Thank You, Captain Obvious: How Florida is Different From Minnesota
Oh, ha ha. A blog post about how two states, one known as the Sunshine State and the other one of an amalgam in an area of the country known as Flyover Land, are different! One would think I have time on my hands. Indeed, I do. Read on.
"Oh, you're going to be in Florida for 3 months in the winter? And you're inviting us to visit? Of course we'll come!"
"Oh, Minnesota, huh...well, you know, isn't it cold there? All year round?"
2. In Florida, the view out of the windows while doing yoga is the intercoastal, palm trees, birds of paradise, crane, gulls, pelicans divebombing for their breakfast into the sun dappled water. In Minnesota, the view out of the windows while doing yoga is snow at minimum four months of the year. In Florida, the view out the windows while doing deep water fitness is palm trees and the garage door type windows are most often opened up, at least part way. In Minnesota, the view from the pool is snow at minimum four months of the year.
3. Publix is the predominant grocery store in Florida. Publix stores sell wine and beer right in the store. So does the grocery section of Target, for Pete's sake! Minnesota, not so much, although I understand the legislature may be righting this grievous wrong this session.
4. The sunshine. On average, there are 198 sunny days per year in Minneapolis. The US average is 205 sunny days. Minneapolis gets some kind of precipitation, on average, 112 days per year. Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater Metro Area, Florida gets some kind of precipitation, on average, 107 days per year. O inches of that is snow. On average, there are 238 sunny days per year in Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater Metro Area. If you thrive on sunlight as I do, this is a factor to be given significant weight.
5. Minnesota: puffy coats and boots. Florida: shorts and bathing suits, maybe a cover up for the bathing suit, and flip flops. Although last week when it was in the low 60’s, I saw multiple people wearing the lightweight Florida version of the puffy coat, some adding a knit hat with a Pom Pom (part of the Minnesota uniform) and scarves.
6. Disney World; Universal Studios; Valleyfair; Busch Gardens; Sea World. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong. In Florida.
7. Time to myself. Look (which is the way all the political pundits begin their commentaries--Look...), I know how blessed I am and I give thanks every day for all that I am grateful for. When I retired, I wanted to have more time for myself. The research I've done for my Road Next Taken classes confirms that I'm not alone in this wish. Time for myself, not with friends or family, is usually the first response when impending retirees are asked what they hope for when they're not working any longer. In Minnesota, I have time for myself, frequently sandwiched among other regularly scheduled and some bulletin! activities. In Florida, the regular schedule includes time exercising and the rest sort of falls into line. Reading. Crossword puzzles. Blogging. Look (I was going to say frankly, but let's stick with Look), I miss my family and friends. (Just ask He Who Must Not Be Named how frequently I attempt to FaceTime them.) Many will come to spend time with us here (see #1) and as previously written, that's the primary reason why we come to Florida in the winter: my parents spent about 15 years, give or take a few, about a mile or so north of where we've been the last 4 years. Because of their generosity and love, we were able to save our children from the grasp of the North Winds for at least a week and immerse them in sun, sand, sea--and Grandma and Grandpa. The expression on their faces when they recall those days was enough to solidify for me and the Spousal Unit™ that replicating an escape from the Bold North was, indeed, an excellent idea. And it has proved to be that to the moon and back.
Look, time for myself. Time to revitalize, to breathe. To think about whatever crosses my mind, explore it as deeply or shallowly (Look, let's be honest about my brain capacity) as it feels right to do in the moment. To have the time to maintain, maybe even expand the gratitude practice I far too often struggle to follow which often gets sucked into the Polar Vortex because, as I said, Look, I have so much to be grateful for.
Look. Time for myself. To better appreciate the Spousal Unit™ and how our varying idiosyncrasies have become a symphony with each other--yes, a cacophany at times and as we have mutually mellowed into a space of comfort, acceptance, love, contentment peppered with why the hell does s/he do that--not do this, we're blessed with the company of each other. (It is Valentine's Day, after all.)
Look: time to simmer. How often we're brought to a quick boil and then left to mop up the dregs. Simmer is nice, slow, easy, peaceful.
Look! I get it! Everyone, at every stage in their lives, needs time for myself. In one of my classes this past year, a gentleman asked, "Where are the golden years? Remember those? The promise of sitting all day in the recliner, if you wanted that?"
We all have our version of that recliner, when we think about time for myself. Right now this is mine, and thank you, God, for the ocean. And the beach. The sunshine. Florida in February as opposed to Minnesota.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
How Florida is Different from Minnesota
1. People will come and visit you in Florida. Minnesota is a harder sell."Oh, you're going to be in Florida for 3 months in the winter? And you're inviting us to visit? Of course we'll come!"
"Oh, Minnesota, huh...well, you know, isn't it cold there? All year round?"
2. In Florida, the view out of the windows while doing yoga is the intercoastal, palm trees, birds of paradise, crane, gulls, pelicans divebombing for their breakfast into the sun dappled water. In Minnesota, the view out of the windows while doing yoga is snow at minimum four months of the year. In Florida, the view out the windows while doing deep water fitness is palm trees and the garage door type windows are most often opened up, at least part way. In Minnesota, the view from the pool is snow at minimum four months of the year.
3. Publix is the predominant grocery store in Florida. Publix stores sell wine and beer right in the store. So does the grocery section of Target, for Pete's sake! Minnesota, not so much, although I understand the legislature may be righting this grievous wrong this session.
4. The sunshine. On average, there are 198 sunny days per year in Minneapolis. The US average is 205 sunny days. Minneapolis gets some kind of precipitation, on average, 112 days per year. Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater Metro Area, Florida gets some kind of precipitation, on average, 107 days per year. O inches of that is snow. On average, there are 238 sunny days per year in Tampa-St. Petersburg-Clearwater Metro Area. If you thrive on sunlight as I do, this is a factor to be given significant weight.
5. Minnesota: puffy coats and boots. Florida: shorts and bathing suits, maybe a cover up for the bathing suit, and flip flops. Although last week when it was in the low 60’s, I saw multiple people wearing the lightweight Florida version of the puffy coat, some adding a knit hat with a Pom Pom (part of the Minnesota uniform) and scarves.
6. Disney World; Universal Studios; Valleyfair; Busch Gardens; Sea World. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong. In Florida.
7. Time to myself. Look (which is the way all the political pundits begin their commentaries--Look...), I know how blessed I am and I give thanks every day for all that I am grateful for. When I retired, I wanted to have more time for myself. The research I've done for my Road Next Taken classes confirms that I'm not alone in this wish. Time for myself, not with friends or family, is usually the first response when impending retirees are asked what they hope for when they're not working any longer. In Minnesota, I have time for myself, frequently sandwiched among other regularly scheduled and some bulletin! activities. In Florida, the regular schedule includes time exercising and the rest sort of falls into line. Reading. Crossword puzzles. Blogging. Look (I was going to say frankly, but let's stick with Look), I miss my family and friends. (Just ask He Who Must Not Be Named how frequently I attempt to FaceTime them.) Many will come to spend time with us here (see #1) and as previously written, that's the primary reason why we come to Florida in the winter: my parents spent about 15 years, give or take a few, about a mile or so north of where we've been the last 4 years. Because of their generosity and love, we were able to save our children from the grasp of the North Winds for at least a week and immerse them in sun, sand, sea--and Grandma and Grandpa. The expression on their faces when they recall those days was enough to solidify for me and the Spousal Unit™ that replicating an escape from the Bold North was, indeed, an excellent idea. And it has proved to be that to the moon and back.
Look, time for myself. Time to revitalize, to breathe. To think about whatever crosses my mind, explore it as deeply or shallowly (Look, let's be honest about my brain capacity) as it feels right to do in the moment. To have the time to maintain, maybe even expand the gratitude practice I far too often struggle to follow which often gets sucked into the Polar Vortex because, as I said, Look, I have so much to be grateful for.
Look. Time for myself. To better appreciate the Spousal Unit™ and how our varying idiosyncrasies have become a symphony with each other--yes, a cacophany at times and as we have mutually mellowed into a space of comfort, acceptance, love, contentment peppered with why the hell does s/he do that--not do this, we're blessed with the company of each other. (It is Valentine's Day, after all.)
Look: time to simmer. How often we're brought to a quick boil and then left to mop up the dregs. Simmer is nice, slow, easy, peaceful.
Look! I get it! Everyone, at every stage in their lives, needs time for myself. In one of my classes this past year, a gentleman asked, "Where are the golden years? Remember those? The promise of sitting all day in the recliner, if you wanted that?"
We all have our version of that recliner, when we think about time for myself. Right now this is mine, and thank you, God, for the ocean. And the beach. The sunshine. Florida in February as opposed to Minnesota.
Thank you, Captain Obvious.
Minnesota sunset Florida sunset
No comparing the majesty of God's handiwork
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