It was going to happen. Eventually.
Doesn’t everyone end up in Florida to retire? To ease the pedal from the metal? Chill out? Have F-U-N?
After living almost my entire life in Southern California, I moved to Northeast Florida in December. My new nest is in Ponte Vedra— a small beach town located a stone’s throw north of St. Augustine on Florida’s First Coast.
I now realize that this is college football country.
Actually, I have always known that. But moving here validated my suspicions. Okay, not suspicions. I knew this was college football country but hated to admit it.
Happy now?
College football is King in Florida.
And I’m here for it all. Finally.
An observation: more Floridian automobiles than not have either Central Florida, Florida, Florida State, South Florida or Miami license plate frames. Sprinkle in Ohio State, Georgia, South Carolina and (of course) Alabama license plate frames and you have about 60 percent of all cars in this state pledging their allegiances to an institute of higher learning. Or a football factory.
Semantics, I know. [shrugs]
This state loves discussing college football. And not just in the fall.
Floridians are already talking about who has the toughest schedules, the easiest schedules, which coaches are on the hot seat, who will suck this year, who will get screwed this year, should Clemson and Florida State leave the ACC and will Texas and Oklahoma have a rude awakening in the SEC?
Answers: USC and UCLA aka Death Star fodder, UNC and Missouri (want some milk with those cupcakes?), Billy Napier aka Florida Man, Alabama and UCLA (does this really need explaining?), Notre Dame (it is always the correct answer every year, isn’t it Irish fans?), yes… and hell yes.
Yes, I reassure my Floridian brethren, Florida State got screwed.
Nope, the Selection Committee should never choose playoff teams based on assumptions or hypotheticals. Yes, a team’s resume should be the sole basis for playoff consideration. No, subjective analysis should never outweigh objective analysis. No, I do not have a handkerchief on which you can cry.
Yes, I will make sure to tell everyone I know that Florida State got screwed.
Also, no, USC is not University of South Carolina.
I am taking about football again. And I am smiling.
The Georgia v Florida game in Jacksonville is enticing. The game is less than an hour from my home, I can prep my liver in October and (a bonus!) the humidity will be significantly less in November.
Won’t it?
A word about weather here in Florida. Okay, maybe more than a word.
A monologue.
Yes, it is warm. We have not hit the hot months yet (!!!!) so I am… well, acclimating to the “warmth.” Or maybe I am in a permanent state of heat stroke.
What I am trying to say is that it is so hot here you can set your AC at 76 and when you walk into your home… it actually feels like an icebox. Yesterday I turned my AC off because 77 degrees was—wait for it— too cold.
When I park my car in a parking lot, I no longer look for the space closest to the front door. Did I mention I had major knee surgery last August? Oh well to the hell.
I look for a parking space under a tree. A big, shady tree. I prefer bird poo on my roof rather than scorching hot, black leather seats, a flaming steering wheel and fogged up sunglasses. Pro tip: leaving your car on, with the AC running, is acceptable at Publix.
I have learned even more things.
There is a recipe on how to cook lasagna in your mailbox. I will let you know how my broiled lasagna turns out in mid-August. Right now, baking cookies in your car is the trendy thing to do.
hat tip courtesy: Alan Wayne Debban via facebook
The Florida Man Games are real and they are spectacular.
It rains every day at exactly 3:00 in the afternoon. Florida’s cooling thunderstorms run on a schedule that rivals a Swiss clock. Or a German train. It’s almost comforting.
Almost.
I always have a towel in my car. I use it to A- sit on if I cannot find a big, shady tree, dammit, B-dry my car off after going to the car wash every day ($39.99 a month for unlimited car washes at Gate!) to get the love bugs off my grill (more on that later) or C-as a rain hat at 3 pm.
Drivers in Florida think the I-95 sign is the posted speed limit. Using your turn signal is a sign of weakness. Do not drive in the left lane unless you hate the way your car’s rear end looks/want a new car. All Floridian drivers are practicing to be poor NASCAR drivers.
Florida understands its bad drivers. That’s why on every highway at 1,000 feet intervals, there is a lane for U-turns so one can A- reverse your lousy sense of direction, B- make your GPS go HAM, or C- gas up/eat lunch/go Christmas shopping at Buc-ees.
Parking on the interstate’s grassy median to chat on your phone, taking pictures of a meandering gator, running from a meandering gator or having a fried chicken picnic is perfectly normal here.
You have to put vinegar in your AC unit once a month to keep mold out. You also have to keep the detergent tray and front loading door on your washing machine open so mold does not colonize.
My feet have a farmer’s tan from flip flops. Also, fancy flip flops under a sequined evening gown are acceptable attire in Florida.
Fresh grouper, smoked fish dip and pimento cheese spread are on the menu in every restaurant and they are awesome.
The more north you drive in Florida, the more Southern it gets.
When someone leaves your home, you do not say, “have a great day.” You say, “Quick! Close the door so you don’t let the bugs in.”
So far, I have had no problems with bugs in my house.
So far.
Bugs on my car are a different thing.
photo courtesy of Herald-Tribune
Bugs have their own seasons in Florida. Because bugs own Florida. They are not too prevalent where I am but they are downright a nuisance in South Florida.
Florida has four distinct seasons: Nice, Love Bugs, Hurricanes and No-see-ums.
Nice: November to March (this season can also be referred to as Snow Bird season)
Love Bugs: April to May (with an encore in September)
No-see-ums: June to early-August
Hurricanes: late-August to October
Love Bugs stick to the front of a car’s grill and bumper. They must be removed within a day or two or the acid from their tiny corpses will melt the paint off a car. Update: the front of my black Benz looks like a Dalmatian.
No-see-ums are a bug that nobody can see. I have swatted at the air for no apparent reason and nobody questions why. They get it. No-see-ums are annoying, sure. But you usually do not feel their presence until after they have dined on your sweaty bicep.
Welcome to Florida.
Land of strange animals. Like Florida man and alligators.
Actually, I am more scared of Florida man than alligators. Truth be told, I have become fond of swamp puppies. They are cute. They are survivors.
Gators do not bother us unless we go into their domain (water) while they are hungry. Gators are, in general, scared of people. Especially on land. I have witnessed their cowardice with my own eyes.
Last spring a gator was roaming on my street, looking for love in all the wrong places. It was mating season, after all. He strolled up to a lady’s house and when she opened her door, well, can you say, “land shark”?
She called a trapper and chaos ensued.
The poor thing (the gator, not the lady) was running around our street, scared to death, his wanna-be big tail whipping back and forth as he scrambled toward a retention pond, heading for safety. Or maybe it was a flirty, love-sick female gator.
I was really rooting for him.
The trapper caught him and “relocated” him. All five feet, one inches of him. Pink mouth and all. He was absolutely adorable.
Do I like Florida?
No.
I love Florida.
After enduring so much heartbreak in the last three years, I have finally found joy again. I wake up every day smiling. Sure, I still cry every day. I miss my husband. David’s death altered my life’s projection.
Before he died, he gave me a new laptop and a fancy broadcasting microphone.
He was trying to tell me something. He was nudging me toward what he knew always gave me joy.
Florida has given me my life back. I have forged some incredible friendships. I have built a new home. I am exploring new places and still thirsting for knowledge.
Florida has awakened my love for college football again.
I am alligator. Hear me bellow. Watch me survive.
I am back, baby.
As always, love it, love it, love it. Also missed it. Made me laugh of course but also sad that you’re not here. Keep them coming. Look forward to seeing you soon.
Thank you!