I guess we are really Tennesseans

I guess it must be official. We are Tennesseans. At least that is what it says on our driver's licenses. (By the way, a side benefit is that Tennessee does not print your weight on the license like Ohio does.) We must also be officially retired because (as you will soon see) our lives are much less exciting.

We have been in the condo now for over two weeks, and things are starting to take shape. We go and "visit" our stuff in the storage unit. I doubt that much more of it is ever going to come and visit us ... we are almost out of room.

Last week we considered our vacation week. We stayed here, but attended the Barbershop Harmony Society convention which was held here in Nashville. We had our first visitors since the move from Ohio and Michigan as several members of my former chorus and their wives were here for the convention and came for brunch on Saturday.

I have already come to the conclusion that Tennessee is where Barb was meant to be all along. I always cringed when she walked up to complete strangers and carried on long conversations, but she fits right in down here. All of the women (and many of the men) are made from the same mold. If you mention you are new to the state to ANYONE they will immediately ask you to share your life story. This goes for waitresses, people in church, people in line at Wal-Mart ... it doesn't matter. Yesterday we went out to lunch at a Japanese steak house where you sit with others around a grill. Barb and the woman next to her must have been separated at birth because they talked non-stop for two hours. By the time we left we had a full sheet of phone numbers for doctors, lawyers, vets, dog groomers, and hair dressers. Oh yes, and we got a copy of the daughter's country CD to listen to on the drive home. I have witnessed this kind of exchange "from" Barb before, but never have I seen a person "out Barb" my wife!

We are walking every day. That has led to a little bit of weight loss and many sore muscles. When we walk the circle of our condo development half of the walk is downhill, which makes the other half uphill. Barb and I are constantly moaning about sore butt muscles from the uphill portion of the walks.

This week I need to figure out how to register my cars and get plates. Oh ... almost forgot ... last week we made the trip back to Indiana to claim our PT Cruiser that Barb wrecked on the move down (see previous blog). It truly is better than new now, but that ten hour round trip was another exhausting experience. I assume we will be in the line at the county clerks office for hours, so by the time we get our new license plates I am sure we will have shared our life story several more times.

Ah ... life as a Tennessean.