little crazy. There are occasional house fix-it chores for me (have to maintain that "great son" thing). And frequent runs to the grocery store, the drug store, the bank, Home Depot, the liquor store, just to name a few. My mother is an active member of her community and comes from a generation that enjoys getting out. Shopping isn't just a chore here. It's an activity. People know their service providers, the cashiers at the grocery store, the druggist. It's nice.
Once the afternoon's outing is done, we repair to the living room or the Florida room for a little rest and relaxation, and to freshen up for happy hour. Nancy and I may catch up on our emails or challenge my mother to a little cribbage. Every once in a while, a brief nap has been known to transpire.
After happy hour (which at Mom's is at least two hours), and a not-so-light supper (can you say Mom's home cooking?), we don our walking shoes and cruise the streets of the Tippecanoe mobile home park until our heads clear and our blood chemistry returns to normal. This usually takes about 45 minutes, after which we rejoin my mother for her nightly viewing of the day's DVR'd soap operas. I must say, though it's often weeks and sometimes two or three months between my exposure to these soap operas (I see them only at Mom's), it seems I seldom miss any important plot points.
There is one notable deviation from this pattern. During baseball season the soap opera airings are held earlier (preempting Pat, Vanna and Alex) so that they can be completed by the first pitch of the Tigers game. My mother catches every Tigers game on MLB.TV, which she HDMIs from one of her two laptops to her big-screen hi-def TV. As you may have surmised, my mother is fairly tech-savvy for a nonagenarian.
On a comforting note, having survived wild variations from my usual routine, I'm generally able to close a day at Mom's in a familiar manner. My mother and my Bride generally hit the hay around 10:00, Mom with her canine companions Lola and Laci,
And Nancy with her tablet. I then enjoy a couple of solo hours in film land, most often with Forensic Files, a worthy alternative to any crime drama - truth is stranger than fiction. This is followed by a little drowsing up with a good book until I fade out, successfully completing yet another day in paradise.
So there you have it, the story of the Zephyrhills portion of our trip (and the Zephyrhills portion of nearly all of our trips). I must admit, it gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that my mother's conception of a perfect day has a few overlaps with mine. Just good genes, I guess. Time to move on.
Day 7. Our third morning in Zephyrhills went about like the first two. It being Sunday, our morning coffee TV fare consisted of a little CBS Sunday Morning and a tad of NBC's Meet the Press (with a little Daniel Boone and The Rifleman tossed in).
But, as this was another getaway day, there was a modicum of pressure. I knew where the car was parked. In the driveway. And there was no irritating checkout deadline. But although there was no threat of permanently losing any valuables (we would be back soon, and often), there was the worry of having to retrace our steps to retrieve an item left behind without which life could not go on. You know, like our meds, Nancy's puzzle books, my day planner. Fortunately, the travel gods smiled on us, and we were fully (and properly) packed and on our way back to Orlando shortly after lunch.
Due to our recon work the previous week, our arrival and check-in to the Tree Houses resort at Disney's Saratoga Springs went quickly and smoothly. We unpacked and took a self-guided tour of our vacation home and the surrounding area. Here are some pics. First up, the master bedroom and bath.
Here we have the great room sitting and eating areas as well as the kitchen.
And the other two bedrooms and second bath.
And finally the attached deck, walk up and barbecue area.
Nestled into our home for the week, Nancy and I uncorked our favorite libation and awaited the arrival of our friends, the Dyles and Wyatts, who would be joining us after a long weekend on Captiva Island. They made it in safe and sound that night, after which we had a second libation and planned our week in Orlando.
This seems like a good point to wrap up this installment and publish. I'll report on the ensuing week's activities in a Part 4, and as promised in Part 2, take on the issue of adults and theme parks. Talk to you soon.
Grosse Pointe Charles.
We pick up the action the next morning.
Friday and Saturday, March 11 and 12
Days 5 and 6. I'm reporting on these two days together because, well, I couldn't tell them apart. Let me explain.
When I'm in either of my own nests (Grosse Pointe or Greenbush), my days are fairly routinized. That's because I've had nearly four years of retirement to sort through my favorite activities and craft them into the perfect day. Arise leisurely, lounge with coffee and a light breakfast, watch a little Perry (Perry Mason for those of you at work from 9-10 each morning), dress and groom leisurely (if at all), take lunch (on the deck whenever possible), then spend the early afternoon on whatever "tasks" I've scheduled for the day (that would be from 1-1:30).
After this rigorous work period, it's time for play. Until happy hour. This play could involve a variety of hobby activities involving music, movies, games, reading, even a little blogging. Or when the weather's right, a brisk walk, golf, biking, kayaking, hammock stretching or the like (this may sound like exercise, but it's really playing at a moderately faster pace; and you don't want to overdo it). After happy hour (which can be a happy two hours) and a light supper, back to play until 9:00 or so. Then end the day with a movie from my personal library and some time with my current book, until I nod off. You get the idea. Routinized.
I would like to add here that my Bride, while not quite as deep in a groove as I am, has her own routine parts of which, thankfully, align with my own. Those would be the morning laze, lunch, certain activities in the afternoon play regime (walking, biking, kayaking, golf), and happy hour, which frequently morphs into happy dinner or happy dinner-and-a-movie.
Outside of these shared times, Nancy has a long list of independent interests that fill her day while I'm off in the lab or fine-tuning my dawdle. Among other things, this list includes gardening, the Little Chickadee (her backyard birding website), a variety of craft projects, exercising Coco, binge-watching crime dramas, and monitoring a global network of police scanners (if you're into break-ins in Brisbane, she's your girl).
Our respective routines have served us quite well through the years, keeping us connected through our together time and affording each of us sufficient parallel play to pursue our separate interests. I'm a firm believer that it's similarities that make people compatible but differences that keep them interesting to each other.
Now back to Zephyrhills. As you might expect, Nancy and I have had a fair amount of success adapting our routines to the road, especially in venues where we spend a good deal of time. My mother's place qualifies in this category. Fortunately, my mother's routine dovetails nicely with our own (and has likely had some influence on ours as she has had 30 years of practice - she retired in 1986). The mornings go like this. We arise leisurely, lounge with coffee and a light breakfast, watch a little Perry, dress and groom (not optional at Mom's), and take lunch (at a favorite restaurant whenever possible; Mom likes her lunches out).
Nancy is usually up before me, as is my mother, which provides them a little private time in the morning for mind-tuning (Mom with crosswords, Nancy with her favorite tablet app Einstein Riddles) and to chat about what a great son and husband I am. Once I've joined the morning coffee klatsch, I've noticed that Nancy (technophile that she is) sort of migrates to her laptop and plunges into cyberspace. Curious. Well, maybe not.
But while our mornings in Zephyrhills are only a minor variation of our home routine, after lunch things get a little crazy. There are occasional house fix-it chores for me (have to maintain that "great son" thing). And frequent runs to the grocery store, the drug store, the bank, Home Depot, the liquor store, just to name a few. My mother is an active member of her community and comes from a generation that enjoys getting out. Shopping isn't just a chore here. It's an activity. People know their service providers, the cashiers at the grocery store, the druggist. It's nice.
Once the afternoon's outing is done, we repair to the living room or the Florida room for a little rest and relaxation, and to freshen up for happy hour. Nancy and I may catch up on our emails or challenge my mother to a little cribbage. Every once in a while, a brief nap has been known to transpire.
After happy hour (which at Mom's is at least two hours), and a not-so-light supper (can you say Mom's home cooking?), we don our walking shoes and cruise the streets of the Tippecanoe mobile home park until our heads clear and our blood chemistry returns to normal. This usually takes about 45 minutes, after which we rejoin my mother for her nightly viewing of the day's DVR'd soap operas. I must say, though it's often weeks and sometimes two or three months between my exposure to these soap operas (I see them only at Mom's), it seems I seldom miss any important plot points.
There is one notable deviation from this pattern. During baseball season the soap opera airings are held earlier (preempting Pat, Vanna and Alex) so that they can be completed by the first pitch of the Tigers game. My mother catches every Tigers game on MLB.TV, which she HDMIs from one of her two laptops to her big-screen hi-def TV. As you may have surmised, my mother is fairly tech-savvy for a nonagenarian.
On a comforting note, having survived wild variations from my usual routine, I'm generally able to close a day at Mom's in a familiar manner. My mother and my Bride generally hit the hay around 10:00, Mom with her canine companions Lola and Laci,
And Nancy with her tablet. I then enjoy a couple of solo hours in film land, most often with Forensic Files, a worthy alternative to any crime drama - truth is stranger than fiction. This is followed by a little drowsing up with a good book until I fade out, successfully completing yet another day in paradise.
So there you have it, the story of the Zephyrhills portion of our trip (and the Zephyrhills portion of nearly all of our trips). I must admit, it gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling to know that my mother's conception of a perfect day has a few overlaps with mine. Just good genes, I guess. Time to move on.
Sunday, March 13
Day 7. Our third morning in Zephyrhills went about like the first two. It being Sunday, our morning coffee TV fare consisted of a little CBS Sunday Morning and a tad of NBC's Meet the Press (with a little Daniel Boone and The Rifleman tossed in).
But, as this was another getaway day, there was a modicum of pressure. I knew where the car was parked. In the driveway. And there was no irritating checkout deadline. But although there was no threat of permanently losing any valuables (we would be back soon, and often), there was the worry of having to retrace our steps to retrieve an item left behind without which life could not go on. You know, like our meds, Nancy's puzzle books, my day planner. Fortunately, the travel gods smiled on us, and we were fully (and properly) packed and on our way back to Orlando shortly after lunch.
Due to our recon work the previous week, our arrival and check-in to the Tree Houses resort at Disney's Saratoga Springs went quickly and smoothly. We unpacked and took a self-guided tour of our vacation home and the surrounding area. Here are some pics. First up, the master bedroom and bath.
Here we have the great room sitting and eating areas as well as the kitchen.
And the other two bedrooms and second bath.
And finally the attached deck, walk up and barbecue area.
Nestled into our home for the week, Nancy and I uncorked our favorite libation and awaited the arrival of our friends, the Dyles and Wyatts, who would be joining us after a long weekend on Captiva Island. They made it in safe and sound that night, after which we had a second libation and planned our week in Orlando.
This seems like a good point to wrap up this installment and publish. I'll report on the ensuing week's activities in a Part 4, and as promised in Part 2, take on the issue of adults and theme parks. Talk to you soon.
Grosse Pointe Charles.
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