Assignment from my Therapist

December 20, 2024

Watching Bill go through the various stages of dementia is heartbreaking. In fact, I spend a good portion of my time in therapy crying about it. My therapist suggested I write about how I feel as a form of processing. So here goes . . .

At our age, arthritis is part of life; but, Bill doesn't understand that. He's always had an extremely low tolerance for pain, and he's also allergic to most pain medications. He doesn't understand why he hurts and why we can't make it go away. I feel heartbroken.

Bill is visually impaired with no central vision, so he continually asks for an appointment with the eye doctor. He doesn't understand that we've been there many times, and they've done everything they can to "fix" his eye. He just wants glasses so he can see. I feel incompetent.

Bill's reality continues to slip further away as the disease progresses, despite changes in medication. Some days when I visit, he tells me he is a famous star, and he's being hunted by paparazzi. Other days, he's working on imaginary jobs and having trouble with his "staff." He thinks people are out to get him and he's frightened. I feel powerless. 

He's overweight, his legs no longer work, and he's stuck in a wheelchair. He can't lift himself, so he has to be lifted by a machine to get out of bed or go to the bathroom. I hate hearing him cry out, "It hurts; it hurts" as they turn the wheel to get him upright. Why can't they make a better way to get him up and down? It reminds me of cattle strung up to be butchered. I feel angry.

The VA facility where Bill resides is excellent. It's spacious, super clean, and staffed better than most nursing homes. However, visiting Bill there still offers a grim preview of his future—a future I’m helpless to change. In the two years he's been there, I've watched residents in various stages of the disease come and go. Every week, I see visitors gently trying to coax their loved ones to eat, offering meals of lifeless, gray mush—meat and vegetables blended into a flavorless paste to avoid aspiration. I see residents slumped over in their wheelchairs, sleeping for hours at a time. The staff encourages them to move, to catch a ball, to sing a song, or to color on a sheet of paper. But they just keep sleeping . . .  I feel frightened.

Why can’t there be an easier way? We don't let our pets go through this. I wouldn’t let my dog, Oreo, suffer like this, but I can’t stop Bill from going through it. And if I could, would I make that decision? To end his life? It’s agonizing enough to make that decision for an animal. But, for my husband? I don’t think I could. I feel spineless . . .

Missing Connections

December 17, 2024

As I was walking Oreo this morning, I snapped this picture of the fog blanketing Galveston. One building caught my eye – just barely peeking out of the dense mist surrounding it. The scene reminded me of how I’ve been feeling lately . . . disconnected, adrift, unseen.

I’m not having a great week. I don’t want to go see Bill. I want to forget I'm married. I want to pretend I'm a normal 75-year-old widow trying to live out the rest of my life. But I can't.

My therapist says I'm searching for "connection." And it’s true. Like the building in that photo, my connection to Bill feels severed but not completely. It’s like an electric cord that has been chewed on by rodents. It sparks now and then, but no electricity runs through. I'm desperately searching for a source of "power,” but all I find is emptiness. 

Some days, this emotional roller coaster feels unbearable, other days not so much. Today, I’m feeling angry, sad, and guilty, as well as mad at myself and feeling very ungrateful. Eventually, I’ll get over it and act “normal,” whatever that means.

In the meantime, I need to figure out how to get my “power" back, despite the circumstances. Back to my therapist! Until then, I'll sit at my piano. Like David playing for Saul, I’ll play to soothe my restless, tormented soul. 

Increasing Bill's Rx

Bill has been getting more and more agitated and paranoid these last two months. I was planning to talk to the staff tomorrow to ask them if it's time to adjust his meds again. However, I just now got a phone call from them. The psychiatrist saw Bill today and has decided it's time to up Bill’s Rx, again.

I'm so glad they are on top of it. I have been struggling watching him get more and more agitated the last few weeks. His ramblings have gotten wilder and wilder from paparazzi coming after him to looking for missing children. He's also gotten into verbal tussles which have almost ended in a physical fight, had the nurses not intervened. This is the kind of behavior that put him in the psych ward last year. 

I'm so thankful for the VA Memory Care. How would I do this without them? I am so lucky to have this service. My heart just breaks for all the spouses (and children) out there who are taking care of their loved ones with Dementia and do not have the means to obtain help. We have got to find a solution . . .

Pearl Harbor Remembered, An Interview With my Father, James Luther Edwards

On this day, the anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack on December 7, 1941, I wanted to share an interview with my dad, who was stationed there during the bombing. This interview was originally published by the Delaware State News in 1985. My dad passed away in 2005. 

It begins like this:

"It was early in the morning on Dec. 7, 1941. James L Edwards, then a 28-year-old soldier stationed just outside of Pearl Harbor with the 65th Combat Engineers, decided to go for a swim."

Two Years and Counting . . .

This month, Bill has been in memory care for two years! I can't believe it's been that long. We had a "good" day today. He was glad to see me and very happy that I brought him homemade lasagna! We had a nice visit and he was mostly aware of what was going on. He did really good in exercise class with his arms; his legs, no.

I actually got to see them use the lift on him, today. I had never seen it in action before. They roll him up to it, fasten a belt-like thing (which is hooked to the machine) around his back, and then turn it on. The machine does the work. Because he is such a big man, no one can help him get up and down now. You can see the machine - it's the blue piece of equipment.

The sad thing is, that with arthritis in his knees and hips, it hurts him when the machine pulls him up. So he began yelling, "ouch, ouch, ouch" as it pulled him up. I know it's a necessity, but it was so sad to see him like that. Hateful disease . . .

Living the Life I was meant to live! (almost)

I finally feel like my life is what I envisioned it to be as a "retired" person. I know Bill is being taken care of, so I'm not currently worried about him. It's one day at a time on that one. 

Yesterday, my son, Wil, created an Ai program to try to get Bill to talk more about the life he currently remembers which is the 60s and 70s; maybe some 80s. It was amazing to watch. In 30 minutes, Wil whipped up a simple Ai that he programmed with lots of info about ROTC, Ft. Wolters and Ft Rucker helicopter school, and Vietnam. Then he directed the Ai to use the info to engage Bill in conversation. It definitely had some flaws (interrupted when it shouldn't and focused two much on certain questions), but it was mostly successful. Because of the way it was programmed, it asked questions that we would never had thought of, resulting in Bill talking about a portion of his life that we had never heard before. Wil said he would correct the flaws in a future version and try again over Christmas.  

At home, I'm happily situated in a small town with good people in an apartment that I enjoy. Oreo and I are getting lots of good exercise and fresh air. The new gym is fantastic! I set a goal to work out in it 2x a week so it's an easy goal to keep. 

 

Oreo and I enjoy the view in the morning whether it's the birds in air, the boats scooting around in the water, or the cruise ships docking. 

I even changed my Facebook page to reflect my new life. I want to feel more positive.

So, for now, life is good. I'm going to enjoy it while I can! 

Keeping Busy

One way I stay grounded is by keeping busy. I take classes at OLLI, including water aerobics, yoga, cribbage, canasta, and cooking. I also take piano lessons and meet with my writer friends once a week to write. Now that I have my new apartment with space for crafting, I’ve started working on art projects again. I also enjoy going out with friends to the symphony, plays, shopping, and other local events.  

 

You’d think with all this activity, I wouldn’t have time to feel sad—but I do.  

 

I love my classes. I cherish time with my friends. I thrive on the busy-ness, but it doesn’t quiet the longing in my heart—for someone to love, to share life with, to be a couple again.  

 

Yesterday, I started reading “One Woman’s Men: Fathers, Brother, Friends, and Lovers” by Sharon Goodwin. The description on Amazon captures it perfectly:  

 

"Each verse tells a story of love, loss, and longing—celebrating the nurturing bond with her father, the shared memories of her brother, and the fleeting yet profound connections with friends and lovers. With unflinching honesty and raw emotion, Sharon captures what it means to be a daughter, sister, friend, and lover, embracing both the beauty and the heartache of these relationships with striking clarity and innocence."  

As I read these poems, I’m struck by how much we, as “widows in waiting,” have in common with those who live with a chronic disease. For those of you following my blog and navigating the emotional complexities of being alone but not alone, I highly recommend this book. It won’t fix anything, but it reminded me that I’m not truly alone—I have sisters out there who understand.  

More complaining . . .

I'm going to talk to my therapist tomorrow about dating. I am so tired of being alone. I've been taking care of my husband since 2008; he's been in care home for 2 years. I just want to have a boyfriend. Is that so wrong? I want to go out and enjoy times with a guy, not just as friends, but as potential partners. But how is that even possible when I'm married? I feel like Heathcliff in Charlotte Bronte's Wuthering Heights! I probably won't do anything about this, but it's fun to pretend I will! At least when I'm done crying about it.

I did get on a dating site, but never did anything with it. Such is the life of a long-time caregiver . . .

Later: I did some analyzing of why I feel this way. Here why:

• I want a partner that I can depend on - someone who will be there when I need them and I can be there for them

• I want someone who I can call mine -we’re a team, a couple

• I want to go out on a date with them and feel good about going out - tell the world I’m going out and not feel awful about it

• I want someone I can call anytime and chat

• I don’t want a live-in arrangement

• I don’t want to remarry

• I may want some affection and to give affection - TBD

After reading my reasons, I see there is no way to fulfill all of them. The truth of the matter is that I'm trapped. I don't resent my husband for this; but I resent societal pressures that make me feel that I cannot do this with a clear conscience. At least at this time of my life. . .

Baffled . . .

Today has been a bizarre and emotionally stressful day. If you’ve stumbled upon this post, feel free to skip it. I’m only writing it to process everything swimming around in my head. 

It began with my drive up to Houston to see Bill, this time in a rental car. Some “wonderful” person back at my previous apt. decided to key the whole left side of my car, leaving gouges deep enough to rust. I couldn’t ignore them, so off it went to a body shop, and USAA set me up with a rental car to use in the meantime. 

 

When I got to Houston, I found Bill more talkative than he’s been the last few visits. While he still asks the same few questions every 15 minutes or so, I was happy to see he was more alert. His mind, however, was rooted in the 60’s and 70’s, asking about doctors and dentists who passed away decades ago. As usual, he asked about Wil and Shelly and our animals; sometimes using their names, sometimes not. But then things got a little bizarre. 

 

For the past few weeks, he’s been asking about a 3^rd and sometimes a 4^th child. “The ones we recently found,” he says. I always say they’re ok, hoping he’ll move on; but today, he was fixated. He doesn’t remember their names, who their mother is, where they live, or much of anything else other than he thinks it might have happened when we were having a rough patch in our marriage in the 70s.  

 

Then he very looked at me very seriously and said, “I need you to do something for me. I want to have a meeting, maybe go out to dinner with you, Wil and Shelly, and the other kids I must have had when I was messed up. I want to apologize to all of them for being a terrible dad.”  

 

After a moment of silence, I agreed, again hoping the topic would change, but it continued to circle back until I got a phone call from my car rental saying my car was due back today. USAA was only paying until today, but my repairs won’t be finished for another week. Of course, when I tried to call USAA, all I could get was automated robots or an answering machine that promised the correct person would “get back to me within 24 hours.” I decided to go home. Too much drama. 

 

On the drive back, my mind kept spinning around this idea of “other kids.” Could Bill really have kids I don’t know about? Why is it coming out now? Did they contact him? How? What am I supposed to do with this information? Do I even want to know? Not really. 

 

Or is it all in his imagination – something stirred up by a story from a fellow resident? I mean, he did claim to be an explosive expert a few weeks ago, so there’s that!  

 

It’s all baffling and a bit unsettling . . . 

On a More Positive Note . . .

On a more positive note, I have begun to do some crafting again in my beautiful new apartment. I now have a room JUST for crafting! It's glorious! 

Last week, I made a birthday card for, Debbie, my friend who loves birds. It turned out perfect! 

Now, I'm working on two more birthday cards. A lot of birthdays this month! 

It feels good to be creative AND to have a place to be creative in! Here's the view I have from my window! 

You can see the pool - they just filled it in yesterday! There's also a pickleball court, a cookout area, and a fire pit area. I can't wait until they open it up! 

Where's Bill?

Remember the 'Where's Wally?' puzzle the kids used to play? That's how it feels when I'm with Bill - it's like I'm searching for pieces of him in a maze of confusion. 

Bill is getting more distant, more confused, and less aware that I am with him. The conversation, today, consisted of four questions he repeated over and over again. How are you? How are the kids? How are the animals? How are the other kids? He keeps insisting we have more children than we have! Today, he thought we had four. 

After I tell him that I’m fine, Oreo is fine, and ALL of the “four” kids are fine, he drifts off for a while. Then, the same questions return, over and over and over again. This repetition is not new, but that fact that he has no other interest in any other topic is new.

 

I tried to take him for a walk around the complex; but, as soon as we got out of the locked unit, he suddenly needed the bathroom. I can't handle him myself, so I had to take him back and get help. After that, we just stayed in his POD. I had a meeting with the medical staff where they give me an update on his treatment, medication, etc. There’s nothing they can do other than try to keep him comfortable. 

Today was too depressing to stay very long. I stayed for a two hours, then left.  

 

I used to enjoy these visits, taking him out for a drive or a meal, even if he was confused. At least he was present, aware of his surroundings, curious. These last two weeks have been different. It’s like he’s no longer there. His spark is gone. The voice is still familiar, but the man I knew is slipping further away each and every day. I hate this disease. . . 

Great News!

 

Wallowing . . .

Why is it that I can keep myself so busy, yet feel so profoundly lonely? My therapist encouraged me today, "Stay busy. Do things for yourself. Live your life." And I do, but there's still this hollow ache inside, a nagging voice that whispers, “You’re all by yourself. You have no one. You’re lonely.” 

Am I wallowing in self-pity? It definitely appears that way, at times. After all, I have so much to be thankful for that other caregivers do not. I have children who care about me, a network of wonderful friends who encourage me, and the luxury of time to care for myself; to keep myself healthy, physically fit, and mentally alert. Financially, I’m comfortable. There’s no bill collector at my door. I have everything I need and more. And my every waking hour isn’t devoted to my husband’s needs. Someone else is taking care of him. I only get to do the “fun” stuff. Yet, whenever I come home at the end of the day, after a whirlwind of activity, I feel this unmistakable slump.

 

My home greets me with silence; the kind of silence that presses down like an iron pillow. Suffocating the "light" out of me. There are no sounds echoing between my four walls, but my own voice as I catch myself talking to Oreo, or even to myself, hoping to fill the empty space. The only footsteps I hear are mine, as I wander from room to room, listening to the tap, tap, tap of my steps on the white pine floor. Perhaps if I walk long enough, I'll convince myself I’m not alone.

 

I wish I could explain these feelings, even to myself. It doesn’t make sense, especially after a full day. I’ve been to breakfast with friends, spent time writing with friends, and even laughed with friends over a game of pinocle. I came home, took Oreo over to the park for a long, brisk walk, and snacked on sharp cheese and fresh grapes. Good friends, good food, and good exercise. What could be missing?

It's been nearly two years since Bill moved into a care home, and "Father Time" continues to tick by, both quickly and slowly, all at once. But the feeling of loneliness lingers on. It’s like I’m waiting . . . but waiting for what? Am I waiting for news that he’s improved? That’s unrealistic. Am I waiting to hear that he’s had a good day? That’s always good news. Or am I waiting to hear that’s he’s declined and only has a short time left? Could I be so callous that I’m willing to rush the inevitable just so I can move on. The thought definitely lurks in the background of my mind, if I’m honest. And that makes me feel terrible.

 

This cycle of emotions I ride every day is exhausting. It’s like an elevator ride from the basement to the 105^thfloor, then back down again, over and over. Mostly I live somewhere in between, but the ups and downs wear me out. I’m so tired of it all. I want it to end. I want the lonely to go away. . . 

 

I shake myself off, tell myself to “put on my big girl panties,” and keep plugging away. "I do have a good life. I’m not really lonely. It's only in my head," I tell myself. "I can do this, can’t I?" 

My rational mind answers, "Yes, you can, because you have no choice. . .  That's the harsh reality of this disease called, Dementia."

Fun with My Rebel Friends at Shelly's Parade Event

Today was an absolutely blast! Shelly made her debut in her very first Galveston parade with her decked-out Jeep, and she asked me to take some photos. So, I put out a call on Facebook, asking for a few friends to join me. Carol, Bev, and Susan were up for it; and, wow, did we have fun! 

 

The day started bright and early with everyone meeting at my place at 8 a.m. so they could tour my new space. From there, we headed over to Galveston Bagel for breakfast. Our next stop was the Library, where we explored their museum and got to chat with some Navy Lieutenants giving a “show and tell” on the Constitution and oceanographic equipment. They even handed out goodies, including this clever little pen that doubles as a screwdriver and level! Super geeky! 

Afterward, we made our way to where Shelly and her friends, Larry and Colleen, were lining up for the parade. We snapped some photos of them prepping for the parade. 

 

Here you can see the new grill Shelly installed that look like teeth! 

We then stopped and chatting with some of the other parade participants, including this group of dancers.

Then, with an hour until the parade kicked off, we decided to go shopping. In and out of stores we went, all along Strand Street, most of which I had never been in before. I bought some jewelry and a mug. Then we sat and chatted while we waited for the parade to get to us. Shelly's jeep stole the show, of course! 

(Sorry for the dropped video in middle - I don't know how to edit!)

When the parade wrapped up, we resumed our shopping spree—but not before stopping by LaKing’s for ice cream, which we all agreed was lunch! We wrapped up our day around 3 p.m.

 

I loved getting to know these gals better! I'd known them from UU, but we’d never just hung out. Spending time with them today was a revelation—Susan, Bev, and Carol have a serious streak of adventure (and a touch of rebellion!). They even “encouraged” me to jaywalk and pull a U-turn right in the middle of the street! But, turns out, even these strong Texas women have their limits. They refused to let me make a left on Holiday Drive at a red light when I hadn’t noticed the green light was only for going straight! 😂

 

I can’t wait to see what kind of mischief we get into next!

Visit to Houston - A Good One

I missed visiting Bill last week because of the move, so I was anxious to get up to Houston to see him. My goal this visit was to take him to Fall Festival as his "escape out of the building," but I got the wrong time, again! Instead, I took him outside for a walk, got him a coke, and watched him do his exercises. Today's exercises were a bit different than I've seen before. He seems to enjoy doing them, and it keeps him moving some.

This is a kick the ball exercise.

This exercise involves throwing the ball at the paddle.

Physically, he's getting much weaker, especially in his lower extremities. In fact, they are getting him some kind of lift for getting in and out of bed, bathing, and toileting. He's a big man and trying to get him up and down is impossible for most people. It makes me sad he cannot walk anymore, especially as it indicates that he is most likely progressing towards another stage of the disease.

Bill's mood was good, which does make me happy. He has fully adjusted to being there, but he's still glad to see me when I come. And he still knows who I am! However, he is very confused about most everything else. Today, he told his lunch table mate that he has been at "this place" (the VA care home) for two months! In fact, it's been almost two years. I'm glad he thinks it's only two months. He apparently has no concept of time, which makes me feel better when I don't get up to see him as often as I would like. 

After asking about the kids and Oreo, he asked about our "other daughter." When I acted confused, he explained that she's the one we got since he has been in the care home. I have no idea who he is talking about, but my guess is that someone there seems like a daughter to him. So I now have another daughter! I'll have to find out who she is! '

The other thing he said that is mind boggling is that he believes we "won" this "vacation" in a lottery or contest of some kind. He even asked me, "Would you do this again?" I said no and he agreed. But he's determined to finish it out. The food is not so good anymore, he says. I actually thought it was better today. He's beginning to lose some of his taste buds, and the only thing he really likes to eat now is ice cream and sweets. 

All in all, it was a good day. I came home content that he was happy and being cared for. What more could I ask?

At the End Zone!

All the major areas of my apartment now look presentable. Today, I finished the craft room, or at least as much as I can for now. I still need to finish organizing everything, but I'll need to wait on that. 

The only big hurdles left are the closets. They are a disaster! Everything I couldn't figure out what to do with is in there, just piled on top of everything else. I'll get to that next week. 

Also today, Shelly helped me get the remainder of the unwanted items out of my old apartment. Now all I have to do is get it cleaned, hand in the keys, and pay my final bill. Then no more LONG RIDES to the west end! LOL! 

Tomorrow, I'm doing nothing on my apartment. I'm going to take a break from that stuff and visit Bill. They're having a Fall Festival so he'll enjoy that. 

Day 2-7 of my Move . . .

It's been a few days since my last post for good reason. It has been a whirlwind of moving furniture, getting utilities set up, unpacking boxes, and trying to figure out where everything belongs. But, today, I'm mostly settled in my new apartment. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room are livable and mostly decorated. The rest of the place - the 2nd bedroom and closets, not so much!

 

The move itself went smoothly, if not a bit long. Oreo was not happy and was glad when it was over. I have to do a shoutout to Manuel's Moving. They are excellent. Nothing broken. Friendly. And they give you a firm price. No second guessing at the end. I highly recommend them. 

Oreo, "Are we done, yet?"

On this end, it's still a bit chaotic. Only one wing of the complex is open, so there’s construction everywhere. That's why I got three months at 1/2 rent! From my patio, I can see the progress as they plant trees and flowers, install outdoor kitchens, lights, and other décor. Even though the courtyard is a work in progress, it’s already beautiful! In fact, my favorite part of the day is early morning, before the sun comes up. I sit outside on my patio with Oreo in her bed and a cup of coffee in hand, watching the palm trees sway and the lights twinkle over the pickleball court. 

Once the pickleball playing starts, the noises will change, especially with the courtyard being surrounded by walls! But it will be happy sounds, and they have to quit at 10 p.m. Hopefully, I will do as I did when I first moved into the University of Delaware. My dorm was next to a railroad track. I woke up the first night and never heard it since. 

 

Speaking of sounds, my piano has never sounded better. The high ceilings in these apartments - maybe 9 or 10 feet - give it incredible acoustics! Plus, I’m near the cruise line terminal; so, occasionally, I hear the cheerful horn of a docked ship. The wind chimes on my patio add their own special melodies, making this space feel like a personal retreat. On Friday, I bought a dining set and two rockers for the patio, so I could not only "rock" with a guest, but also enjoy meals with friends outside. Finally, I can do some entertaining again!

Oreo is thrilled with the extra space! I’ve upgraded from 725 square feet to 1200, so she has plenty of room to run around and chase her ball. She’s also a fan of the park next door, which is teaming with squirrels. Now, she can do her “big game hunting” again, something she wasn't able to do where we were before. 

           

  

Another thing I love about my new place is driving up to the third floor of the parking garage. From there, I have a perfect view of the Galveston Channel, with ships sailing in and out, and plenty of sea birds soaring by, looking for their latest meal. 

I wish Bill could share in the beauty of this place, but sadly, that’s no longer possible. It’s a bittersweet reminder as I settle in. However, for the first time since we left our home in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, back in 2017, I’m finally beginning to feel like I’m home again. It’s been a long road, but life is finally getting back to a new kind of "normal."

Day 1 of the New Apartment

Today, is DAY ONE of my move to my new apartment! 

Bill and I moved to Galveston in 2021 to be near our daughter, Shelly. We settled into a two-bedroom apartment not far from her, but when I had to place Bill in a nursing home, my budget couldn’t stretch to cover that space anymore. So, I downsized to a small, 725-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment on the western side of Galveston. This place was far from perfect—tiny, run-down, hurricane-damaged, bad HVAC, and barely holding together. It wasn’t ideal, but it got me through a tough time. 

Now that Bill is in the VA memory care, my budget has stabilized, so I decided it was time for an upgrade. My goal? To find a "forever home"—as forever as anything can be in hurricane territory—somewhere close to Shelly, who lives in the midtown area, and near the places where I spend most of my time, like OLLI and UU.

While I was searching, I came across a brand-new complex called The Cove at Galveston Yacht Basin. It was so new they weren’t even giving tours yet, but I knew this was the right spot for me. In August, I put down a deposit to snag my ideal apartment, making sure it had all the features I wanted: morning sun, a higher floor for flood safety, and a nice view. The complex officially opened last month, and I’m moving in this week!

My new place is 1200 square feet, on the 3rd floor, and overlooks a courtyard with a pool, cabanas, grills, and even a pickleball court. Maybe I’ll give pickleball another try! The convenience of this apartment is hard to beat: I can either take the elevator up or drive up to the third story of the attached parking garage and walk straight into my place. For Oreo potty breaks, I can take the 3-story stairs for more exercise! 

Here’s a fun fact—I calculated that, thanks to less traffic and central location, I’ll save about seven hours a week in travel time! That’s seven more hours to do what I love - crafting, playing my keyboard, and hanging out with friends. In the map below, you can see where I'm located on the island, where Shelly is located and where my new apartment is. The blue dot on the bottom left marks my old place.

The shipping channel and the Gulf surround this area, making it scenic and peaceful. Downtown is just a short drive (or walk) away, there’s a park across the street, with squirrels for Oreo, and everything I enjoy—like OLLI and UU—is within a mile. The ferry to Bolivar is nearby too, so Oreo and I will have plenty of places to explore on our walks.

I chose an interior unit facing the courtyard, with a view of palm trees, the pool, and the pickleball court. The exterior units didn’t have what I wanted, plus I figure this spot gives me a little more protection from hurricanes. Fingers crossed, right? 

My apartment layout below. The 2nd BR will be my crafting room. My piano will be in living room as the centerpiece - I'm determined to give a concert someday! Haha!  

Today, I'll be getting internet installed and taking over my clothes, some food, a chair or two, and one of Oreo's beds. Then back here to pack some more. I'll post some more as the week goes by.