Blood Sucker

We did buy some beach towels and hit the beach yesterday. When we pulled up, we noticed the Blood Mobile, which has been moving around the city for the past couple of weeks. I decided to go ahead and give some up (Michael didn't want to miss out on the sun). I'm O-, a universal donor, meaning anyone can use my blood if needed, but I can only accept my own type (which only 7% of Americans have), so I have to keep my mom on standby just in case (or vice versa!). I've only donated blood twice, and one of those times was to myself for an operation because the hospital had a shortage of O-.  Plus, it was nice to know I was giving myself my own cooties.

Yesterday it seemed it was "universal donor" day for the blood collectors because they had 4 of us "rare" folks in there. One of the donors asked how long our blood would last once in a baggie, and the technician said O- never sits on a shelf. That's good to know; you hate to think it'll just go "bad" and be tossed. It's also nice to know Key West seems to have a pretty high population of us in case something happens. With nothing better to do, three of us tied to wires and bags (me under 2 blankets - it was cold in there!) started racing to see who could dump their blood faster. I came in 3rd by 3 seconds. When it was all said and done, we got a nifty t-shirt and a colorful bandage - mine with a pretty bow on it.

Who Put The Heat On?

Ok, that's better. Now we're hot. I don't know what it was about those two cold days, but the second day I could not warm up. I had layers of clothes on in the apartment, topped by a bathrobe, not to mention 2 pairs of socks (including thick ones for hiking) and slippers and still ended up having to drink hot tea to finally get my core temp to come back from that of a cadaver. When I say I don't like (or can't handle) the cold, I really mean it. Thankfully, the cold snap didn't last long and we're back into the 80s. From electric blanket to ceiling fans.

Sorry the blog's been sort of a dud lately, Michael & I have been pretty busy work-wise for the past couple of weeks. It occurred to me Saturday morning that I had not left the house in two weeks. I'm not kidding. Lest someone accuse me of suffering from agoraphobia, I thought I should get outside for a bit. So, how did I spend my first excursion? Walking through the cemetery. Some of you might know that February is Black History month. While it's hard to top Mississippi's abolishment of slavery 148 years after every other state did, the Historic Florida Keys Foundation and Friends of the the Key West Historic Cemetery were nice enough to give free tours through the Key West Cemetery to introduce us to some interesting historical Key West characters.

Odd

After doing those Toronto presentations, I now have a new appreciation for people who battle their own nerves to enlighten us. Thanks guys! We got there just in time for the last tour (the write-up had said "all day" but what it meant was "last tour leaves at 10am") and had a good time (well, except when planes flew overhead every few minutes drowning out the lectures - yes, it's becoming a pet peeve. I can't wait for the Blue Angels to start practicing for the air show in late March - not!). We went from umbrella to umbrella (grave to grave) and learned a lot about Key West and nine people who helped make it what it is today.

Who Left the Freezer Open?!

Brrrr!

I'm pretty sure I'm close to being able to do this.

I love Jiffy, I'd be setting fires all the
 time for the popcorn shower.

     We survived a rainy day Friday and figured that the rain and dropping temps would keep away any early a.m. drunken visits. This was true, but we did have our neighbor come home just after midnight and need her some music. Loud. When the music first came on, Michael & I looked at each other and asked, "What is that?!" We were convinced that the words weren't English. Forced to continue to listen, however, I was able to figure out that, not only was the song in American, but the sad, twangy man was informing us about his house and his car...and something about his backyard. Michael couldn't figure out how I had deduced this and was in adoring awe of me (you know, as usual).

True Love

So you know what we did for Valentine's Day? We played "girlfriends." Michael & I have been friends a very long time. In college, we'd laugh, complain, or play jokes on each other's girlfriends/boyfriends (and then hide from them). We would do the dumbest stuff together. Nothing's changed (well except for the fact that we married each other). I still tend to have more guy friends than gal, which becomes a problem when I have the occasional girly urge. I didn't pluck my eyebrows until I was 30. Too scared to do it myself the 1st time, I handed Michael a how-to magazine article and a pair of tweezers and told him to start yanking. The occasional changing of the hair also involves moral support. Of course, I can do it myself, but sometimes it's nice to have backup when you need it. Enter Mikey.

I'm one of the 2-4% of humans on the planet "blessed" with red hair (apparently a viking trait - no I'm not Irish). I like to call it strawberry blonde, but there's way more strawberry than blonde. I got made fun of when I was a kid in school, got asked if my carpet matched my drapes as an adult, and now just feel old. I usually like bucking trends/traditions, but my hair tends to become multi-colored (copper, mahogany, blonde, white) and actually looks like a bad dye job. Every once in a while, I end up coloring it just to make it look "natural." Unfortunately, red turns out be the hardest color to dye if you want a change. Anyone who colors their hair red on purpose be warned - Google it!

Hallmark Thursday

Happy Valentine's Day to those who celebrate it. I think this day is silly, so Michael's always been off the hook. I can be romantic and so can Michael, but we eat chocolate year-round and get flowers when we feel like it. Since this is supposed to be a day for lovers, I've really never understood the drift that's taken place where just about everyone gives everyone else a card as if it's a popularity contest. Even parents give their kids one (eew).

We're the kind of couple that realize it's our anniversary after seeing a card in the grocery store, so pick a card out of the display, swap, read, and put it back. It's so bad that I used our anniversary date on a password for something and later realized it was the wrong date. Michael had no problem getting into the website though because had the exact same wrong day in his mind. And that's why we work.

I was curious as to whether this frivolousness was just a US/European thing, so started checking into it (most of the below comes from Wikipedia). It turns out it was just a Western celebration until marketers started pushing it elsewhere (now that's romantic).

Rays!

Our skin doesn't know what hit it. We haven't been in our bathing suits in 5 months. We've gotten a little pale. I have to admit it felt reeaaaalllly good to pinken up a bit. I think we need to invest in beach towels or reclining chairs though.






While soaking up some rays, we eventually heard some shooting and went to take a look at the civil war reenactment at the fort.

3 for 3

So Friday night we managed to get through the whole night without having a drunken stranger walk through our house.  Saturday, the wife of one of Michael's co-workers threw a surprise party for her hubby and wanted us to act as the catalyst to get him there. Scott is getting ready to hit one of those birthdays with a year ending in zero and is not happy about it. We're just glad that we have a couple more years before we're staring down that number too. The shebang started at the Conch Republic Seafood Co. and we got a good laugh when we discovered that Paula had asked a friend to dress up as the grim reaper. Now that's just cruel.

I love the look on the face of the guy on the right.

After a couple of drinks, we headed over to the Sunset Cafe. It turned out a wedding reception was happening out on the pier, and the bride and groom had just arrived. We really wanted to have the grim reaper sneak into one of the many pictures a photographer was taking of the happy couple, but I don't think it happened.

Caribbean vs States

It turns out we didn't do anything over the weekend. That's not always a bad thing; to me nothing is still something, but I have to admit we're bored. We couldn't even figure out somewhere to just take a walk. We ended up reading on our deck. Money's tight for us right now, so that is rather limiting; and without anyplace to hike, which was always my de-stresser, we're unsuccessfully fumbling for a replacement.

I'm going to take this opportunity to address a few reader questions I've gotten. Some of you might be surprised to learn how hard it is to return to your own country (wherever it is) once you've been out and about for awhile. In August when we realized we had to leave St. Kitts thanks to austerity measures implemented by Michael's employer, we decided to accept an offer to try Key West on for size. When we left the U.S. seven years ago, we had no intention of returning (other than visits). The world is a big place. We really wanted to participate in other cultures and see countries in ways that you just can't experience while on vacation. In particular, we were hoping to find a place that had 80+-degree temperatures year-round, had great hiking, beautiful beaches, warm/clean water to play in, friendly people, and views we could enjoy from our home balcony. And a place we could earn income in some way. We planned on a two- to four-year sail; then a five-year experience on a Caribbean island while we saved up for the next hop; and then thought we'd leap to the Pacific to see what was over there (knowing it was cheaper). Of course, plan is a four-letter word, and by its vary definition; plans change.

An Uninvited Guest

So this Saturday, I'm stumbling around in a lack-of-sleep stupor because we had more Friday night fun. You'll recall that last Friday we dealt with snoring beyond our wall that would have woke the dead (meaning it did wake up Michael). This time, we had a drunk walk right into our house. So in the past 6 months, our home has been breached twice by strangers - the first time in St. Kitts and the other here. Nifty.

I am a very light sleeper. I can even tell when Michael's breathing changes. I sort of snooze through the night. Sure I'm exhausted all the time, but it's worked out a couple of times; like this last night. At 2 a.m. this morning, when I heard someone sneaking up the stairs and then heard our door knob jiggle, I thought - Oh no, not again. Two weekends in a row (three really)? %$*!  I opened my eyes and was dumbfounded when someone walked right past our bedroom's sliding doors. Our bedroom has two entrances: a door on the "real" wall, leading into the living room; and a "fake" wall made of two sliding doors that lead to the entry hallway. The doors were slightly open, and I watched a man walk toward the living room. Crap.