Thought I would post a couple of recent opinions that did not make the Sunday edition. They are always online for LSJ, but hard to find. Difficult to express all the thoughts or issues in 75 words or less, but therein lies the challenge!
For the question on what I would like to see in the State budget:
"The State needs to get creative when it comes to the regulations and tax structures that are crippling small and mid-size companies. They are the ones struggling to survive yet employ 1,000's of people. They do not have the clout to demand concessions yet they will bring this state back if we just support their efforts. Some assistance or alternatives to allow smaller companies to cover health care costs would also be a major step forward."
On the question of what I would like to see in the next Governor:
"First there should be a limit on election spending. No buying of elections. The next governor should be compassionate to the needs of the people yet strong enough to make the tough decisions regardless of who it upsets. However no governor can succeed or focus on more important issues when they are constantly wrangling with a self-serving partisan legislature. "Politics as usual" has been a devastating win/lose game with Michigan taxpayers ending up the losers. Get over yourselves!"
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
ONE SMALL LIGHT
One must admit there are extremists on both ends of the world view spectrum which really do not define who most of us are and what we believe. As we grow a little older and hopefully wiser, we find our ideals encompass both liberal and conservative viewpoints. We believe what we believe based on our experiences, our families, our friends and most of us try to do the right thing.
But I have to admit if it wasn't for those annoying, saber rattling, hysterical opposite views being expressed,the world would be a scarier place. Debate and protest prevent one group from taking over completely and I thank whoever, that we can still do so in this country.
I ask you, if the crackpot liberals did not keep fighting for what they believe is right the wealthy, the bankers and wall street would force us to take whatever they deem fit and personal freedom would be a thing of the past. And if the wild-eyed conservatives did not continually fight to preserve their world view we would probably descend into chaos.
So I raise a glass to both sides of the everlasting debate as I contemplate the wisdom of my 57 or is it 58 years on this planet. ROCK ON!
Saturday, October 3, 2009
FALLING SCENES
Noticed a bouquet of fall flowers today. The colors were rich and succulent. Reds, yellows, purplish pink and white. Funny that the end of the season presents such vivid colors. Every notice how on a sunny fall day the sky is so blue it almost hurts your eyes? The leaves wear crimson and golden coats just before they skydive to their eventual demise. Almost as if the dying makes everything more colorful and vibrant.
A metaphor for life, love and death. A fever burns hotter; eyes shine brighter. A glimpse into heaven. Makes a lot of sense really. Two years ago this week. There must be a butterfly nearby....
A metaphor for life, love and death. A fever burns hotter; eyes shine brighter. A glimpse into heaven. Makes a lot of sense really. Two years ago this week. There must be a butterfly nearby....
Sunday, September 13, 2009
SCENES OF PROTEST
I find the vehemence and passion of the protests against a health care reform totally amazing. This affects every citizen of this country. People should not have to die for lack of care or go bankrupt due lack of coverage.
Where were all these protesters when Wall Street was bailed out and executives rewarded for crashing the economy? Where were the marchers and venomous rhetoric against the bank bailouts which were used for executive bonuses and banks buying up other banks. Yet the businesses and people who were begging for a small piece of these billions for loans "WHICH THEY WOULD PAY BACK" were getting nada. Ahh ahh the same people and businesses who would stop foreclosures, produce products, pay their workers and get the economy going again.
Protest and disruption are great tactics. We children of the 60's and 70's learned that lesson very well. Unfortunately normally thinking, intelligent people are questioning the need for health care reform rather than the tactics that are being used to confuse and condemn any change. Apparently it is ok for the rich to get richer, but not for the rest of us to have the basics of preventative care and choice. The large insurance companies control 70 to 95% of the business in most states. There is no choice.
Is the govt perfect? No of course not, but changes are needed and it takes a giant and compassion to slay the other giants. All options require compromise, but to do nothing but accept the status quo rewards the wrong segment of society and may condemn many to bankruptcy or worse.
Where were all these protesters when Wall Street was bailed out and executives rewarded for crashing the economy? Where were the marchers and venomous rhetoric against the bank bailouts which were used for executive bonuses and banks buying up other banks. Yet the businesses and people who were begging for a small piece of these billions for loans "WHICH THEY WOULD PAY BACK" were getting nada. Ahh ahh the same people and businesses who would stop foreclosures, produce products, pay their workers and get the economy going again.
Protest and disruption are great tactics. We children of the 60's and 70's learned that lesson very well. Unfortunately normally thinking, intelligent people are questioning the need for health care reform rather than the tactics that are being used to confuse and condemn any change. Apparently it is ok for the rich to get richer, but not for the rest of us to have the basics of preventative care and choice. The large insurance companies control 70 to 95% of the business in most states. There is no choice.
Is the govt perfect? No of course not, but changes are needed and it takes a giant and compassion to slay the other giants. All options require compromise, but to do nothing but accept the status quo rewards the wrong segment of society and may condemn many to bankruptcy or worse.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
HUMMER UPDATE
Apparently the original visitor "HUMVEE" as I like to call him/her as been joined by other greedy friends. A longer, skinnier version of the first and a smaller neck-banded male of much aggression. The battle ensues when one attempts a quick snack and run. Bombarding mites blow each other off course in a comical aerial act of foolhardy bravery. They literally fly sideways to avoid the evil wings and beak of the feathery flapping defense. He jealously guards the red sugar water that, trust me, one little bird smaller than the size of my fist could not possibly hope to demolish within his or her lifetime.
To be available for guard duty we have determined he must hang in a nearby tree or bush ready for instant attack should another hungry beastie approach. Metaphor for life I suppose. If you are not willing to share you are doomed to spend every waking minute defending your treasure from the marauding hordes who attempt to take it from you. Be sure it is worth the effort I say. He knows that we are talking about him fixing beady eyes on us through the window while pausing gracefully in midair flapping furiously to warn us off. Hilarious yet misguided courage as I am a low carb person uninterested in stealing his overly sugared treat.
To be available for guard duty we have determined he must hang in a nearby tree or bush ready for instant attack should another hungry beastie approach. Metaphor for life I suppose. If you are not willing to share you are doomed to spend every waking minute defending your treasure from the marauding hordes who attempt to take it from you. Be sure it is worth the effort I say. He knows that we are talking about him fixing beady eyes on us through the window while pausing gracefully in midair flapping furiously to warn us off. Hilarious yet misguided courage as I am a low carb person uninterested in stealing his overly sugared treat.
SCENES OF KENNEDY
Although not perfect; a family full of contradictions, excessive behavior, influence and power. One cannot deny that this family of wealth and privilege never forgot that public service is the highest calling and followed the practice to their death. I salute you Senator Kennedy and those that came before you. My hope is that others will follow the path you began.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
OF KINGS AND FEATHERS AND HORSEFEATHERS
Ok initial rant. Why a week's worth of obsession about Jacko Wacko? Come on, the guy had some good music, but face it what did he ever contribute to society? Did he discover a cure for cancer? Make the blind to see and the lame to walk? No. Get over it already or on the other hand, how pathetic that this caused anyone to weep and wail over his loss. He was an entertainer (more in his personal life actually) nothing more. How pathetic.
We certainly like to be entertained with our bread and circuses while Rome burns around us. This type of adulation should be reserved for the truly deserving and it makes me wonder if we are so starved for excitement we just climb aboard the celebrity wagon. Or should I blame the media that wastes so much time on the undeserving for the entertainment value.
Now more important things. My hummer has been making a regular stop at the cheap little plastic red thingee we put out there. When we had the handsome copper and red mansion, he turned his little birdee nose up at it. Apparently hummingbirds are the "common sewers" of the bird world and prefer the trailer with the tassels and spinning tops rather than the fancy pants feeder we were willing to provide for their dining pleasure. Chez Ide was too upscale for my buddy I have dubbed "HumVee".
I look each morning and evening. The Burt man said he was working outside today and it sounded like a freakin' helicopter when he was hitting the feeder. Apparently there is an issue with their little bodies and their long long beaks being too heavy for their wings-thus the constant flapping. Last night the light was on inside and he caught a glimpse of his hosts. I swear his visage showed major surprise and curiosity so much so that he forgot the sugar water and kept peering in the window. Peeping Tom HumVee. Probably the first time he realized that someone must be filling his juice banquet. We were appropriately nonchalant and unobtrusive as good servants should be until he settled down. But now I see him in unexpected places, no doubt trying to see if we are real or not.
We certainly like to be entertained with our bread and circuses while Rome burns around us. This type of adulation should be reserved for the truly deserving and it makes me wonder if we are so starved for excitement we just climb aboard the celebrity wagon. Or should I blame the media that wastes so much time on the undeserving for the entertainment value.
Now more important things. My hummer has been making a regular stop at the cheap little plastic red thingee we put out there. When we had the handsome copper and red mansion, he turned his little birdee nose up at it. Apparently hummingbirds are the "common sewers" of the bird world and prefer the trailer with the tassels and spinning tops rather than the fancy pants feeder we were willing to provide for their dining pleasure. Chez Ide was too upscale for my buddy I have dubbed "HumVee".
I look each morning and evening. The Burt man said he was working outside today and it sounded like a freakin' helicopter when he was hitting the feeder. Apparently there is an issue with their little bodies and their long long beaks being too heavy for their wings-thus the constant flapping. Last night the light was on inside and he caught a glimpse of his hosts. I swear his visage showed major surprise and curiosity so much so that he forgot the sugar water and kept peering in the window. Peeping Tom HumVee. Probably the first time he realized that someone must be filling his juice banquet. We were appropriately nonchalant and unobtrusive as good servants should be until he settled down. But now I see him in unexpected places, no doubt trying to see if we are real or not.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
GROCERY SCENES
After another annoying coupon debacle this morning I am forced to surrender to the grocery gods. Yes, you are more powerful and your rules are sufficiently obscure and impossible for most people. You seem benevolent and helpful as we merrily clip our "coups" and try to slide them into a cashier's hands, a smile on our faces, a song in our hearts. Soon our spirits are sent plummeting and we stand embarrassed by our inability to follow the directions and play the game, while the cashier smirks and marks down another point in their insane game of Gotcha. No doubt money is wagered and useless coupons displayed by the register jockeys like tiny colorful trophies.
Basically the rules are simple. Our job is to try to spend as little as possible. Theirs is to tempt you to buy products that you would not normally purchase in order to save money you wouldn't have spent anyway except YOU HAD A COUPON! See how the game goes? Point, game and match to the store. Yes I know there are coupon Queens and Kings who are actually "PAID" to spend money in the store. These people are not real. Even without a Finance degree I believe the stores would actually not be solvent if they allowed the "players" to win more than they wagered. The house always wins.
However it is fun to watch these experts in action. They wait until the groceries are beeped and bagged. As the eager hands reach out for the cash, the players present them with 100 separate coupons which leads to the hilarious game of bag scramble. That is, the baggies and cashies must frantically sort through the jars of yogurt, soup cans and bread to assure each item is in the proper sequence, amount and, no doubt color required. This is usually punctuated by the inevitable public address system announcement "Can I get a price check on the foot fungus medical pads and KY Intensive Sensation?" This is often repeated for maximum effect and embarrassment. The veterans stand their ground, a little smile on their faces. They refuse to accept the attempt at shopper abuse. Revenge is extracted however as the baggies quickly shove the bread to the bottom of the bag to be massacred by the heavier objects that follow.
Basically the rules are simple. Our job is to try to spend as little as possible. Theirs is to tempt you to buy products that you would not normally purchase in order to save money you wouldn't have spent anyway except YOU HAD A COUPON! See how the game goes? Point, game and match to the store. Yes I know there are coupon Queens and Kings who are actually "PAID" to spend money in the store. These people are not real. Even without a Finance degree I believe the stores would actually not be solvent if they allowed the "players" to win more than they wagered. The house always wins.
However it is fun to watch these experts in action. They wait until the groceries are beeped and bagged. As the eager hands reach out for the cash, the players present them with 100 separate coupons which leads to the hilarious game of bag scramble. That is, the baggies and cashies must frantically sort through the jars of yogurt, soup cans and bread to assure each item is in the proper sequence, amount and, no doubt color required. This is usually punctuated by the inevitable public address system announcement "Can I get a price check on the foot fungus medical pads and KY Intensive Sensation?" This is often repeated for maximum effect and embarrassment. The veterans stand their ground, a little smile on their faces. They refuse to accept the attempt at shopper abuse. Revenge is extracted however as the baggies quickly shove the bread to the bottom of the bag to be massacred by the heavier objects that follow.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
POLITICAL SCENES
This depressing trait that no one is responsible for anything and bad things happen due to circumstances beyond our control is wearing thin. It even translates to countries. North Korea sentencing two young women to 12 years of hard labor for stepping over an invisible boundary (alleged)? How anal are we? When our paranoia translates into destruction and mayhem for no other reason than we want to be noticed, we want more power or the most disturbing one of all-in the name of religion- we show we have learned nothing as a supposedly intelligent species capable of higher motivation.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
SCENES OF FREEDOM
I have been thinking a lot about what this country means to me lately. We are going through a terrible time, but innately I believe we will rise like the phoenix strong and beautiful again. It is in fire that metal is tested and made stronger. EWHH yeah I know, but I do feel like that.
In multiple discussions with many people about how they are feeling right now, certain truths seem to emerge. From a foreign friend. He criticizes this country,but he has to admit the energy of this country and the freedom to be who you want to be in America. From died-in-the-wool conservatives. Their frantic dance to criticize everything and try to pin it on one group, or one ideal or one philosophy. The more education we receive, the more we think, the more we explore, the more we debate, the more we realize it is not that simple. There are so many facets to what happens, so many reasons that things progress or regress for that matter. Global warming-civilization's indulgence in fossil fuels or inevitable ebb and flow of Mother Earth's cycles? Evolution or divine -why must they be mutually exclusive? Constant warfare in the name of religion? The lust for power at all costs. Religion-is it meant to suppress individual questions, control the masses or is it true enlightenment vs. fear of the unknown?
For me it all comes down to one or two significant events. My Mother who always espoused the liberal agenda, some might say. But who always dared to say you are allowed to think, apply logic and tell the emperor he has no clothes. Truth. Or a teacher I had in 6th grade, Mr. Molnar. This man had escaped from Hungary from behind the Iron Curtain in the 50's. That's what we called it then. Communism vs. democracy - it was so clear. Risking his life to come to America. When he attained his citizenship the local paper came to take pictures and celebrate this moment. He begged them not to publish the story as he still had family in Hungary who would be threatened by his success. 1961 and he had to protect his family from the tyranny of his home country.
To me that is what this country is about. When a president decides to eavesdrop on its own citizens, does not feel the need to secure a legal subpoena or considers torture in the name of security, I have to protest and say that is not the America that I know and love. I am willing to trade the "illusion" of security for the freedom that I was fortunate to be born to. So be it.
In multiple discussions with many people about how they are feeling right now, certain truths seem to emerge. From a foreign friend. He criticizes this country,but he has to admit the energy of this country and the freedom to be who you want to be in America. From died-in-the-wool conservatives. Their frantic dance to criticize everything and try to pin it on one group, or one ideal or one philosophy. The more education we receive, the more we think, the more we explore, the more we debate, the more we realize it is not that simple. There are so many facets to what happens, so many reasons that things progress or regress for that matter. Global warming-civilization's indulgence in fossil fuels or inevitable ebb and flow of Mother Earth's cycles? Evolution or divine -why must they be mutually exclusive? Constant warfare in the name of religion? The lust for power at all costs. Religion-is it meant to suppress individual questions, control the masses or is it true enlightenment vs. fear of the unknown?
For me it all comes down to one or two significant events. My Mother who always espoused the liberal agenda, some might say. But who always dared to say you are allowed to think, apply logic and tell the emperor he has no clothes. Truth. Or a teacher I had in 6th grade, Mr. Molnar. This man had escaped from Hungary from behind the Iron Curtain in the 50's. That's what we called it then. Communism vs. democracy - it was so clear. Risking his life to come to America. When he attained his citizenship the local paper came to take pictures and celebrate this moment. He begged them not to publish the story as he still had family in Hungary who would be threatened by his success. 1961 and he had to protect his family from the tyranny of his home country.
To me that is what this country is about. When a president decides to eavesdrop on its own citizens, does not feel the need to secure a legal subpoena or considers torture in the name of security, I have to protest and say that is not the America that I know and love. I am willing to trade the "illusion" of security for the freedom that I was fortunate to be born to. So be it.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
RANDOM SCENES
First a shout-out to all you MOMS out there. HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY! My own chick just left after a couple hours of good conversation and laughter. Love this grown-up version of the two of us. I really admire her ability to befriend and be friendly to folks and always up for an adventure. Her father and I are much more reclusive and solitary. She's just fun to be around!
Out this morning several times looking for a butterfly. It's probably too cold, but I have faith. My little Rose of Sharon bush is finally showing signs of life so it seems only fair that Mother should make an appearance at some time today. Miss you!
Oh yeah another random thought. The prevalence of "round-abouts" these days instead of stop signs and stop lights. Supposed to keep the traffic moving. To me they are suburbia's own version of highway "chicken". Each vehicle approaches from one of four sides. That dramatic moment as we all try to avoid making eye contact-peripheral vision on high alert (well you do need a little warning as several tons of steel makes a pass towards you). Loss of points if you make eye contact as you have acknowledged there are others who may or may not have rights in this battle.
A frantic dive past the yield sign and the inevitable cape-swirl (think bullfighter) as we try to skim past the oncoming cars in the circle. Sometimes I fear I will be trapped in the middle never finding a opening to escape the concrete merry-go-round as I shoot for the originally scheduled left turn. Though it would be worse to be the timid one who hesitates before entering the fray drawing mocking laughter and head shakes from the braver participants.
I am thinking of mounting nasty viking horns on the roof of my vehicle and a totally raucous and annoying car horn to intimidate the opposition. Ah well for 5 seconds of my commute I do get my jollies.
Out this morning several times looking for a butterfly. It's probably too cold, but I have faith. My little Rose of Sharon bush is finally showing signs of life so it seems only fair that Mother should make an appearance at some time today. Miss you!
Oh yeah another random thought. The prevalence of "round-abouts" these days instead of stop signs and stop lights. Supposed to keep the traffic moving. To me they are suburbia's own version of highway "chicken". Each vehicle approaches from one of four sides. That dramatic moment as we all try to avoid making eye contact-peripheral vision on high alert (well you do need a little warning as several tons of steel makes a pass towards you). Loss of points if you make eye contact as you have acknowledged there are others who may or may not have rights in this battle.
A frantic dive past the yield sign and the inevitable cape-swirl (think bullfighter) as we try to skim past the oncoming cars in the circle. Sometimes I fear I will be trapped in the middle never finding a opening to escape the concrete merry-go-round as I shoot for the originally scheduled left turn. Though it would be worse to be the timid one who hesitates before entering the fray drawing mocking laughter and head shakes from the braver participants.
I am thinking of mounting nasty viking horns on the roof of my vehicle and a totally raucous and annoying car horn to intimidate the opposition. Ah well for 5 seconds of my commute I do get my jollies.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
SPRING HAS SPRUNG
Don't' you just love how Michigan heralds Spring. I am carrying umbrella, gloves and ice scraper in the car. All could be used in the course of a few days. Love the fricking April showers, la da da, but enough already. The flowers, grass, trees and robins are literally jumping out of their skins with all the fickle sunshine, rain and arbitrary temperatures. Renewal. Sometimes I wasn't sure it was going to happen with all the doom and gloom every day, but the world keeps clicking regardless of our "temporary" disasters. Actually there is a certain comfort in knowing that what Man and Woman kind does in the course of human events, the world will do its thing despite our best efforts.
Dad finally held his Spring soiree. Lots of good eats and cutthroat poker. Well at least it is to me. For those who don't know, I hate to lose. Whether it be a card game or a fight to the death. The world loves a winner. Which is why the Burt man said "don't' be giving sportsmanlike advice to Kristen". Bahh. Who wants to come in second. Pretty funny though as I browbeat Colleen into "just play the cards, show us your third degree burn at the break". I'm such an itch-bay. She is so sweet, but I really feel bad when I can see her cards every time she holds up her hand. Did I take advantage, well duhhhh....
Marcie starts in my building next week! Crazy! Should be fun, so I guess I better clean up my Dilbert cube to look organized. Heck who am I kidding? You leave everything out so you don't forget it. Remember the days when secretaries did your filing and kept your schedule. Pulling out whatever backup material you needed for the day's assignments? Yeah fig newton of my imagination too. Wish I hadn't wasted my time doing those things as administrative when I could have been listening to my IPOD and texting my buddies. Sigh. Actually not a bad day and feeling pretty good. No swine flu here......
Dad finally held his Spring soiree. Lots of good eats and cutthroat poker. Well at least it is to me. For those who don't know, I hate to lose. Whether it be a card game or a fight to the death. The world loves a winner. Which is why the Burt man said "don't' be giving sportsmanlike advice to Kristen". Bahh. Who wants to come in second. Pretty funny though as I browbeat Colleen into "just play the cards, show us your third degree burn at the break". I'm such an itch-bay. She is so sweet, but I really feel bad when I can see her cards every time she holds up her hand. Did I take advantage, well duhhhh....
Marcie starts in my building next week! Crazy! Should be fun, so I guess I better clean up my Dilbert cube to look organized. Heck who am I kidding? You leave everything out so you don't forget it. Remember the days when secretaries did your filing and kept your schedule. Pulling out whatever backup material you needed for the day's assignments? Yeah fig newton of my imagination too. Wish I hadn't wasted my time doing those things as administrative when I could have been listening to my IPOD and texting my buddies. Sigh. Actually not a bad day and feeling pretty good. No swine flu here......
Sunday, March 29, 2009
CARIBBEAN MUSE CHAPTER 6
Our final night on board, Saturday, we three aft deckies hosted an end of the cruise appetizer and wine party. Mostly fueled by the various bottles of wine we had accumulated over the course of the week and a couple of deli trays. Brian contributed plates of goodies from the buffet and charming little tuxedo clad penguins of chocolate from the ship board cafe. As it was also the anniversary of what would have been Mother's 81st birthday, we began the party with a toast to her who no doubt was seated right in the midst of the hilarity. Fireworks accompanied our toast as the final sunset of the trip displayed itself in timely fashion and succulent glory as old Sol glided majestically into the briny deep of the Atlantic. How's that for freakin' poetry?
The moment led to minor meltdowns for the eldest and youngest of the party for different reasons. Reminiscence has been a large part of the last year and a half both during familiar get-togethers and as part of our new adventures. The rest of us engaged in a three team battle of Trivia. One thing became clear was that each team was lacking in the basics of trivial knowledge; with every team missing the same answers! Perhaps these things really did not happen.....and history lies. However when a brilliant answer was plucked from the proverbial air and somewhere deeper, there was major excitement and much argument over the veracity of the answer.
We all were up early as disembarkation began at 7:30 am. Believing in the kindness of humankind (though after the rudeness experienced throughout the trip, I don't know why I thought that); we headed for the elevators laden with our trunks and treasures. After watching car after car go by jammed to the ceiling and very disinterested passengers, who trying very hard not to make eye contact, we decided to hump it down the stairs. Oddly my suitcase had gained weight so humping down the stairs actually meant bumping it down the stairs as I could not pick it up. This led to further problems at the airport. Strange note: the trip back to the airport was $5less than the trip out. Those gypsy cabbies.....
We were informed at the counter that we were 4 lbs too heavy which results in a $50"shame on you" tax. Apparently if you pay the extra money, the plane mysteriously becomes bigger and able to fly heavier loads; or perhaps you can pump more gas in-who knows? Well choosing the cheaper part of valor, we dumped some bottles of goo that we didn't need-no not the Frangelica-and were able to make fighting weight. Although those, who shall remain nameless, merely checked their bags at the curb and thus avoided the whole "Biggest Loser" debacle altogether.
We spent the next few hours in a cut throat euchre game in the airline member lounge. Jammed in with a bunch of other "elites". Hey we were very happy for the comfortable surroundings, snackies and free Bloody Marys. We floated back to reality in Detroit facing winter once more. Racing to get from terminal "Siberia" to terminal "Way the Heck Over There" and hurtling up and down escalators which included taking one lap through a truly psychedelic corridor (lights & music) the final insult. The only time on the entire trip we were delayed was our puddle jumper from Detroit to Flint. Too much fuel on board so they had to dump it, pump it? Something. The B man said couldn't they just circle the parking lot for awhile. If it burns fuel like our boat, two times around ought to do it.
We then boarded a plane so small, I had to duck getting down the aisle and I'm the short one! Our steward was about the age of Abraham (after the kid grew up). We speculated on what mortal sin he had committed to get the 7:00 pm Sunday night flight duty to Flint. At any rate, he checked our belts, reiterated the messages no one listens to anyway, strapped himself into his jump seat, turned out the light, and as far as I know went to sleep. I'm telling you he was about 90 years old. Hate to see him trying to get the chute open and down if we had to crash land. No doubt, he would be the last one off the bird, like an hour later.
Being with everyone for this cruise was the high point even with the normal upsets and misunderstandings. We are all different and at least there is enough to do on board to do your own thing if you can find it. I think though we all retreated to our respective caves for a while to relish our togetherness and recover from it all! A big YAH to the Committe Chair M-girl who organized the trip.
The moment led to minor meltdowns for the eldest and youngest of the party for different reasons. Reminiscence has been a large part of the last year and a half both during familiar get-togethers and as part of our new adventures. The rest of us engaged in a three team battle of Trivia. One thing became clear was that each team was lacking in the basics of trivial knowledge; with every team missing the same answers! Perhaps these things really did not happen.....and history lies. However when a brilliant answer was plucked from the proverbial air and somewhere deeper, there was major excitement and much argument over the veracity of the answer.
We all were up early as disembarkation began at 7:30 am. Believing in the kindness of humankind (though after the rudeness experienced throughout the trip, I don't know why I thought that); we headed for the elevators laden with our trunks and treasures. After watching car after car go by jammed to the ceiling and very disinterested passengers, who trying very hard not to make eye contact, we decided to hump it down the stairs. Oddly my suitcase had gained weight so humping down the stairs actually meant bumping it down the stairs as I could not pick it up. This led to further problems at the airport. Strange note: the trip back to the airport was $5less than the trip out. Those gypsy cabbies.....
We were informed at the counter that we were 4 lbs too heavy which results in a $50"shame on you" tax. Apparently if you pay the extra money, the plane mysteriously becomes bigger and able to fly heavier loads; or perhaps you can pump more gas in-who knows? Well choosing the cheaper part of valor, we dumped some bottles of goo that we didn't need-no not the Frangelica-and were able to make fighting weight. Although those, who shall remain nameless, merely checked their bags at the curb and thus avoided the whole "Biggest Loser" debacle altogether.
We spent the next few hours in a cut throat euchre game in the airline member lounge. Jammed in with a bunch of other "elites". Hey we were very happy for the comfortable surroundings, snackies and free Bloody Marys. We floated back to reality in Detroit facing winter once more. Racing to get from terminal "Siberia" to terminal "Way the Heck Over There" and hurtling up and down escalators which included taking one lap through a truly psychedelic corridor (lights & music) the final insult. The only time on the entire trip we were delayed was our puddle jumper from Detroit to Flint. Too much fuel on board so they had to dump it, pump it? Something. The B man said couldn't they just circle the parking lot for awhile. If it burns fuel like our boat, two times around ought to do it.
We then boarded a plane so small, I had to duck getting down the aisle and I'm the short one! Our steward was about the age of Abraham (after the kid grew up). We speculated on what mortal sin he had committed to get the 7:00 pm Sunday night flight duty to Flint. At any rate, he checked our belts, reiterated the messages no one listens to anyway, strapped himself into his jump seat, turned out the light, and as far as I know went to sleep. I'm telling you he was about 90 years old. Hate to see him trying to get the chute open and down if we had to crash land. No doubt, he would be the last one off the bird, like an hour later.
Being with everyone for this cruise was the high point even with the normal upsets and misunderstandings. We are all different and at least there is enough to do on board to do your own thing if you can find it. I think though we all retreated to our respective caves for a while to relish our togetherness and recover from it all! A big YAH to the Committe Chair M-girl who organized the trip.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
CARRIBEAN MUSE CHAPTER 5
Last port of call was Grand Turk Island. As it was recently devastated by a hurricane (apparently the flat islands fare worse), there was little to do onshore. They did offer a tour of the "hurricane flattened areas" along with stories from the survivors. Not conducive to a relaxing tour of paradise.
Fortunately there was another heavenly option in the offing which was a full-blown, Jimmy Buffett, pounding DJ's, giant bong-filled alcohol fueled, cheeseburgers in Paradise, Margaritaville! What a gas. We made it that far from the ship and planted anchor for the rest of the day. They had a swim up pool which we left to the younger crowd as it was quite nippy (70's I believe) and stayed with a poolside table where we could watch all the action. There was non-stop music and silly games instigated by the DJ in charge.
There was a memorable beer guzzling competition where we were amply represented by our own Matthew R. who played by the rules and lost! But we were proud to back such a worthy entry into the frothy fray which included some spillage and spitting. This was followed by a hysterical scavenger hunt which had Kristen R. scurrying (they are definitely a party couple as is evidenced by their frantic dance off on board to break the 80's trivia tie).
Highlights included her frantically racing around securing beach towels, clothing, drinks, cell phones and one priceless moment when she had to put the shorts on her own cousin! She lagged considerably behind the rest as they were 1) button fly shorts; 2) belonged to his wife so fit was an issue, and 3) well geez it was her cousin! One gentleman, who I believe was European basically stripped off his trunks to supply one of the contestants which led to a very interesting re-robing as he apparently was wearing nothing underneath and beach towels really don't cover the rear very well! Kristen ended up as one item away from the last showdown which was just as well. The final stunt was selecting a likely male specimen, the woman draping herself completely over her victim and having him perform as many push-ups as possible before collapsing into a heap of squished and exhausted puddle of bodies.
A liberal dose of margarita's, beer, etc. of course added the the frivolity of the occasion, but as no one had been asked to steer the boat, we were all able to stagger back onboard and no harm done. The B man and myself, after a mixture of sun, booze, weird food and hilarity decided to fore go dinner that night in favor of taking turns hanging over the railing. As he basically probably only downed one beer, I guess it was the food. Ah well an early night is not all bad....
Fortunately there was another heavenly option in the offing which was a full-blown, Jimmy Buffett, pounding DJ's, giant bong-filled alcohol fueled, cheeseburgers in Paradise, Margaritaville! What a gas. We made it that far from the ship and planted anchor for the rest of the day. They had a swim up pool which we left to the younger crowd as it was quite nippy (70's I believe) and stayed with a poolside table where we could watch all the action. There was non-stop music and silly games instigated by the DJ in charge.
There was a memorable beer guzzling competition where we were amply represented by our own Matthew R. who played by the rules and lost! But we were proud to back such a worthy entry into the frothy fray which included some spillage and spitting. This was followed by a hysterical scavenger hunt which had Kristen R. scurrying (they are definitely a party couple as is evidenced by their frantic dance off on board to break the 80's trivia tie).
Highlights included her frantically racing around securing beach towels, clothing, drinks, cell phones and one priceless moment when she had to put the shorts on her own cousin! She lagged considerably behind the rest as they were 1) button fly shorts; 2) belonged to his wife so fit was an issue, and 3) well geez it was her cousin! One gentleman, who I believe was European basically stripped off his trunks to supply one of the contestants which led to a very interesting re-robing as he apparently was wearing nothing underneath and beach towels really don't cover the rear very well! Kristen ended up as one item away from the last showdown which was just as well. The final stunt was selecting a likely male specimen, the woman draping herself completely over her victim and having him perform as many push-ups as possible before collapsing into a heap of squished and exhausted puddle of bodies.
A liberal dose of margarita's, beer, etc. of course added the the frivolity of the occasion, but as no one had been asked to steer the boat, we were all able to stagger back onboard and no harm done. The B man and myself, after a mixture of sun, booze, weird food and hilarity decided to fore go dinner that night in favor of taking turns hanging over the railing. As he basically probably only downed one beer, I guess it was the food. Ah well an early night is not all bad....
Sunday, March 1, 2009
CARIBBEAN MUSE CHAPTER 4
Next port of call was St. Thomas island. Was up early and got to see the docking. Island was beautiful in the early morning dawn. Twinkling lights racing up the hills. Actually looked much better in the dark. The dock area was a little seedy except for the "made for tourist" duty free stores and the inevitable Diamonds International store that seem to spring up like ocean flowers on every spit of land.
A myriad of conveyances kept pulling up. Taxis, open air buses, pirate ships, catamarans, private cars (which we were warned about). Yes, I said pirate ships. Apparently the area was known as quite the hangout for the buccaneers including a private castle supposedly inhabited by Blackbeard himself. Modern day pirates use cell phones and wear designer jeans.
Not knowing, we did not book any adventures, but apparently it is definitely worth the price of admission to take the island tours and head to the beach. The open air buses with no seat belts become a dubious safety zone as you make one of the hairpin turns up the mountain and see the passage of your life from a straight drop away zone beneath your trembling gaze. Apparently most of the tourists make it back alright, with the usual allowances for the late returnees, usually singing.
We took a bus into town and were assailed from beginning to end with "need a ride back? come see what we have in here. want to take a tour? buy me, no buy me" Wait that was me looking at jewelry and clothes. As we were the only ship in port at the time the pleas for our attention and our dinero were actively and aggressively sought. Felt kind of special-not.
The open air flea markets are a gas. One gentleman was totally decked out in kind of an African, island outfit complete with feathers covering pertinent parts. The designer sandals and perfect American accent kind of detracted from that, but what the hey-his kink. Still don't know what he was selling as I was kind of mesmerized by his garb.
Retraced our steps with the Blaszaks to an open air establishment as we believed they advertised bathrooms. Very important to mark the locations of those on your tour. Of course it meant we had to re-enter the vendor gaunlet which put them into an absolute frenzy of audible advertising believing their entreaties led to our overwhelming need to come back and buy whatever the heck they were selling. If anything, it got crazier. At any rate we went back to a place that was, and I am not kidding, a bar in a jewelry store! It led to my contemplation of which came first the bar or the jewelry store? (kind of a chicken and egg scenario). Either you needed a drink to drown your sorrows over all you spent on jewelry or you needed to gird your financial loins before you plunked down your gold pieces for their gold pieces.
At any rate, I did not take much persuading to go back as they offered us a small sample of something called a "bushwhacker" on the street as we passed by. Very tasty with an ice cream texture. The thought of the jewelry store in the bar will now become clear. We sat down at the open air bar and ordered bushwhackers. Without measuring, the proprietor poured bottle after bottle of various rums into a previously prepared blender full of ice. An entire shelf is dedicated to this enterprise. He ground it all up and then topped it off with another bottle of "who knows what" and served it. I did not know that many kinds of rum existed, but absolutely delicious. We were warned that touristas the other day had drunk 5 apiece and were carried out, so we stuck with one.
We were further entertained by a local musician who had moved to the island from Philadelphia and thus sparked a friendly argument on the advantages of winter. I think I won when I said well people from the north live longer. No doubt from struggling and surviving all the cold weather. They may live shorter lives, but on the islands time goes slower. Hmmm - tie I guess.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
CARIBBEAN MUSE - CHAPTER 3
After a couple days at sea we finally made landing on St Marteen or is it Maarteen? Anyway depends on whether you are on the french or dutch or mongolian side of the slab. Interesting story that a Frenchman and Dutchman stood back to back and circumnavigated the island and where they met up was where they planted their respective flags. Apparently, the Dutchman stopped for a bit of grog which allowed the french to make up a little more sand time thus netting more land. Knowing my experiences in French wine country, I am disinclined to believe that bit of forklore. My theory is the Frenchman said "Hey buddy (or the french equivalent) look at the sea monster over there and quickly skidded an oversize buccaneer boot over 20 score paces before the inebriated Dutchman turned back with a WTF?
Several of the party took a segway tour of the beach which included a 45 minute dissertation on how the drive the darned things - complete with video I believe. The result of that was one person giving up entirely and another slamming two parked cars (not our group). Though why they would have novice segwayers negotiating: 1) a parking lot; 2) the beach; 3) a crowded boardwalk. Kind of explains all the skid marks on the walkway.
Still feeling rocky from my diminishing cold I chose to come over a little later with the second wave of tourists, the Barnhouses and Blazsaks. After standing in the hot sun for 20 minutes to take the five minute water taxi over to the harbor I attempted a graceful, lady bountiful leap from the boat to the dock. Two seconds later I was sprawled all over the boat attendant who was heroically trying to keep me from falling into the beautiful turquoise Caribbean. Mark's only comment was "don't dance with the help Sheila". Ah well.
After several frantic forays through mounds of tourists and jammed stores on a route which Mark had carefully mapped out before our arrival, we slowed down a bit to look, touch and try on island garb. I left our little party and went to one of the beachfront bars to await the survivors of the segway adventure (no that's really what they called it). Finally relaxed, enjoying the view, bantering with the bartender and taking a slow sip of my margarita I reached into my pocket only to discover-money, driver's license, boat pass and........ NO CREDIT CARD! Now I travel all the time and this was a first.
Frantic I scooped up the Burt man and retraced my steps. On a whim I stopped in a store where I used the facilities while mentally going over all the actions we would now have to take to cancel the missing card and, of course, having no means of further purchasing power, when I rather forlornly asked the poker faced, giant dutch proprietor if he has perhaps found a credit card. Giving me a stern stare he asked my name. Upon my response he held out the missing card and wonder of wonders did not lecture me on my carelessness (well not much anyway)! Totally relieved and kicking myself for my mental lapse I asked very timidly if I could hug him and thanked him for his honesty. Bought something in his store this time too.
We continued with a daring lunch on the island. Lori later told me she never drinks or eats on land. No obvious effects from our adventure. Actually didn't get our food stomach upset episode until the last day at Margaritiville (but that's another story). We wandered the beach where Burt noticed the topless sunbather. Amazing how man radar works to pick out one small (well actually two) out-of-place objects on a crowded beach. Then 3 ladies too lazy to get off their park bench said I had a face that would look good with corn rows. Not sure what kind of compliment that was.
Final hilarity of the day was watching the returning boat people. We were tied up with 3 other ships and our balcony faced the dock. Some people needed quite a bit of support to make it back on board, though the singing and retching was entertaining. The best show was the 3 boaties laden down with packages who showed up oh, about an hour after their boat had sailed. Their body language was sublime. Pure disbelief. Got all the way to the point the boat was originally tied up and just stood staring. Then they took pictures. That's why you carry your driver's license and a credit card.....
Several of the party took a segway tour of the beach which included a 45 minute dissertation on how the drive the darned things - complete with video I believe. The result of that was one person giving up entirely and another slamming two parked cars (not our group). Though why they would have novice segwayers negotiating: 1) a parking lot; 2) the beach; 3) a crowded boardwalk. Kind of explains all the skid marks on the walkway.
Still feeling rocky from my diminishing cold I chose to come over a little later with the second wave of tourists, the Barnhouses and Blazsaks. After standing in the hot sun for 20 minutes to take the five minute water taxi over to the harbor I attempted a graceful, lady bountiful leap from the boat to the dock. Two seconds later I was sprawled all over the boat attendant who was heroically trying to keep me from falling into the beautiful turquoise Caribbean. Mark's only comment was "don't dance with the help Sheila". Ah well.
After several frantic forays through mounds of tourists and jammed stores on a route which Mark had carefully mapped out before our arrival, we slowed down a bit to look, touch and try on island garb. I left our little party and went to one of the beachfront bars to await the survivors of the segway adventure (no that's really what they called it). Finally relaxed, enjoying the view, bantering with the bartender and taking a slow sip of my margarita I reached into my pocket only to discover-money, driver's license, boat pass and........ NO CREDIT CARD! Now I travel all the time and this was a first.
Frantic I scooped up the Burt man and retraced my steps. On a whim I stopped in a store where I used the facilities while mentally going over all the actions we would now have to take to cancel the missing card and, of course, having no means of further purchasing power, when I rather forlornly asked the poker faced, giant dutch proprietor if he has perhaps found a credit card. Giving me a stern stare he asked my name. Upon my response he held out the missing card and wonder of wonders did not lecture me on my carelessness (well not much anyway)! Totally relieved and kicking myself for my mental lapse I asked very timidly if I could hug him and thanked him for his honesty. Bought something in his store this time too.
We continued with a daring lunch on the island. Lori later told me she never drinks or eats on land. No obvious effects from our adventure. Actually didn't get our food stomach upset episode until the last day at Margaritiville (but that's another story). We wandered the beach where Burt noticed the topless sunbather. Amazing how man radar works to pick out one small (well actually two) out-of-place objects on a crowded beach. Then 3 ladies too lazy to get off their park bench said I had a face that would look good with corn rows. Not sure what kind of compliment that was.
Final hilarity of the day was watching the returning boat people. We were tied up with 3 other ships and our balcony faced the dock. Some people needed quite a bit of support to make it back on board, though the singing and retching was entertaining. The best show was the 3 boaties laden down with packages who showed up oh, about an hour after their boat had sailed. Their body language was sublime. Pure disbelief. Got all the way to the point the boat was originally tied up and just stood staring. Then they took pictures. That's why you carry your driver's license and a credit card.....
Saturday, February 7, 2009
CARIBBEAN MUSE - CHAPTER 2
Have to mention the pen tradition with the Committee. Apparently whenever Lori flies out of Grand Rapids she picks up a pen in the gift shop. As a collectible it lacks future value, but what the hey. Anyway Kathy decided to follow in the tradition and Marcie and I became a part of the "club" as well. Mine was Jose. There was a Luis and a Jesus, Carlos etc. and everyone found their namesake on our trip but me. However I do believe he was around when I heard them singing the National anthem - you know "Jose can you see?" So I am happy.
Funny how quickly you get used to the feel that things are not too steady beneath your feet. Sometimes overtly and others times subtly. Rocking to sleep is nice, I now know why one rocks a baby-really brings you to la-la land quickly or provides a calming effect even when you try to fight it. Apparently takes us back to the womb and the gentle floating feeling when swimming in Mom.
The buffet was an adventure with a wide variety of offerings, most of which were rather interchangeable in taste. Amazing chefs who can make meat, seafood and chocolate all taste the same. Fresh fruit is always available so that was good. Of course everything seems an adventure when you are looking out at the water-no lights or other man-made objects in sight. I have never seen a color to match the incredible navy-blue of very deep water. If I was a painter I would cut off my hand and never lift a brush again once I realized I could not recreate that color in my work. And yes, the Caribbean is turquoise, just like Mother's eyes and warm as bathwater.
However the first day the sea was too rough to land us on the Princess Cay for our first beach day. I didn't mind the extra day of cruising though it would have been nice to get near an on board pool. Apparently if you carve your initials in blood on a deck chair it is yours whether you are physically present or not. The ghost of your desire guards the chair against all invaders. Some confrontations occur so next time I plan on taking an inflatable and staking my claim poolside.
Still recovering from my cold, I tended to wander a bit then go lay down. Get a drink, go lay down. Play bingo, go lay down. Attend a champagne art auction, go- well you get the drift. I was taking my 47th nap of the day Tuesday when I heard the roar from the crowd on deck watching Obama's inauguration. Was able to tune in on my room TV and catch most of it. Very surreal to be cruising the high seas while history is occurring in the States.
Our first dress up night was very elegant and we have the pictures to prove it. Brian was very "james bondish" with his white dinner jacket which he lent Dad for a portrait. Though we thought Dad looked great he was concerned that he looked like an old man. 84 years old and he's afraid he looks like an old man, right. The Committee took a picture with the "old man" which made us look very young, because duhh he "looks like an old man".
Rounded out the evening with a 70's music trivia night where Lori proceeded to kick a--. Got 36 out of 38 points. The one who had 37 must have had help, but she got a bottle of champagne out of the deal.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
CARIBBEAN MUSE-Chapter 1
This will have to happen in chapters. Too much to put down in one setting. Ok-basic impressions. Took off out of Lansing the 17th at 5 am heading to Flint-minus zero temperature so we would totally appreciate it when we got to Florida. Of course contrary to popular advice, we over packed! Who knew you would wear the same shorts and tacky t-shirt each morning until you had to dress for dinner? Where you would graduate to longer shorts and nicer t-shirts? The poker faces of all who served were awe-inspiring. No doubt they attend "how to look at tackily dressed tourists as they may be sitting on a cool million or ten that they may inflict upon you if you ignore their tacky t shirts and shorts?" Aha! simple economics.
Arrived in Ft Lauderdale and found a friendly cabbie to the hotel. Couldn't understand each other, but I'm still guessing friendly. Hyatt Regency-Pier 66 -what? Poison dix? Hyatt. Hey Zeus? Pier 66. Pick up sticks? Here's the f----g address. Oh yes-Hyatt Regency. No - Hotel 6 you crazy cabbie. Come on. The place sports mucho expensive rooms, a marina where God parks his/her yacht and a restaurant on the top of the building so big it has its own lighthouse. Well there's $20 I won't see again. WTF we're on vacation. Go with the flow. Caught up with everyone later in the evening. But first I had a blind date with Marcie's friend Ramah in the bar who knew what I looked like but I didn't know what she looked like. Must have walked up to 14 single women (and men) saying Ramah, Roma, Nemo, Screamo until someone with an infectious laugh finally acknowledged me. As I said this place is where the Supreme Being would park if he/she took a vacation. So apparently I was trying to hit on lesser gods. The bartender was fun though. (see note above about not judging a customer by their tacky shorts and t shirts).
Dinner was a hilarious affair with much noise and exotic cocktails. Dad and I can't hear so most of the hilarity went over our heads. Just smile and nod-works on so many levels. Apparently we all hit our various beds at different times and levels of inebriation. Some, who shall remain nameless, were carried to bed, but all were up and at 'em the next day which is all a vacation asks of us. After silliness with Hispanic named pens (I am Jose by the way), more exotic cocktails and general malaise, we toddle off to the boat. Loading two vans with all of the over packed luggage became symbolic of every venture. 14 people and their various articles of comfort create quite a caravan. Trekking over the alps with elephants would have been simpler, but then I will defend my need for several types of footwear, because, well, you just never know! However I will admit, though I tried to change several times, I did not wear all I brought. Plus I bought more which extended my inability to wear everything exponentially.
Take off Sunday afternoon was dramatic (no, no one fell overboard), romantic and celebratory with glasses of wine and extreme overtures to all those on shore who toasted our high seas adventure. Very cool from the balcony. And I found where my first on board bar was located (to buy the Bon Voyage wine) with my new friend Ramah.
Chapter 2 to follow.
Arrived in Ft Lauderdale and found a friendly cabbie to the hotel. Couldn't understand each other, but I'm still guessing friendly. Hyatt Regency-Pier 66 -what? Poison dix? Hyatt. Hey Zeus? Pier 66. Pick up sticks? Here's the f----g address. Oh yes-Hyatt Regency. No - Hotel 6 you crazy cabbie. Come on. The place sports mucho expensive rooms, a marina where God parks his/her yacht and a restaurant on the top of the building so big it has its own lighthouse. Well there's $20 I won't see again. WTF we're on vacation. Go with the flow. Caught up with everyone later in the evening. But first I had a blind date with Marcie's friend Ramah in the bar who knew what I looked like but I didn't know what she looked like. Must have walked up to 14 single women (and men) saying Ramah, Roma, Nemo, Screamo until someone with an infectious laugh finally acknowledged me. As I said this place is where the Supreme Being would park if he/she took a vacation. So apparently I was trying to hit on lesser gods. The bartender was fun though. (see note above about not judging a customer by their tacky shorts and t shirts).
Dinner was a hilarious affair with much noise and exotic cocktails. Dad and I can't hear so most of the hilarity went over our heads. Just smile and nod-works on so many levels. Apparently we all hit our various beds at different times and levels of inebriation. Some, who shall remain nameless, were carried to bed, but all were up and at 'em the next day which is all a vacation asks of us. After silliness with Hispanic named pens (I am Jose by the way), more exotic cocktails and general malaise, we toddle off to the boat. Loading two vans with all of the over packed luggage became symbolic of every venture. 14 people and their various articles of comfort create quite a caravan. Trekking over the alps with elephants would have been simpler, but then I will defend my need for several types of footwear, because, well, you just never know! However I will admit, though I tried to change several times, I did not wear all I brought. Plus I bought more which extended my inability to wear everything exponentially.
Take off Sunday afternoon was dramatic (no, no one fell overboard), romantic and celebratory with glasses of wine and extreme overtures to all those on shore who toasted our high seas adventure. Very cool from the balcony. And I found where my first on board bar was located (to buy the Bon Voyage wine) with my new friend Ramah.
Chapter 2 to follow.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
WINTER DRIVING RANT
Why is it that Michigan drivers, who should know better, cannot drive in bad weather? News Flash! You cannot go the speed limit with a couple inches of snow over black ice. Your first clue would be meeting the back end of your car as you naively believe you are moving forward. Not natural - get a clue.
I am the innocent bystander cautiously feeling my way, testing my brakes and providing room between me and the one in front. Which obviously means to those in back of me that I AM NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH. Thus they now need to educate me by climbing on my bumper and staying there. I believe I should charge rent for carrying said freeloaders. I smile benignly as they race around me at the earliest opportunity. No wait, I smile benignly as we meet up later at their ditch of choice. Much more satisfying than wearing out that middle finger as I need both hands for the wheel.
I am the innocent bystander cautiously feeling my way, testing my brakes and providing room between me and the one in front. Which obviously means to those in back of me that I AM NOT GOING FAST ENOUGH. Thus they now need to educate me by climbing on my bumper and staying there. I believe I should charge rent for carrying said freeloaders. I smile benignly as they race around me at the earliest opportunity. No wait, I smile benignly as we meet up later at their ditch of choice. Much more satisfying than wearing out that middle finger as I need both hands for the wheel.
HOLIDAY SCENES - 2008
The weather has not been cooperating this holiday season. I used to love winter until I realized I had to drive in it!! Which means I have apparently hated it many more years than I liked it. Which kind of negates the whole I used to love winter thingee. Oh well.
I think it was Mother who noted a little snow on Christmas Eve is nice as long as it stays on the grassy areas. Maybe she didn't say that, but it sounds like her. Not to mention the cold and thaw and freezing rain, and oh did I mention the fog???? The plan was Christmas Eve prime rib at the Davis' but we all wimped out based on the weather forecast. Of course now that Lori works in White Hall, wimping out because of weather is a way of life. Anyway everyone but Brandon got the word, but I assume they fed him anyway.
We switched it to Saturday and ran into a little fog. Ha Ha, a little fog. You couldn't have cut through that fog with a mix master. Led to a very entertaining trip over and back. The return trip in fog so thick you were just hoping to glimpse the lines in the road occasionally much like the hot rod Lincoln song "the lines on the road just looked like dots". The Burt man just plowed through at 60 MPH and I clutched the door handle all the way home, like what was I going to do? Jump out if there was an imminent crash? Matt was cool and Kristen was nauseated the entire way back so I am very glad the windows on the Buick open wide enough if we needed it if you get my drift LOL. At any rate the dinner and appetizers were totally worth it.
We had the usual dinner at Chez Ide for Christmas day. We tried a little duck with the ham as we did not do the turkey this year. Though what I'm going to do with a 23 lb turkey down the road I have no idea. It was exotic and we cooked it beer can style on the grill. Brian and I enjoyed duck liver, er excuse me, pate untreated - still good. Then everyone but the cook had a little duck which meant the cook never got a taste! Oh well. After dinner we enjoyed a raucous Naughty Santa where the "jewish" boys traded the most times (a new record). Wait a minute they don't celebrate Christmas- oh well, everyone stays, everyone plays.
Of course independently the Committee got gifts for each other ranging from horoscope jewelry, Mother-inspired butterflies and bracelets. So funny Kristen got gifts for us that were the same that we got for each other! But hers were nicer and more expensive so we stayed with her choices. Obviously she knows what we wanted!
Some of the Committee and one rep from the Junior Committee got together for a hilarious luncheon at the Beltline Bar between Christmas and New Year's. It's so strange, but so great to hang with my daughter as one of the "girls" and have a blast. She is a riot and fits right in with the older "girls" no problem. I was honored to be included and I probably would have been ok not being invited, but she knows me better than myself.
New Year's Eve was another gathering with mucho good food, mostly appetizers. We began with English crackers where each participant got a different toned whistle. Brian volunteered as conductor and we proceeded to render great harm to beloved Christmas carols. Course it's hard to toot your horn when you are laughing hysterically. We would have been much better after a couple of drinks or at least we assumed so. We decided not to test out that theory.
Next we had a very spirited and cutthroat game of Trivia '90. And either my sister or my daughter said "Sweet" actually means "competitive" in our language. We do not play to lose..... I still contend we would have won if my beloved but stubborn psychologist brother-in-law did not require scientific proof of every right answer I blurted out! Ann Murry indeed! Of course his recollection of our ongoing altercations may be different. I do remember thumping him a few times as he inadvertently offered clues to the competition. ARGGHHHH - I do not lose at Trivia.
Then for 2 hours I proceeded to lose at every hand of poker. I made up for it the last half hour and made back all my losses. Course I wouldn't have let anyone quit until I did. Hey if Mother could play all night so can I. Then we all collapsed on various air mattresses and beds at Marcie's place. But of course that couldn't be the end of it.
Burt and my mattress slowly deflated over the first half hour quietly and insistently. When I realized I could not turn over without rolling into the middle gasping for air like a freaking beached whale, we ended up on either end of the couch, my feet on his stomach. Much giggling ensued and then next thing I knew the Burt was on the floor in his sleeping bag. And Jamie slept through the whole debacle! Ahh to be an eleven year old boy. Needless to say we were on the road early the next day and proceeded to crash New Year's Day.
I think it was Mother who noted a little snow on Christmas Eve is nice as long as it stays on the grassy areas. Maybe she didn't say that, but it sounds like her. Not to mention the cold and thaw and freezing rain, and oh did I mention the fog???? The plan was Christmas Eve prime rib at the Davis' but we all wimped out based on the weather forecast. Of course now that Lori works in White Hall, wimping out because of weather is a way of life. Anyway everyone but Brandon got the word, but I assume they fed him anyway.
We switched it to Saturday and ran into a little fog. Ha Ha, a little fog. You couldn't have cut through that fog with a mix master. Led to a very entertaining trip over and back. The return trip in fog so thick you were just hoping to glimpse the lines in the road occasionally much like the hot rod Lincoln song "the lines on the road just looked like dots". The Burt man just plowed through at 60 MPH and I clutched the door handle all the way home, like what was I going to do? Jump out if there was an imminent crash? Matt was cool and Kristen was nauseated the entire way back so I am very glad the windows on the Buick open wide enough if we needed it if you get my drift LOL. At any rate the dinner and appetizers were totally worth it.
We had the usual dinner at Chez Ide for Christmas day. We tried a little duck with the ham as we did not do the turkey this year. Though what I'm going to do with a 23 lb turkey down the road I have no idea. It was exotic and we cooked it beer can style on the grill. Brian and I enjoyed duck liver, er excuse me, pate untreated - still good. Then everyone but the cook had a little duck which meant the cook never got a taste! Oh well. After dinner we enjoyed a raucous Naughty Santa where the "jewish" boys traded the most times (a new record). Wait a minute they don't celebrate Christmas- oh well, everyone stays, everyone plays.
Of course independently the Committee got gifts for each other ranging from horoscope jewelry, Mother-inspired butterflies and bracelets. So funny Kristen got gifts for us that were the same that we got for each other! But hers were nicer and more expensive so we stayed with her choices. Obviously she knows what we wanted!
Some of the Committee and one rep from the Junior Committee got together for a hilarious luncheon at the Beltline Bar between Christmas and New Year's. It's so strange, but so great to hang with my daughter as one of the "girls" and have a blast. She is a riot and fits right in with the older "girls" no problem. I was honored to be included and I probably would have been ok not being invited, but she knows me better than myself.
New Year's Eve was another gathering with mucho good food, mostly appetizers. We began with English crackers where each participant got a different toned whistle. Brian volunteered as conductor and we proceeded to render great harm to beloved Christmas carols. Course it's hard to toot your horn when you are laughing hysterically. We would have been much better after a couple of drinks or at least we assumed so. We decided not to test out that theory.
Next we had a very spirited and cutthroat game of Trivia '90. And either my sister or my daughter said "Sweet" actually means "competitive" in our language. We do not play to lose..... I still contend we would have won if my beloved but stubborn psychologist brother-in-law did not require scientific proof of every right answer I blurted out! Ann Murry indeed! Of course his recollection of our ongoing altercations may be different. I do remember thumping him a few times as he inadvertently offered clues to the competition. ARGGHHHH - I do not lose at Trivia.
Then for 2 hours I proceeded to lose at every hand of poker. I made up for it the last half hour and made back all my losses. Course I wouldn't have let anyone quit until I did. Hey if Mother could play all night so can I. Then we all collapsed on various air mattresses and beds at Marcie's place. But of course that couldn't be the end of it.
Burt and my mattress slowly deflated over the first half hour quietly and insistently. When I realized I could not turn over without rolling into the middle gasping for air like a freaking beached whale, we ended up on either end of the couch, my feet on his stomach. Much giggling ensued and then next thing I knew the Burt was on the floor in his sleeping bag. And Jamie slept through the whole debacle! Ahh to be an eleven year old boy. Needless to say we were on the road early the next day and proceeded to crash New Year's Day.
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