Well at least it's not rain because surely the basement would be flooded and the roofs would be leaking. I wasn't in the mood to post during our 2026 Snowpocalypse but I'm pretty confident in saying we came in at 18 inches. This morning I woke up to more snow coming down with a threat of another storm hitting next week. I know it's good for the earth, and the fish, but enough already.
The grass isn't always greener but I did take a look to see how the weather was playing out down in Bluffton, South Carolina, where fingers crossed, we'll be calling home way more sooner than later. Here's what the week is looking like. And I like what I see.
Hey, I'm not complaining that we got some snow. It's Mother Nature. It's happens. But what I'm kinda done with is the feeling that winter's bring. I love the spring and fall, but can do without the summers and winters, especially when they're extreme. But it's during the winter, when everything I love mostly shuts down, that brings out the worst in not only me but a lot of us. What keeps us alive, like a blood transfusion, is the countdown to when the clocks move ahead and the change of season into spring occurs.
As of today we're five days away from the opening of striped bass in New Jersey's bays and rivers, and 39 days until Easter Sunday, and 89 days till Memorial Day weekend. And in 108 days I'll be joining my buds up on Martha's Vineyard. And hope fully around May 20th, in 84 days, we'll be putting the house on the market.
For some people winter brings on a case of Cabin Fever, for others, a more serious case of Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD. It's a diagnosis found in the American Psychiatric Association's DSM-V. It's s form of depression that occurs due to a reduced exposure to sunlight. Symptoms include persistent sadness, or depression, oversleeping, weight gain, and low energy, and not enjoying things you once did, or anhedonia. The changes in the circadian rhythms, which coincides with the clock changes, messes around with our serotonin and melatonin levels. So if you're a mess during these six months the sun may have something to do with it. That's why you might be doubling up on your Prozac or driving your therapist crazy.
Some folks go to Amazon to help their seasonal woes. Blue light therapy works when the user exposes themselves to the "blue light" usually in the morning for 15-30 minutes. It helps reset the bodies neurotransmitters and boosts serotonin (mood) and suppresses melatonin (sleep). The kicker is if you're a person with Bipolar Disorder it can activate your mood swings, so watch out. It would be like prescribing an antidepressant to some with Bipolar type 1, here we go again!
If you're a skier, snowboarder, or just a winterland lover then good for you, but the rest of us are suffering in silence while we put the winter 20 pounds on. When we're not trying to be productive we're camped in front of the TV binge watching something on one of the streaming services. We tried The Pitt, which you can't really binge watch, The Lincoln Lawyer, which we couldn't get into, before setting into Nurse Jackie. All the while eating anything and everything we can get out hands onto, and huddled up next to the wood stove, which has a voracious appetite for our dwindling firewood supply.
Going to work gives us a change of venue but the space heater placed next to the shower only does so much and those dreaded showers can occur with less regularity then when we're sweating in this big old house. And remember when you're out near Lambertville, or New Hope, or down in Cape May jealous of life in a big old 100 year old house, we freeze to death in the winter and sweat to death in the summers. Temperature control is very Bipolar like, instead of mood swings we have those temperature swings. But during those spring and fall windows our houses are just about as perfect as can be.
And if SAD doesn't hit you, it surely affects those you come into contact with. Coupled with the divisions we see in every aspect of life, peoples moods are just off during the winter months. Frustration, anger, less tolerance, nit-picky, is what we become. And tolerance is a big one especially as we get older. We don't want to deal, don't want to interact, we just want to be left alone.
The visions and dreams of a new start are palpable out here in Titusville. Yes, the grass isn't always greener and there's no perfect place, but as we tighten our lap belts for our descent into the last leg of this journey of life, something has to change. The routines of daily living aren't enough anymore, or they are too much. There's no more small kids as they're all adults and doing their own thing and finding their own paths. The idea that Titusville would be the family's anchor point isn't a reality anymore. And our families have addresses all over the United States- from Long Island, to Upstate New York, to Jersey, Texas, and Florida. Why should we be responsible to hold down the fort here in New Jersey?
Living here in Titusville, or any other address you may call home, thinking that your'e holding down the families fort, to me, seems delusional. Now, if you have that perfect Beaver Cleaver life, and one that I'm jealous of, then good for you. But if you're like the rest of us who have chosen, or been dealt the "Blended Family" life, then you know what I'm talking about. Long gone, at least for me, are the visions or reality that I'd maintain a home base with the kids within a short drive of the house. That would make for easy drop-bys, those delusional Sunday family dinners, watching the future grandkids, be within a short drive with a truck full of tools to holler out its projects, or the holiday get togethers. These days, straight forward or blended, family get togethers usually bring an attendance rate of 60-80%. Kids move out and on, so why can't we, the parents?
I'm dreaming of a new start, a new life. And I'll throw in that a new truck. But then I ask myself do I need a pick-up truck anymore? And how would my new neighbors like to see and hear my Sanford & Son half-homemade 2002 pick-up? My new life won't call for me having way too many tools, most I'll never use, and no need to take trips to the dump nor pickup mulch or topsoil for the beds or lawns. I'll just pay my monthly HOA fees and leave it to the experts. But my new ride will have to be able to tow around what will be my newly refurbished Jones Brothers 19'10" with four wheel drive to handle those low tides in and around the ramps of the Lowcountry. And it will be able to be cleaned out and up for Theresa and I to take a road trip and plant ourselves at one of our families or kids houses for an extended stay, if they like it our not.
I guess I'm tired of being a slave to the grind, to the taxes, and to the routine of daily life. These days, and I'd say it's the same for most 60-plusers, life is just moving too fast, and we're not getting any younger. I'm tired of tripping over our past lives every time I go down into the basement, up into the attic, or even into the closet. We just recently purged all of the clothes that don't fit, are out of whatever style we thought we had, and more shoes than Imelda Marcos had. And yes, I even had shoes that I couldn't find a second to. And holding on to every picture, project, and memory...later. While I have been eyeing up a 20 yard dumpster I'm planning on
going big and getting a 30-yarder dropped in the driveway. Outside of drop-offs at the local church thrift store and Facebook Marketplace listings I've come to the realization is nobody wants our shit, and moving it from room to room for a big Estate Sale is delusional. It doesn't pay to trip over stuff that brings us five dollars, that's even if someone buys it. I find it just keeps a crabs grip onto our old identities and from things in our past. And I have to remember when I croak, none of this will fit into the burner that will reduce my bloated body, well it won't be down in South Carolina because we have three gyms I will go to, to ashes.
In a big move I went though my beloved Pyrex collection. I packed away pieces I couldn't part with and made up sets for each of my family that wanted some. The rest was listed as a big lot on FBM which garnered over 2,500 clicks.
It was a young woman from Maryland who drove 3-1/2 hours last Friday night to claim her prize. She arrived at 11pm and felt like she had just scored the mother lode. While it was a little sad it felt good to release my Pyrex collection to someone who would appreciate all of the yard, garage, and estate sales I had hit over the years only buying pieces that were free of chips, scratches, and signs of use. Next up, my Lionel trains. These aren't your fathers Lionel trains, but your great grandfathers trains, as most of them are from the Pre-War ( WWII) years, like over 100 years old.
I either start or end each day on Zillow looking at the action down in Sun City Hilton Head. There's a few things I've learned. Being 735 miles away and dreaming of buying a place is just a dream, or a delusion, and we're further away from even that.
We watch as homes come to market only to be swallowed up by people who are more ready to make a move. They're ready in a financial way to buy before selling in their natal locations. For some it's a place they will one day move into, or, for others, they're down there with boots on the ground and a checking account full of money with a check that once written won't bounce. And then there's the flippers, yes, they have them down there as well.
Very often we'll see a place we like, even those that are a bit outdated, only to click on it later in the day or a few days after it's listed, to see a "pending" label in the corner of the picture. So, while torturous, spending time on Zillow keeps us motivated and hopeful. If things go right, some poor person's left ventricle is starting to act up and by the time we're ready...... well you know where I'm going.
So enjoy the coating of snow today, with more coming next week, and the dreams of picking up sticks in the yard in a month or two, and the deluge of traffic that comes with living in and around New Jersey. Soon you'll be driving around looking to feed the meter at your favorite Jersey Shore town and eatery, while all the while just trying to take a break from the old life you hang onto, while the candles and Christmas decorations melt up in your attic.
We tell our kids to "Get out of here" and live life. So why don't we take our own advice?