Procrastination (But I Digress)

And Then There Were Two

2012-01-26T11:33:00.000-08:00

Wow, the train took forever last night to get me home, but no matter, Kim and Victoria didn't start until late (although they never did tell me if the Bryan Brother's pulled it out, darn). Kim looked great! Azarenka looked better. There were nerves on both sides. Any time one was down, just look away and they'd pull themselves out and be on top. Three sets of a roller coaster and Azarenka has made it into her first final (can that possibly be right--she is an awesome player) and it is time for Kim to say good-bye to Australia. This is bittersweet, since Kim (a long time ago) dated Australian tennis superstar, Lleyton Hewitt and she was known as Aussie Kim (even though she's Belgium). Now she's a mom and she wants to have another child, so this is her last season in tennis--heartbreak for us--she will be missed.

And then before you can get your breath, Petra and Maria take the stage. I looked at the clock and it was already 9:30--I couldn't believe it was so late and yet their match was just starting. Kvitova came out fighting hard--making Maria look a lot older than she is (she's only 24--I think Serena has already had her 30th). Maria fought for every point, but Petra just looked a lot better in the beginning. And then the cracks began to show. Kvitova was soooo nervous and Maria was soooo determined. Another roller coaster ride--one minute I was sure that Kvitova had the match well in hand and I was sadly ready to say good-bye to Maria and then Maria had the match masterfully in hand and I was sadly ready to say good-bye to Petra--better luck next time. And then Petra would not go away. She found more weapons and then Maria made errors and then Petra made errors and then Maria hung on against terrible odds and then Petra held on against terrible odds. It took three sets, but Maria did it (Petra's nerves were too much in the end).

So the finals will be Maria Sharapova looking for her second Australian Open Championship, but her first after shoulder surgery. The commentators could not come up with a single athlete who had that serious surgery and came back from it to win a major. Against Victoria Azarenka--a very solid, powerful, talented player who is in her first final in a major. Maria will be the favorite, but Azarenka is the one to watch. Even though it is her first final, I do not expect nerves from this one (of course, I didn't expect them from Kvitova either who had won the French--oh well, I love Maria's chances on this one). The winner will be the new number one women's ranking which is usually not a good thing--past number one's crash and burn or never win majors--Maria, however, I am sure, will be happy to chance it.

And then I crashed. It was almost midnight and the men's semifinal was going to start at 12:30. I set up the DVR and prayed. At 5:30 a.m. I was wide awake, hoping that I could watch the dream match--Men's semifinal, NADAL v. FEDERER! The DVR worked, I was so happy. I settled in to watch holding the remote, since if it went five sets, I was going to have to fast forward over some play in order to still make the train at 8:30. The first set was an impossible nail biter--could Fed really beat my Nadal. He seemed to have all the answers, but then so did Nadal. Nadal made Fed look human and not so magic after all. It was amazing. No more elegant Fed--Nadal made him scrap and scramble and jump and miss and the net, oh the net was not Fed's friend at all. But Nadal was no longer the king either. He too did not get the impossible shot that he usually makes look routine. Oh my, Fed won the first set and was up a break in the second. How could this be? Then Nadal took command, never say die, he broke right back. This one went back and forth so much. The commentators said that these two know each other's game so well that there are no surprises. At 8:00 a.m. I was so nervous--would I miss my train. I looked at the train schedule. If they went to a fifth set, I was going to have to wait until 10:45 for the next train. I could possibly drive in, but I'm staying in Glendale tonight and then I have the kids on Friday and I'd have two cars in Glendale and have to drive back on Monday night--it is just not going to work. Please win in the fourth!! put an end to this.

I could pause the game--Did I? I did made the train, but that is all I will say, because some people have not had the opportunity to watch it yet.

Hot, Hot, Hot

2012-01-24T11:56:00.000-08:00

So that is the condition in Melbourne this week. Maria is playing really excellent and then her serve goes and we hold our breath and then it comes back and we breath a sigh of relief. Lisicki looked like she had the goods, but in the end Maria held on and she's still in the race. Amazingly Zvonareva is out and a qualifyier, Makarova (whom I had never heard of) is through to face Sharapova in the quarters. If Maria has a problem with a qualifier, then she deserves to lose, but I don't think she will have any problem at all. Then she plays Kvitova--oh my. She is a new up and commer who won a major last year and was in some finals the year before. She has a great spirit, but I'll probably be rooting for Maria.

On the other side, oh my, oh my. When Kim Clijsters turned her ankle, I was heartbroken for her. Then when Li Na self imploaded, I was heartbroken for her (thrilled times three for Kim, but heartbroken for her). Next Kim faced Caroline. I love Caroline. I love Kim. Kim had an injury and Caroline is really, really hungry for her first slam win. She's a scraper. But then so is Kim. Kim Clijsters played so awesomely. Everything was clicking. Caroline doesn't give up--ever, but she just got out played by someone with a lot more weapons. Kim next faces Azarenka. Another commer, who's won some majors and been in the mix a lot in the past few years. Kim will really have her work cut out for her, but with the momentum that she has, I like her chances.

On the men's side, we are getting used to this final four that is shaping up. I thought that Del Po would put up a better fight against Federer, but Fed had it all the way. I was not surprized that Berdych won one set off of Nadal, but I was also not surprized that Berdych is out and we have the famed Federer/Nadal match up next.

Djokovic against Hewitt was not easy to watch. Hewitt works sooo hard and Djokovic didn't need his A game. And then on the other side--a new comer to the field, Kei Nishikori. Again, if Murray can't beat this guy, this gift in the draw, then he doesn't deserve the next round. Murray has been playing very well this tournament. Djok better bring his A game in that match up.

Honorable mention to Serena going out to a qualifier--it just was not her night. And I expected Ivanovic to put up more of a match against Kvitova--That Petra has a great game. Maria will really need to bring her best to beat her (if she gets there). I didn't get to see Bartoli play this tournament and I was surprised and a little encouraged that Zheng Jie could take her. It was so awful that Monfils was injured and didn't play 100%. If you tuned in on my recomendation, try again when he's fit--he really is the most fun to watch of all of them.

So knock on wood that there won't be rain, but I'm sure they'd love a cloud or two, cause it is very hot at the Australian Open.

Tennis Anyone

2012-01-20T10:36:00.000-08:00

It's the most wonderful time of the year--ok, the most wonderful time happens four times a year, but it's been a really long time since last Summer and the US Open--I can't even remember who won (except that I don't think it was my Nadal).

So a few years back, when I first discovered the Australian Open, Serena had been slipping out of the top 10, focusing on her fashion or some such stuff and all of a sudden she refocused at the Australian Open and won it all. They were the first court to have retractable roofs so that they could play rain or shine--a very big deal. The wonderful thing about the grand slams are the interesting match ups that come out of the draw. It used to be that the same old, same old, always made it through. Maybe it is just me, but the field is sooo sooo deep these days.

On the women's side, as much as I love Serena and Kim Clijsters, and Jankovic (she is playing mixed doubles with Tomic--Wow,Wow,Wow) and Maria and Li Na and even Kvitova and Kuznetsova (and it is sooo sad that Sam Stosur went out in the first round--the first round in her own country), I want Caroline to win. She is an awesome player. This has to be some kind of a record to be number one in your sport, but to have never won a major. She's going to have to beat ALL of my favorite players until the semi's and Serena is on the other side so the final won't be a picnic either. We'll see. Nadia is already out, heartbreak, but at least she is still in doubles.

On the men's side, there are no Americans left in the field. When I saw the result of the Hewitt/Roddick match I was very surprised. I was even more surprised when I realized that it was in three sets and then I saw those dreaded three letters "ret". INJURY, oh no. Roddick was injured and had to retire. I couldn't wait to see the dvr, so I read the web story and the comments. A hamstring injury, ouch. Earlier in the game so he played with the injury for a while, double ouch. The comments really slammed Hewitt. I love Hewitt. I love Roddick too, but I took offense at the negative treatment of Hewitt.

Until I watched the match. Oh my. Hewitt took his "I hate the world" pills. Roddick played well, but not great. Hewitt played well, but not great. In the third set, it was very clear that Roddick wasn't moving, but Hewitt didn't run away with the game or anything, Roddick was right in it. Since I already knew that he retired, I expected him to do it at almost every turn. Finally Patrick (McEnroe the commentator on ESPN2) said Andy had to be in a lot of pain, but he doesn't show it and he knows that everyone paid a lot of money to see this match and he wants to give them a match. The camera was close up on Roddick at one point and he was tearing, but he used a towel on his face and was ready for the next serve. It was agony waiting for him to retire. I started to get very angry with Hewitt showing his angry guy fist pump for every point that he won. He knew damn well that Roddick was hurt and not 100%. I started to understand the comments.

I watched the first round match of Tomic v. Verdasco. I felt bad for Tomic (an Australian--really young guy, very successful as a junior) to have to go up such a great veteran player in his first round. It never occured to me that Tomic would win. But oh, baby, he did. An epic five set nail bitter. And then Tomic beat Querry (an American with promise that has not been realized to date) and then he beat Dolgopolov, another fine player and another five set match. Now he will face Federer. Tomic you had a great run--you are tall with terrific skills, but don't even think about winning against my Roger Federer.

Roger played Ivo Karlovic in the last round, oh my. The went to a tie break in the first set. Ivo was up a mini break and I thought what the h*ll, does just anybody think they can beat Roger these days. I mean Karlovic is a really good player, don't get me wrong, he's been around for a long time. It is one thing for Safin (who had won a major) to think he stood a change against Roger (it's probably several years ago, but I still remember it from the period during which Roger could not be beat), but Ivo hasn't ever won a major. The next three points were poetry in motion.

Let me just say here, that I've had a hard time liking Federer. The guy doesn't smile and he was the only player to challenge my favorite Nadal. Roger always has a non descript look on his face, sometimes a scowl, but usually no emotion at all. And he appears to win so effortlessly that it is easy to miss the poetry of his movements, the shear gorgeousness of his form. He makes tennis look like anyone could just pick up a racket and hit the ball exactly where they want to. With Nadal and Roddick, you see force and power, with Roger, it is finess, a soft touch, magic. I guess it is hard to call a magician a skilled athlete, because it really looks like magic, but I digress.

When Ivo went up the mini break, they showed a shot of Mirka, Roger's wife (I'm probably spelling her name wrong). I don't like Mirka. I didn't like her when she was the long time fiance and I didn't like her as the wife. Roger is the premier athlete in the world, of all time and she looks like a sour puss. She's always frowning. She always looks mad or bored. Uncle Tony (Nadal's coach and his Uncle) always looks serious too, but Mirka, well she looks kind of mean. So Ivo goes up his mini break and his box goes crazy they are so happy. Mirka frowns, wrings her hands a little and I think, I don't like you Mirka.

And then Roger wins the next point. Ivo's box was perplexed. How did Roger win that point? It was over so fast--did they even see the ball? And Wow, Roger has a beautiful serve. How have I never noticed what a gorgeous serve Roger has. His movement is so graceful and beautiful. And when he won set point, they showed a shot of Mirka. She had the most beautiful, wonderful smile on her face. I have never seen that woman smile. It gives me hope for mankind. Roger is such an awesome player that I almost think he loses some points on purpose a little, so that when he pulls out the win, we will actually appreciate it and reward him with that big smile.

I still want Nadal to win the whole thing.

P.S. If you get a change to see a Monfil's match, don't miss it. Cahill said that when he comes back in his next life, he wants to come back as Gil Monfils--who wouldn't want to wake up every morning and be that happy, wonderful guy. He has so much fun on the court and he is such an awesome player. Me too.

Are You Ready for Some Fitness?

2011-12-20T17:52:00.000-08:00

So weight watchers is still going good. I've lost over 6 pounds (even after I went a week without tracking and felt like I was eating too much). The gal who is leading the meetings that I attend is very funny and down to earth. I like her a lot. She told us that Charles Barkley is going to be a new spokes person for weight watchers--and that there is a new component to get us more active.

Well, curves is not working for me anymore. I used to go early in the morning--walking there. It was a nice habit, but now I take the train and that is not going to work. The curves near my new place is dark and very, very crowded. Not ideal.

Annie had a heartattack two years ago and she got a personal trainer who helped her lose weight and get fit. Doesn't it sound really expensive to get a personal trainer. Annie is perpetually unemployed and always broke, so when she said that she had a personal trainer, it started to sound doable. I recently saw her and she told me that she couldn't afford the personal trainer any longer, but that she goes to the gym religiously. She belongs to LA Fitness and the price was more reasonable than I thought it would be. So I looked into locations. There's one near weight watchers, but not my new place and not the office. So then I looked at 24 hour fitness--there's one by the office, but not that close to my new place. Then I looked at Ballys. This is the place that I joined when I was twenty something and purchased a two year membership that I NEVER used. I had the key chain that I used and called my $300 key chain, but I digress. I poked my head into the Ballys and it was crowded and depressing. I don't like gyms and I like that it was women only at curves.

So then I looked at Total Woman. There is one by the new place and the office. I forced myself to go inside and just look after the leader at weight watchers recommended it. It was lovely. Not crowded. Actually rich looking because they also have a spa. So in my head, I'm thinking, yea, this would be nice, but I can't afford this place.

You know how you are supposed to avoid three people in life: used car salesman, time share salesperson and gym membership sales persons. I broke my own carnal rule and sat down with the very nice (not disgustingly skinny or athletic) gym membership sales person. She took me on a tour. Very nice. There's a hot tub. I don't like hot tubs, but it was so warm in that room that I wanted to like hot tubs. There was a zumba class going on. I could do that. That actually looks kindof fun. Now the gym part had lots of treadmills and stationary bikes and stair things and funny looking machines, but it was also an optical illusion, because there were mirrors on all of the walls. It looked a lot bigger than it was and I had to remind myself over and over--it is not crowded because everyone is in the zumba class and there are fewer machines than it appears. But it was too late. I was smiling approvingly from ear to ear. It looked awesome.

When we sat down to talk brass tacks, I was astonished at the price. It is less than curves. How is that possible? And there is no charge for the classes. When I belonged to 24 hour fitness for a minute, the classes were extra. The salesperson said that there was no charge for the babysitting (really cute room for the kids on Saturday when I have them), but later she gave me a gift card to cover a month of free babysitting. The spa stuff is separate and costs, but the facial that I wanted was on special. (You can see this starting to add up--but wait...) So now I was feeling like maybe I should have a personal trainer to get me started. There was a special: 4 half sessions for only $200. It was pricey but maybe doable. This is my health. My life is toast if I can't walk and my knees are going in that direction. I could amortize this cost over the year and then it is not so bad to spend a bit more.

If you have guessed that very charming sales person did not recommend trying to get started with just four half sessions, you win. She talked me into a bit more than that and I am amortizing in my head over more than just one year. Also, the contract reminds me of the waste disposal contract that we had at the condo. There was a one week period once a year that you were allowed to cancel the contract without being charged for an additional penalty of one years contract price. This contract is not that bad, but it is harsh. I can cancel anytime with 15 days notice before the monthly payment date. I've paid for first and last month, so I have gym membership for another 45 days after I cancel. I can save $24 per year, if I pay for a year in advance, but I'm not willing to pay for a year in advance until I know that I will go enough to make it worth it.

So my new personal trainer called me. I set her straight right away--no diet advice. [I have made dieticians cry--it is not pretty.] To her credit, she agreed as long as I don't faint. She won't tolerate anorexia. I laughed for a long time at that one and assured her, there'd be no fainting. She wants me to bring a towel, because she said that I will sweat. I told her that she has me confused with an athlete, but that if she thinks she can get me to sweat enough to need a towel, she can try. We'll see. Healthy, sure; crazy; not so much.

Stay tuned.

The Land of Hap pee ness

2011-12-05T15:56:00.000-08:00

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post. The happiest place on earth has been peed upon and lost a bit of its luster.

I took Caitlyn to Disneyland on Saturday.

The Good:

It is Christmas time, so it was all decorated so wonderfully. We went to the Princess show (they taught the girls to curtsy and Caity danced with Cinderella--the heartstopping wonderment of dancing with your favorite person on the planet). Caitlyn was in another dimension of happiness that we mere mortals can only dream of. Then we went to Minnie Mouse's house and Caitlyn got to hug Minnie Mouse--her favorite. She played with everything--everything in Minnie's house and ran next door to Mickey's house. Now she was getting overloaded, so we did not wait in line to see Mickey and like a drug addict her eyes darted around toon town to see what else there was to do. We went to Donald Duck's house and waved at Goofy from the top. We went on the little roller coaster that she hated, but when offered another ride, she didn't hestitate to say yes and then scream that she wanted off the entire time. Then she forgot that she hated the roller coaster and was very upset that she couldn't go on the huge one in California Adventure because she wasn't tall enough.

She was very grown up and wanted to go on the ferris wheel and then when we were at the top, she said she didn't like being so high up. She had lots of fun in the toy story ride and was thrilled that she "beat" Aunt Kathy's score (which I figured out she couldn't really read the numbers, so I just had to tell her that she won and she was exstatic). We had pizza and chicken nuggets and french fries and popcorn--the four major (junk) food groups. And although the fireworks were cancelled due to high winds, Caitlyn was asleep by then anyway. Before she fell asleep, she got the prize that she most wanted: Princess, Minnie Mouse Ears with a crown and a veil. [Do those disney merchandizers know their audience or what!] The child had a magical day.

The Bad:

It was so very crowded. I had rented a stoller and that was really the only way to keep track of a six year old. I kept running into people's feet and getting hit with people's large backpacks as they turned around. Some of the lines had lanes that were so skinny, I felt like a sardine and that was even before I was reduced to picking up the pretty cranky "waiting-in-line" Caitlyn (as opposed to the excited "I want to do that again" Caitlyn) and holding her until my arms wanted to fall off. At the end of the day, she still frantically wanted to see more attractions, so I took her up the stairs to the Tarzen house (it used to be the Swiss Family Robinson). It was about 8 flights of stairs, then a wiggly bridge to the tree. My knees were screaming going up, up, up all the stairs and then at the bridge, Caitlyn absolutely refused to cross it. I dragged her in a way that I'm not proud of, but I couldn't face those stairs without an attaction payoff. [She did absolutely love the attraction scenes from Tarzan, even if she had no idea about the story.]

The Ugly:

A few years ago, I stood in line for two hours just to get the tickets to go into Disneyland. The entire time in line, long as it was, I was struck by how happy everyone in the line was. The excitement was palpable. So for the most part, my experience up until now has been that the lines, while long, are ok--not horrible--sometimes almost pleasant. For some reason, I have fond memories of the lines into the Haunted House and Pirates of the Caribian--perhaps because the lines are almost always twice or three or twenty times as long as the ride itself, but I digress.

Caitlyn and I stood in line for the Dumbo ride. The sun was just starting to dip. The lanes were very skinny. The lady in front of us had two children. Then she let three adults and two more children cut into the line, as she was saving their place. It had already been a long day and Caitlyn was pretty heavy. I was leaning against a railing, but the lanes were so skinny, that I didn't always have space to lean, so maybe the expression on my face when all those people got in front of us was not happy.

One of the ladies who cut was trying to convince two more adults to come in line with them, but they declined and waited outside the line. So this group had an adult for each kid, plus two extra adults out of the line and they had no problem saving their place and cutting in and out. YET, this horrible, horrible, nay I will even add, evil person (I hate to think that she is the mother--probably the drug addicted cousin with no children judging by the extrordinate amount of eyeshadow and glassy eyes) takes the youngest child--maybe three or four years old--pulls down his pants and gets him to pee on the grass in line. He's crying--he doesn't want to. Evil B***h is yelling at him to go. I closed my eyes and tried to transport myself to another dimension and made sure that Caitlyn was facing the other direction. We had another 30 minutes in line with these mutants. The small child left the line before the ride--never did see where he went.

Caitlyn enjoyed the Dumbo ride and her "let's do that again" Caitlyn self was hard to resist, but I can never set foot in Fantasyland ever again. The luster stinks.

When the fireworks were cancelled, the shear mass of people leaving did not give me any alternative, but to get pushed out with the flow--no easy task with a stroller and a sleeping child covered with every bit of clothing we had to keep warm, two drinks (no cupholders in the rented stroller) that had spilled all over the every bit of clothing that we had, so that we had to buy a new sweatshirt for bottem layer, a tub of popcorn (that spilled, of course) and all the actriments that come with spending over 12 hours at Disneyland. Everything that was disposable, was disposed of upon returning the stroller and I carried all the keep pile stuff and the sleeping Caitlyn until my arms did actually give out. Then I had to act like a drill sargent to make Caitlyn stay awake and walking until we got to our destination (by which time she was wide awake and asking for a movie that I had no way to provide, oye. She fell asleep to Seinfeld.)

I keep trying to remember the wonderment part, but the pee part keeps stinking up the joint. It might be a long time before I go there again.

Teaser

2011-11-28T10:17:00.000-08:00

My three favorite authors had books come out within the past couple of weeks. I read the first one the first day it came out (in hardback prices on my ipad)--straight through. The second was a large paperback version (higher price, but still on the ipad) and I held out three whole days before I read it in two. The last, I held out for about five days and read it in one day (spilling over to this morning). At the end of the book there was a teaser for this author's next book. Not until June. June! It is not even Christmas and my three favorite authors are not only done for the year, but might not have another book out until June. Actually, now that I think about it, the teaser for the second author was April--but that's next year--months and months away.

Kindle gives little blurbs about the books online, so I went back to old books by an author I like, but hadn't followed since the beginning of her career hoping to find a gem. The book only had two stars (out of five, so not encouraging), but I was a little desperate for something to read, so I got it. It turns out the blurb was not very descriptive, because I had read it before (must have been on my ireader on my iphone, because those got erased when I went to Borders and tried to sign onto their internet--it is all a grand conspiracy). Anyhoo, this experience is making me more cautious about getting older books.

It is inconceivable to me that there are millions and millions of books and that I can't find anything to read. On the other hand, I'm semi addicted to books and reading and I would do nothing all day long but read if I had books I wanted to read to read, so purhaps in the larger sceme of things it is all for the best.

April, April, April and then June, June, June. Oye. It is a good thing the card game spite and malice is endless. [Of course, my ipad went dark on me again for about five minutes yesterday (in the middle of book number 3--imagine the horror), but it did come back on. I might be a little too obsessed.]

Broken Window

2011-11-08T12:39:00.000-08:00

The threashold on my front door is broken--the large rubber strip in the middle was off track, so it prevented the door from closing easily. Sometimes if you didn't slam it all the way closed, it would just pop back open. I showed it to Jo, the painter extraordinaire and he said he would fix it, but then he didn't. I never used the front door if I could help it. I was very careful closing it properly, but a lot of people come and go at my house, so I worried.

Adrienne called a week ago last friday and said, "Come home right now--we've been robbed." She said that when she got home she noticed that the front door was open, but just thought that one of us had left without closing it properly. It took her a little while to realize that her computer was missing and that we'd been robbed.

All the way driving home I was lamenting the fact that I am not handy. A person who is not handy might have no business owning a home. A person who is not handy, really ought to have a handyman on retainer so that little things like a threashold off its track will not escalate into a major problem. We've been robbed--that's pretty major. What is the point of having a door at all, if it won't close. Lots of negative thoughts run through your mind when you are racing home at such a time.

So I got there and the police officer to take our report was there. He said don't touch anything, because they will dust for fingerprints. Really, I thought? That's odd. And yet, it was also soothing. The police are actually going to try to solve this petty crime. I am so lucky to live in such a nice City. Of course several hours ago, I was so lucky to live in a City with no crime--I don't live there anymore.

As we went through the house assessing the damage and loss, there were only a few things missing (mostly Adrienne's stuff--sorry kid). We just don't have very much to steal. A yard sale soaking wet would have a hard time coming up with the matching money on Clean House. They took Adam's computer which is a real bummer, but not nearly as bad as them taking Adrienne's laptop which she had lots of files and pictures on.

So we are looking around and the police officer says, here's where they got in at the back window. They actually broke the back window to get in. The broken glass was on the windowsill which I thought was odd. If they smashed the window, glass would have been on the floor. My theory is that they had a small tap hammer or something to gently and maybe quietly break the glass right next to the lock to get it open. I'm probably over romantizing it, but that's where my head went.

Now the front door--I can solve that problem. We have a heavy duty screen door with a killer lock--no one can get through that way if we lock that lock. And we have a dead bolt on the back doors--no pushovers there. But I am not a handy person. And now, I have a broken window on a Friday afternoon that needs to be fixed right now. I called four places. Three handymen services and one glass place. The earliest appointment was the following wednesday. The handymen services just said no. The receptionist at my office heard me and offered to find someone. I was sceptical, but I was getting no where anyway. Adrienne offered to tape up some cardboard. That seemed like a very weak response, but I didn't have any better ideas.

Ok, I take that back. My idea was to go to home depot and buy a large piece of plywood and a nail gun. I envisioned putting the plywood on the side of the house over the window and then (I would also have to buy a step ladder, because I don't want to put up my giant ladder that pinched my toe the last time I used it and the chairs that I stand on in the house are probably not tall enough to reach to the top of the plywood) shoot the nail gun all around the sides to hermedically seal the window. And I was going to have to hurry, because I had to catch the train. Wait, the plywood would not fit in my car, so I was going to have to rent a truck. And I don't think that I can lift a piece of plywood by myself--this is getting complicated. How do people own homes--it is insane.

Luckily, Christy was super successful. The guys could come at 5:30 and would be done in time for me to catch the train. Except that they wanted cash in an envelope and the cash machine would give me just enough and no more, so I couldn't tip the guys going into overtime to fix my window. They were there and done in about four minutes. They could have charged me twice what they did, since fixing the window perfectly, beat the crap out of my other idea. [I don't think that I should be trusted with a nail gun. Just a cautionary thought.]

The window has an extra lock that makes it impossible to open with the regular lock (so the theives would be reduced to breaking out all the glass to try to get in that way--hopefully theives are too lazy to go to all that trouble). We never used the extra lock, because we usually left that window open all the time. We're using it now. I went through and locked all the rest of the windows. I thought I would be nervous sleeping there, but I'm not. Glendale still seems like a super safe City to me. And if the thieves talk to each other, they'll know not to bother with my house anymore. They must have been really frustrated to find so little to steal. They seemed to have opened every drawer, probably looking for that secret stash of cash that I can't afford to keep there. Lucky me.

Training Days

2011-10-28T13:28:00.000-07:00

So I am the type of person who will look for the very cheapest gas price. I usually will not drive out of my way to get the cheapest gas (luckily I have a few on my regular routes) and I will let the gas gauge go down to fumes so that I get gas during a regularly scheduled trip rather than making a special trip. I go to a lot of trouble planning and plotting to save that .45 cents per month.

Now that live in Chatsworth too, I am taking the train into Glendale and back. But not everyday. Some weeks I have as many as eight trips, but some weeks I have as few as three. And the train is actually more expensive than gas for my awesome prius that gets 42 miles to the gallon. However, I hate the drive and it is better for the environment to take the train, so take the train is the premier option. I really hate the drive.

In September, I purchased the monthly pass to Glendale. It was very expensive and I hated seeing that charge. All during the month I tried different train stations and different routes. If I have to go to court downtown, it took too long to get on the freeway from Glendale and it was actually faster to get on from the Burbank station which is right next to the freeway. [I drive from the train to court, because the train does not come back to Glendale between 9:50 a.m and 1:00 p.m.--that's a lot of wasted time when most of my court appearances are over at 10:15.] And the Burbank station is closer to my house and I was always needing to go by the house in Glendale for one thing or another even on the days I was going back to Chatsworth. So I figured out that I should get the train at Burbank, not Glendale. And it's cheaper. I love that.

However, when it came time to buy the monthly pass for October, I hesitated. I was having a lot of work done (the roof) on the Glendale house, so I was going to be there a lot more. I did a little quick math and realized that it would be cheaper to buy 10 trip passes for the month of October. The only problem is that there would be two trips left over that would go to waste if I bought a monthly pass in November. Then it was no longer cost effective to buy the second 10 trip pass.

After the first 10 trip pass was expired, I did a chart of my expected trips for the next three months and determined that it wasn't going to be cost effective to buy a monthly pass in November, because I have some evening classes and Caitlyn's girl scouts is starting. But I was also going to have trips left over on a 10 trip pass if I purchased a monthly pass for December, which I did determine will be totally cost effective. So now I have a chart of when to buy a 10 trip pass, the week to buy a weekly pass and the days that I have to buy single trips. I'm going to save about .45 cents.

Four Pounds

2011-10-25T13:57:00.000-07:00

So Michelle, my best friend from my college days, calls a few weeks ago to tell me that she needs a heart transplant. Are you on a list, I ask. No, she says. Her doctor wants her to lose weight first. She has to lose 12 lbs by her next appointment in January. A pound a week, I say, encouraging--you can do that. She says she wants to have lap band surgery. What??? I exclaim. You have a bad heart and you want to have surgery? That sounds awful. Surely no doctor would approve such an action. Yes, her doctor did approve it, since the weight is more of a threat to her weak heart than surgery would be. I'm not buying it, but luckily, Michelle needs $800 to be able to get the surgery and she hasn't saved it up yet. Nononononono, I tell her. Join Weight Watchers. Exercise. Lose your one pound a week the old fashion way--diet and exercise. Slow and steady wins the race.

So she hems and haws, but later she texts me that she will join weight watchers if I do. So I do. Now it would be great if we lived next door to each other and we could go walking (except she walks really slow and she always preferred running and I like to walk fast, but I'm not much into running) and go to weight watcher's meetings together (except I would know if she was cheating and I'd get in her face and vice versa and let's face it, we want to look good in public), but (sadly) we live on opposite sides of Los Angeles.

But she joined her weight watchers and I joined mine. I actually drank tomato juice last week and texted her and she texted back that she was drinking water with lemon (yuck). I stayed within my points (for a whole week, sarcastic woo hoo) and lost 1.4 lbs (the particular weight in day was a go to the dentist day, so I hadn't eaten all day, which is why my woo hoo is sarcastic). Michelle lost 1.5 lbs.

Now I have to try to figure out if I should let her win or become super competitive. I mean if I don't take it seriously, then she won't. But I am a super competitive person. She beat me (and since I had weighted in on a very unusual day, she probably beat me soundly).

And then there are the personal benefits of losing weight. A whole week on the plan and I'm sleeping better. The weight watcher cheer leader said that for every pound you lose, that's four pounds of pressure off your knees. My knees kill me and yet this morning I did not struggle as much (still struggled--four pounds off when I need over a hundred pounds off is not that much) going up the stairs.

So I have hit upon a plan of attack. I'm not going to go crazy. I'll do my best to stay within my points, but I know from experience the real way to lose weight is to sprinkle in some starvation. I won't do that. And I'll take my little losses and multiply them by four in my head, because my real goal is to take pressure off my knees. On paper I'll be slow and steady (and hopefully Michelle will beat me, because she needs to lose a bit more than me), but in my head I'll be slaughtering the competition. My little diet handicap.

By the way, tiny bags of m&m's are only 1 point, right? They're so little. I certainly don't need to check out something so tiny. I'm going with 1 point. The cheerleader said sugar is evil, but I'm not drinking that koolaid.

The Roof, The Roof, The Roof is off the House

2011-10-18T11:34:00.000-07:00

That's either the lyrics to a long repressed song I haven't heard in a while, or the lyrics to the song I should be writing and I am a repressed musical savant. But I digress (already--perhaps a new world's record).

My house needed a new roof...about three years ago. I had it fixed and they said, it will last one more year. The next year I got an estimate for a new roof--$12,000, but it is still in good shape--you have another two years worth. Then it leaked and I got it fixed and then it leaked some more and I got it fixed by a different new guy that was checked and double checked by my friend who knows about this stuff. Then ceilings started turning yellow. Ok, it's not leaking per se--no water dripping into a bucket, but yellow ceilings are not a good sign.

So I outlasted leaks and yellow ceilings and I got to my two years worth, so that I had no more excuses EXCEPT, I decided to sell the goliath and be done with it. Except, no one wanted to buy it. No one. Ok, I guess I have to keep it. So I went in to get a home equity loan, because I had been deferring maintenance and it would need some big time maintenance if I planned to rent out part of the house. They wanted me to get a roof first. We finally compromised that I would get a roof within three months. It's the third month. Yes, I scheduled the new roof for the beginning of the third month (long story. That is so funny that it would be a different long story as to why I waited so long to schedule the new roof, but I digress).

Then it rained. Not a slight drizzle like we had in June when it almost has never rained in June--a torrential rain. In October. In sunny California. It is usually hot in October. One year I had to run my air conditioner in October and I never turn that thing on. So the roof was postponed to the following week. It will take one week: Tear off on Monday, inspection that afternoon, start work on Tuesday and it will take rest of week to finish by Friday. I now have a three week cushion to my bank deadline, no worries.

Except we didn't pass inspection on Monday. The City wanted the roofer to use plywood for the whole roof (like I have the slightest clue what that means when Chuck tells me). That will cost me an additional $700. So I can wait, while he contests the inspector's decision or I can authorize the additional $700 and they can start again tomorrow, only one day behind. NO.

Let's start with the fact that I don't have $700 just lying around to pay. Then let's move to the fact that when it rained that torrential rain last week, the ceiling in the pink bedroom fell in--that's right I waiting one week too long to replace the roof. I had already contracted to pay $800 to fix the ceiling and repaint that room--so yes, I do know how to spend money I don't have, but I am already at my maximum capacity this week (month, year...). And then let's go right to the crazy. $700? Is this a scam. In the two years since the first estimate (same company), the price has gone up almost $2,000. I went to cut throat company and their estimate was the same, so I thought that was a sign that the contractor I hired gave me a good price. Is this how he is able to do that--by piling on the extras???

I told Chuck to go back and fight with the City. So he went back to fight with the City. Their supervisor will have to review it--he's not in until tomorrow. So the next day (I'm told) that Chuck speaks with the supervisor who needs to review the matter, but he doesn't give us an answer until the afternoon. It's a split the baby decision--Chuck will have to put plywood in some low places, but he's fine with sheathing for the rest. Chuck does not ask me for more money (yet) so it's ok by me. Remember, my roof is off my house already--not a lot of options for me. So we get the decision late Tuesday, but we still have to wait until Wednesday for the inspection that we didn't pass on Monday. We're not at the top of their list being such a problem and we are at the end of the inspector's day on Wednesday. Yeah, this job is going into next week.

So all week, even when we were waiting for the inspection there were a couple of guys on the roof, occasionally hammering and such--who knows what. Chuck said, that Friday was going to be a very busy and loud day--he'd be making real progress on Friday. Adrienne said, she didn't hear much. Monday, bright and early I got a call to give me the finish schedule: Noon to three, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, then the final inspection and they will be done by the following Monday.

They haven't said anything about extra costs and the City already hates my house, but hopefully I will soon have a new roof with a week to spare on my deadline for the bank.

The roof, the roof, the roof...hopefully I don't even have to think about it for 20 years. I'm going to be in my Seventies in 20 years. I can't see myself really caring much then. Therefore (logically speaking), I never have to worry about the roof ever again after this week. This could have been done by now, if I'd just paid the stupid $700 bucks. Oye.

Pride Goeth

2011-10-13T13:33:00.000-07:00

So when I was in law school, I took an elective class in tax law. That was by far the most difficult class I had taken in my entire education career. I know I didn't fail in the class, but I'll bet that I dropped it and have blocked out the memory. All I remember is a very thick book with very tiny writing and being completely lost during the lecture.

And yet, I absolutely refuse to pay to have someone else do my taxes for me. I am so stuborn about this even though my taxes have become more and more complicated over the years and for the past three years, I've received corrections from the IRS, because I've done them wrong.

To be fair to my stuborn self, I do have a tax attorney in my firm who answers my questions and I am a college graduate. I am bound and determined to squeeze every last possible benefit out of all the work and money I put into becoming a college graduate. And it should be logical. It is sort of logical. All the forms are on the internet along with publications and I know how to read publications and make sense out of them. Sort of. Mostly.

But three years of mistakes--that's like strike three. And now I have rental income. There are professionals for this stuff for a reason. When I see trusts and wills that people do on line, I want to cry about how much they don't know, they don't know. So this year I was going to draw the line in the sand and make myself go see my friend who is a CPA who does mostly tax work. I trust him completely and however much money I spend on his services, I am happy to pay him.

So I'll just put together some notes before I call him. I started with the IRS web cite to find out what expense receipts I should be saving. Oh look, I can deduct depreciation. How do I figure that out. Five hours and three publications later, I feel quite confident that I can do my own taxes again this year.

Uh oh.

Technical Difficulties

2011-09-27T12:45:00.000-07:00

When I actually moved into my new place, the first order of business was to get a television and the Internet. My dental incapacity provided the uninterrupted several hours that it took on the phone and on-line to set up the appointment for service and with some coordination, I managed to be there when the very sweet fellow from direct tv arrived bright and early on a Saturday morning.

The night before, I had cleared all of the bags and boxes out of the living room (filling the small bedroom to the ceiling and door so that there is no way in). The tv was all set up with the DVD player in both the living room and bedroom. There was nothing to prevent the direct tv fellow from achieving his goal of delivering the total television experience that I live for.

[As an aside, earlier this year I attempted to live without cable television. My discretionary dollar does not streatch as far as I would like it to. I went out and purchased the box that you need for digital (more than the $40 that they promised in the ads) and then because I was clueless, I purchased rabbit ear antenna. I tried to set them up on my tv at the Glendale house and nothing happened. No reception. Then I tried to set them up at the new place--again, nothing, no reception. Luckily direct tv is really cheap for the first year and I signed up for a two year contract. Two years to learn how to use an antenna--that should work, but I digress.]

The direct tv guy was working outside--under the house, up on the ladder, drilling a hole for the cord, plugging things in. He was very diligent and very pleasant. Then the att guy showed up to install the wireless Internet. He was arrogant and mean. The first thing he said was "I am not going under your house--you better have a phone line." I don't have a phone line and I don't know where they are. I'll bet they are in the little bedroom that the previous owner used as an office. That room is filled with boxes and there's no getting in there. Just as I am planning how to clear a path around the walls in that room to find the phone line, the att guy says--oh, I'll just use the hole that the direct tv guy drilled. Direct tv guy has been here about 30 to 40 minutes working like a dog and the att guy goes out and basically pushes him out of the way--inserts his line and comes back in to test it.

Where's your router, says att guy. I hand him the router that we had extra from att at the Glendale house. No, he says, where's the cord. You have the cord from the wall I say. No, he almost shouts in complete disgust with "you idiot" written all over his face. You need a power cord. I look all around, but I can't find a power cord. I vaguely remember one in the hallway at the Glendale house before I moved. The hallway is completely empty now and it got packed by me shoving things into boxes. This is not going to be pretty.
I start looking in the boxes closest to the door in the little room.

Att guy yells for me to stop that and to witness that the line works on his computer so that I can sign his form. I witness the bars and I sign the form that he's shoved in my face. As soon as I sign, he packs up and he is gone. If he was there a total of 10 minutes I'd be surprised. The direct tv guy and I share a look of disbelief. What a jerk, I say. The direct tv guy nods, but keeps working.

The tv guy finishes--sets up the remotes--lets the channels warm up and quickly gives me a lesson in direct tv tools, bells and whistles. Ooooh, Aaaah, I say at the appropriate times. Dtv guy goes through his script of the things that I will be asked in a survey about him and he desperately asks me to give him all top points. You've got it I say appreciatively. He is in a rush, but I make him stop so I can give him a tip (for being so thorough and nice). He looks at the five and says (not sarcastically, but later I think, huh?) "oh good, now I can buy a soft drink."

There are ten gazzillian channels, but I set up my favorites on the living room tv right away. It took a few weeks to get to it in the bedroom which was a pain AND I'm too blind to be able to see the guide on the bedroom tv that is too far away, but I have it down to a science now. I'm getting very spoiled with free hbo and movie channels, but that's too much and when my free months are gone, I'm done with that.

So I called att to "register" my Internet. They were going to tell me my password and such. I told them that I hadn't found the cord for the router yet, but I'd call them back when I had it. It had taken about 30 minutes to get them on the phone, but they said--can't help you, call us back.

So I looked through all the top boxes. Nothing. I moved the front row of boxes and looked in those. Nothing. I looked around the Glendale house. Nothing. I need Internet, so I went to Frys to buy a new router.

Now let me stop right here to tell you that I do not have clue what a router is or does or how it works or why I need one. I know what the router I have looks like and that it is called a router. With that minuscule information I went into the gigantuan warehouse cave that is Frys. I really thought that I would find a wall of cords and one would say twowire router cords. There was no such obvious wall. I actually found routers without asking anyone. The wall of products was well lit and had quite a few customers mulling over their choices. This stopped me in my tracts. There is more than one brand and there are numerous types of routers. Luckily there was a little chart on the back of the product that was on sale that had a huge mountain of boxes. That chart told you that if you needed a router for just a room, there was a little one. If you needed it for a house, there was a medium one. If you needed it for a really big house, there was a big one.

Now I have a little place--22 by 50. But I want the big one. I want the strongest, most powerful Internet connection that money can buy. So I pick up the big one. Then I start to think logically again and I find a person to ask about the power cord for the router that I already have. No they don't sell them. So I ask about the biggest and bestest router I've picked up and he says, no, you should get the modem and router separately to get the best service. And, he says, it will cost you less that the one I've picked up, even though it is better. Such a deal--am I a lucky duck or what, I'm thinking to myself. And I happily proceed to check out and buy my two very lovely boxes of electronic equipment.

As I am standing in the checkout line, I have a weird little de ja vous. The antenna and digital box that I was going to use to get rid of cable tv came from Frys in two little neat boxes and they have never worked. But no, I thought--I'm buying a router. You just plug the router into the phone cord thing that the att guy left coming out of the wall--ether something or other. And then all the lights come on and I have bars and I have Internet. It will be fine.

I got home pretty late, so I put off taking the equipment out of the boxes for a few days. A few nights later, I was missing Internet and I opened the boxes. Both pieces of equipment came with a cd to load onto your computer. I don't have a computer--I have an ipad. There's no place to put a cd on an ipad. No worries I think--I'll bring home my laptop. That has a place to load a cd.

I forget to bring my laptop for a few days. And then I read the instructions again and there is a way to plug everything in with no computer. Yea! I call att. The lady that I get after waiting on hold for a long time is clearly not happy with me that I don't have att's router. [Why didn't they just bring one or tell me what to buy--it would have been much simpler, uggh.] She gives me temporary passwords and suggests that I should use the computer to get it to work. Fine, fine, I'll call back when I remember my laptop.

So I remember my laptop, but then I get busy and I don't have time to deal with it. Over the next week a very jolly guy from att calls me about twice a day to see if I am ready to install my Internet. No, I have to keep telling him--I'm not home when you call me and I don't have time to deal with it. Don't call me, I'll call you. (Famous last words). Now set up Internet is at the top of all my lists of things to do. I start to realize that I am procrastinating in a big way. It gets worse and worse. I almost have to pay for more time on my 3g network, because I am using that at home because I don't have the Internet on my ipad at home.

Finally (after I've already paid for my first month of Internet service that is not installed yet) on Sunday night (40 minutes before Amazing Race starts--this procrastination stuff is an illness), I unpack the laptop, pull out the discs, plug in the modem and router just like it shows on the picture and I wait for my magic bars. Nothing. Hmmmm. I unplug everything, reboot the computer and try again. Nothing. So I call att. I wait on hold for just five minutes--pretty easy. The lady that comes on is again not happy that I don't have att equipment, but she's going to try to configure it for me. She wants me to plug in just the modem to the laptop. The screen takes a long time to get to an action screen and then it says loading. Underneath the symbol for loading, it says that it can take up to 30 minutes. If you've been doing the math, you know I'm not waiting 30 minutes, because Race is starting soon. So I say thank you very much and hang up on att lady. I let the computer do it's thing and I leave the room

After Race, I go back and the screen hasn't changed. I disconnect, unplug everything and put it all in the box with the digital converter and the antenna. I'm calling the geek squad.

P.S. I called them and they are coming next Saturday. It is very expensive. Too bad that college education is not paying off. I keep thinking about a line from Baby Boom "I just want to turn on the faucet and have water come out--I don't want to know where it comes from." Sigh.

The Contest

2011-09-27T11:31:00.000-07:00

So Saturday was the Tall Tale Speech Contest for Toastmasters. I don't think that I had ever been to the tall tale speech contest outside our club. People brought props. Really. A box of stuff to enhance the story. In my area (the clubs are divided into areas and then districts--we had a couple areas competing the same day), only one other club sent a contestant, so there were only two of us competing for first and second place. In the other area, there were three people competing.

Now don't get me wrong, I love a good story and I felt that my story, while not earthshattering or anything like that, was a darn good story. Only one of the speakers (from the other area) had a darn good story too. She didn't win. The winner in the other area was a guy who's story was completely true (a little boring), with some very well rehearsed jokes sprinkled in. You could tell that he's been telling that speech for some time. Oh well.

I came in second. The other lady in our area had props. Lots of props. She had some enthousiasm, a little surprise (although she kind of ruined the surprise with the title) and well, her story was true too. Nothing too tall about it. Someone came up to me after my speech and asked me if my story was true--yeah, my nephew met Bob Dylan in a two room shack with Poncho. No, I told her, "it's a tall tale..." I don't think anyone gets this category.

So I am a bitter loser. When I was a kid, if I didn't win, I didn't want to play anymore. I've either been rewarded for such behavior or it is in the genes, because I haven't changed a bit.

The contest event itself was very dangerous. You know how you see a natural disaster and your first instinct is to go and help pull out the survivors? It was like that. A complete train wreck. It took all of my strength of will not to voluteer to help them. I spent most of my time outlining how I would do everything differently and then playing tug of war with myself not to open my big mouth and volunteer.

There were a few bright spots--I heard a few excellent speakers. The other person from my club, Dennis was in the table topics contest and his response was really good. Then the other person from our area gave an equally terrific response. I told him I didn't like his chances and it was too bad he was not in the other area which had not as good responses. They announced that he won second place and that seemed like the right outcome--lucky us, we don't have to go to the next level. Afterwards, he sent me an e-mail, in fact he won and they announced it wrong (train wreck!!). So now we get to go to the next level. (The second place winner is the back up in case the lady with all the props bails on the next level of the contest AND to support Dennis, who now goes to the next level--he's really good, so I like his chances.)

Vive le contest!

Renting the Rooms

2011-09-06T11:32:00.000-07:00

So in the ongoing saga of my house situation, financially, I needed to rent out the rooms in my house by September 1st. Mission accomplished, as they say. I have a renter and she's paid as of September 1st. And she doesn't have a dog, which is great. She does have fancy rats, which is kind of creepy, but they live in cages and shouldn't be able to do anything to the house, so I don't care.

As you may recall, I had to get the rooms painted to be able to take the pictures to list the rooms for rent. These are the lovely (sarcastic font) pictures that I posted:

If I had know how awful I would be at taking pictures, I could have rented out the rooms a lot sooner.

Anyway, once I had my pathetic pictures, I went on ebay's site, renters.com to list the rooms. Except that they don't have a dedicated place for rooms for rent and somehow for my $49 per month, I was stuck in one bedroom search result. I had many calls and e-mails for the one bedroom apartment from people not at all interested in renting a suite of rooms in my house. Also, ebay said that if I didn't have 14 actual leads from the ad, then I would get another month free. Some of the e-mails came from very odd names and after the generic "please send me more information" I never heard from them again. Scam? Innocent computer browsers? Inquiring minds don't care enough to pursue the line of
inquiry. But I digress.

Since it was free, I also placed an on-line ad in the penny saver, but again, somehow it was viewed as a one bedroom apartment, and somehow, the penny saver gave out my address too. I know that I did not put it in the ad, but I
received a few calls of people stating the address, asking me about my one bedroom apartment for rent. When I asked, they saw the ad in the penny saver.

Then, also free, I put a posting on Craig's List under rooms for rent. That one was pay dirt. The four actual showings that I gave came from Craig's List. The first showing seemed really promising. Her name was Francis and she owned her own consulting business. She was relocating from Florida and needed six
months to check out the real estate market. She recently rescued a small dog (who looked so adorable in the picture). Well you can guess the rest. Fran is a guy and the business is defunct. He came to see the place, but he said he wasn't willing to pay what I was asking. He could do better. His dog probably would bark too much anyway.

The next person who called to set up a time to see the place was named Saphire. She sounded very young. It would be for her and her boyfriend Brice would stay there sometimes. I was not hopeful. When she showed up, she brought her dog--a six hundred pound rotweiller. I met her at the door and apologized profusely--no, no, no rotweillers. At least she brought the dog up front.

Next came the lady that is now my renter. Am I the luckiest person on the planet or what. She's employed, my age and has good credit. She's renting rooms now, but the owner of that place is losing their house in foreclosure, so she has to move. She's looking for a little stability. No worries--I'm very stable.

The last person (the insurance in case #3 changed her mind) was a young guy. He had just enrolled in makeup artist school. He has a job at Forever 21 and he took out a large student loan to cover tuition and his living expenses. He told me the numbers and I told him that he couldn't afford my house--he needs to look for roommates and I wished him all the best.

My renter says that while she likes the flooring, she'd prefer carpeting (sigh) and she definitely needs air conditioning in both rooms, so I am having a second air conditioner installed in the bedroom. And so my life as an actual paying tenant's landlord begins. [Full circle as my Uncle Marcel pointed out--my Grandfather was a landlord for years.]

TMI (Too Much Information)

2011-08-26T12:34:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary: (happy, Leon?) So Tuesday at lunch I made myself a lovely tomato and bacon sandwich. After several bites, I experienced a slight discomfort in one of my back teeth. It was a tooth with a crown. In the past, I've been very careful to floss that tooth, because stuff can get caught under the edges. Bacon and tomato skin are just such culprits, so I put "floss" on my to do list and finished my lunch chewing on the other side.

The thing is, I don't have floss at my desk, so I was most likely going to have to wait until I went home. As the afternoon went on however, that tooth hurt a lot more. And I had Toastmasters that evening, so "go home" was going to be awfully late. At 3:30 in the afternoon, it hurt a lot, so I called my dentist for an emergency visit. My dentist doesn't work on Tuesday--they could see me on Wednesday at 1:00. Oye. I took two tylenols and got used to the discomfort.

[On Tuesday night we had the Tall Tale Speech contest--I won, Yea! I changed "smiled, flashed a peace sign and got into the car" to "Before he left, Bob Dylan looked back and said "I smiled because I'm happy" and then he was gone". I think it was improved by Uncle Marcel's input--oh and I titled it "No Kangaroo" which I thought was a pretty funny inside joke, but I digress.]

All Tuesday night I was in a lot of pain, but I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon and I had to go to court on Wednesday morning, so I toughed it out. Court was a joke and the less said (or remembered) the better. So I got to the dentist and they were all "How are you?" I misinterpreted and told them I was horrible--my tooth hurts. A few seconds later, Sandy asked exactly the same question again to give me an opportunity to say the politically correct response of "fine, how are you?" Oye.

Howard ( a friend from Kiwanis is my dentist) poked and tapped and then brought out ice for the "cold" test. I looked at the ice and I said, "What's the test--see how high I can jump if it hurts??" Howard laughed (the way dentists do). "Well," he says, "I have to see the extent of the symptoms to make a diagnosis." The rat. Anyway, he said some big long word that I must have and he gave me a referal to a dentist who does root canals. Now I have had a root canal before and it was not as bad as it sounded. It is kind of like, a bunch of people pan a movie and then you have zero expectations and it turns out to be not half bad (The Hangover). So I wasn't immediately concerned about the prospect of a root canal. But the other thing was, my tooth hurt a lot now that Howard had banged on it with heavy metal objects. Howard gave me a prescription for vicadine (that sounded scary) and sent me right over for an emergency consult with the specialist dentist.

The specialist dentist is an older gentleman. He too said he wanted to do the "cold" test. Since the ice Howard tried out on my teeth didn't hurt, I though, go for it. So the teeth around the bad tooth (under a crown) hurt a lot from Dr. Specialist's cold test, but the bad tooth, not at all. Proof said Dr. Specialist that the nerve in bad tooth is dead and decaying and probably infected (nothing to do with the crown?, my suspicious brain thought). He prescribed anitbiotics and motrine (a much less scary sounding pain medication). He said I needed a root canal--he could fit me in tomorrow at 1:30. I fought for my bacon or tomato skin caught under the crown theory, but since flossing had not resulted in alieviation of pain, I was temporarily willing to leave the diagnosis to the guys with the degrees.

The nurse charged me $175 for the emergency visit and told me that the root canal would be $1,050. I gave her my credit card and then thought (and stupidly said out loud), I'll just bring a check tomorrow for the thousand, fifty (I could see dollar signs in the nurse's eyes--very spooky). That is the price for the white coating for my roof. Two different contractors told me not to waste my money on the white coating which is supposed to save energy--except I don't have air conditioning and I already have insulation, so I can probably live without it. Excrutiating tooth pain--just a tiny bit more important at this precise moment.

I went right out and filled the precriptions for antibiotics (take every 8 hours--I was going to need to scramble to time that so as not to require getting up in the middle of the night) and motrine (sounded less scary). At 3 p.m. I took the antibiotic and motrine and by 4, I was fine.

Now here's the thing: when you are not in pain, spending over a thousand dollars to get a root canal seems counter intuitive. I was gabbing with someone in the office and she said, that her husband had the same thing and he was fine just taking the antibiotics--he never did have to go in for the root canal. Hmmmm. I called Howard. Do I really need a root canal? Howard talked to me for about fifteen minutes and promised to call Dr. Specialist to discuss it. After a while, Howard called me back and said--you could wait, but eventually, you will need a root canal. So I called Dr. Specialist's office to delay my appointment. Basically I was told that they could see me today (and yes, I really, really, really--in their not so humble opinion--need a root canal) or they could see me in October. Just because the motrine was working, doesn't mean I couldn't remember the tooth ache. I went in for the root canal and I wrote the check.

Dr. Specialist knocked the tooth first thing, throwing me into agonizing pain. I think he felt bad making me cry like that, so he gave me two shots of novacaine. He wanted to make sure I wouldn't feel anything. HA. Then he positioned me so that my head was lower than my body--I was tilted almost upside down. My numb tongue was against the back of my throat so that I felt like I was gagging. I kept struggling to get up and he kept adjusting me back down. He told me to breath through my nose. That was the most excrutiating hour of my life. Finally I threw up--everywhere. The nurse was completely unprepared and she couldn't get the paper towel off the dispenser. Meanwhile, I just kept throwing up.

Dr. Specialist told me to think about something pleasant--that it would only be another five minutes. I couldn't think of anything pleasant so I counted to 60 five times. He lied. Finally, he was done and I got hussled out really quickly to pay. Oh, and I need to go back for another check up with Dr. Specialist ($175) and then I have to go to my regular dentist and get a new crown ($700 plus who knows how much for the two to three visits that will take--oh well, I like Howard, so that's a plus--Dr. Specialist--not my favorite person).

So Dr. Specialist told me to take the pain medication in about an hour and then every six hours (even though the bottle said every eight hours)--"No, you are going to need more today." Ominous words. I was still a little tramatized and I thought --this is what sick days are for and I went home. Half my face, tongue and mouth were still numb. In an hour, I went to take the pain medication and didn't need it. I was still numb. It was kind of difficult to drink or eat, but I just got on the phone to order my cable for the new place (one hour on hold and over thirty minutes to set it up--that was fun). Productive use of my time.

At five, I figured I better eat dinner, because I had skipped lunch, but my mouth was still numb. Completely. More than one half of my tongue was numb including the tip--that was weird. I figured that I would just eat on one side. I had done it the past few days, so I was sure it would be fine. It was surprisingly difficult, but by 6:30, I had managed to eat my meal. Except that I was still numb. Six hours is too long I thought. So I went on the internet. When you google novacaine and numb face, you get menogitis--that was fun reading. So I called the dentist and pressed the number for emergency and sat back to wait for a call from the doctor to report that he gave me menogitis (bacteria that can travel through an injection into the blood stream and attack the nervous system sometimes resulting in numbness in the face--at least that's what I read). The dentist never called back. [My iphone has call waiting, so I also placed a call into the cable company since the e-mail of my order did not match what I was told, but after waiting an hour on hold I figured that since I had menogitis and was going to die, the extra $11 per month that I didn't agree to was probably no big deal and I hung up.]

At 10 p.m. my face started to itch--that was annoying and lasted about an hour. By 11, I was not numb anymore. At 7:45 a.m. the next morning, Dr. Specialist's office returned my call. What was my emergency? I dully said, I'm fine--it just took 10 hours for the novacaine to wear off. That's normal, the girl says. I was going to argue with her, since Dr. Specialist had gone to a lot of trouble to tell me to double up on the pain medication (not needed while I was numb for 10 hours), but I couldn't work up the enthusiasm. I'm fine.
Poorer, but fine.

Painting the Walls

2011-08-22T11:28:00.000-07:00

No, I did not paint. The last time I tried to paint, it took me months and I have to get the rooms rented really soon, so I do not have months. But I was tempted to paint myself when I was quoted $2,200 to paint the rooms. How silly was I? When I finally wrapped my mind around that price, I called the painter (now several weeks later) and the price was more than double, but he was going to add the ceilings (that were awful) and the floors (that I was going to carpet anyway) and it would all be done in a matter of days, so that I could get the rental listing up sooner with pictures.

The painter is quite a guy--he's a talker--he wants me to know that he loses money on every job. He works seven days a week, fourteen hours a day for the past 30 years that he's been in this country. He spoke Armenian and Spanish (and English) and had workers that only spoke Armenian or only spoke Spanish. Adrienne got to hear some of them fighting and said it was pretty heated until Joe came and spoke with both groups in their language. They worked mostly evenings and weekends, which made me realize that Joe probably does work every day--he was always tired when I saw him, but he was very meticulous about details that he saw. I noticed a lot of little details after he left, but I figure he was too tired to notice them when he was there.

One thing that he did (that I didn't ask for, but it is so pretty) was that he put a really nice molding all around the rooms that I am renting out. The floors are that laminate (but the heavy wood kind--not the flimsey tile kind). The floors are gorgeous. It really is too bad that the house should be torn down (according to every general contractor I bring in).

I noticed that one of the covers for a light switch was missing and I pointed it out to one of the workers. I had replaced all the covers brand new when I painted a few years back, so I didn't want to lose any of them. They guy (in broken English) said they were all new. I looked and sure enough all the little screws were white from the store. I remember the ones that I bought had silver screws (because I was mad at the time that they were not white too). I have no idea what he did with the old (sort of new) covers.

Another time, I pointed out an electrical outlet that the painters had just painted over. I said that they had to fix that. They guy looked at me a bit blankly--I think it was a language barrier, but later when I looked, there was a brand new cover and the plug area was clean and bright--no paint. I know I saw paint all over it, so I'm not sure how they were able to get it looking so new. However, for what I paid, they could rewire the whole house, but I digress.

The painter is in love with two colors: Pearl White and Swiss Coffee. I can't really tell--it all looks pretty white to me. The night before they were going to do the kitchen, I began to be worried--did I really want white again. I tried to find a nice pale yellow that would look nicer, but I wasn't sure. Then I started to worry that if I changed the color, they'd go away and say that they were waiting for the "special" order to come in. Kiss of death if you are in a hurry--"special" order. So I have white walls. It is clean and if I were a renter, I would want to rent it. Score.

The place smells like paint and it is pretty serile looking (all that white), but I'm sure that we'll get used to it and settle back into the space. Now if I can just find a renter. Fingers crossed.

Packing the Boxes (Misnomer Alert)

2011-08-15T19:16:00.000-07:00

So it's a very long story how I came to be in this position, but I have two houses. One is far too big and costs way too much money (but no one wants to buy it). The other is fine for just me, but its not free and it is far away from work. The solution is to move into the small house (mobile home)--and commute by train and rent out my rooms in the large house (while retaining one bedroom for me or Adam if he ever moves back, one bedroom for my sister and a third bedroom--the smallest for a guest room, I mean the junk room--let's be honest). So I must move.

Someone was complimenting me recently, telling me how they admire how organized I am--they like that I make lists and have so many different things under control. At the time they made this observation, I was in the middle of packing my rooms for my big move. I did not feel organized. Oh, I was making lists--I have about 20 lists ranging from what furniture goes in what room, to what repairs need to be done where, to budgets, to more budgets, to contingent budgets, etc. My lists do not feel very productive, since the budgets never balance and I'm always forgetting something really important, but I digress.

So I was feeling really unorganized and not able to motivate myself into organization, when I hit the wall. I have to get the rooms at my house rented by September 1st, but I can't rent them until I get them painted and fixed and pictures up on the internet to advertise. And I couldn't do all of that until I got all my stuff out. So I hired the mover and figured, it will all have to get done. The mover (my handiman and his son) couldn't come on the weekend, so they came on a Friday (one less day to pack--no worries--it has to get done, it will get done.) So Thursday night, I still had not packed much from my room. I started just putting together boxes and shoving stuff in. Box after box. When you don't care about organization, it is not that difficult to fill a box and somethings were ackward sizes, so some boxes had less stuff than others. I had plenty of boxes. On Friday morning, I still hadn't touched the closets and one side of the room, but the large furniture was empty, so I figured the movers would have plenty to get started while I finished packing (I mean throwing things in boxes).

I had to go to the office for a minute (read the hour it turned into) and when I got back, the movers had taken the unpacked side of my room and thrown it in the truck. They put stuff in bags and big stacks of books just traveled unpacked. Hey it got done. They left the closet (I think I scared them by yelling when they were moving something without wrapping it and I told them to leave the closet). So except for the closet, my rooms were empty (sort of--there was still lots of stuff, but I kept saying--no, don't move that, I'll take that in the car--a lot of stuff was left to go by car--four car trips later, I'm almost done).

Now the night before the movers came, I had gone to IKEA. I found a beautiful kitchen island that I want for the new place. I could not lift the box. At all. No Adam. What to do. So when the movers (my handiman and his son, Ozzy) had the truck all packed and it was time to drive to the new place, I asked Ozzy to come in my car so we could stop at IKEA. Ozzy is a big straping youth, probably stronger than Adam, but he could barely handle the Kitchen Island. Those were some very heavy boxes. (Now I have to figure out how to assemble something I can't lift--I'll worry about that tomorrow--its on the list).

When we got to the new place, the plumber was still there and had everything ripped up because the plumbing needed to be replaced. The cleaning lady left a few days before, in the middle of getting the place ready for me because the plumber was just getting everything dirty. The dryer was in the middle of the kitchen and the fridge had been unplugged (melted ice--lions, and tigers and bears, oh my). So to say that the new place was a mess before I got there is a fair statement. (It was two weeks before the dryer went back to its place and the cleaning lady finished the floors).

I had made a list to tell the movers what room to put the furniture in and I had this really cute packing tape that had the name of the room it went to on it (of course, I only used bedroom, since I was moving my bedroom and sitting room only, but I digress). The movers still asked me for every bag, box and piece of furniture, what room? Dad was hanging around and I was so tired that I just said second bedroom for everything and Dad said--do you want me to make a sign that says "second bedroom"? Meanwhile when I wasn't looking almost all of the boxes and bags of books went into the living room. Even the boxes that said bedroom. Oh well.

Years ago, I helped (I use that word very loosely, because I had hardly nothing to do) Erika move. The boxes were all perfectly organized and we were finished unpacking in the afternoon of her moving day. Completely finished. The only left to do was to recycle the boxes and we brought them to the recycle place right before they closed at 4 p.m.. That move was a thing of beauty. When Adrienne and I moved to the condo, we were pretty darn organized. We had the excess boxes out of the garage in a matter of days. When we moved to the house we are in now, I don't think that we even put any boxes in the garage. Nothing close to an Erika move, but we were fairly organized. I'm getting old. This move, not organized. Actually really, really bad. If Erika is the gold standard A++ and my previous moves with Adrienne are good solid B's and C's, this one gets a failing F right down the road.

Last night was the first night I spent at the new place. I have no cable, no tv, so I was going to set up music. The cords were in cute little white boxes. I remember seeing those cute little white boxes in the sitting room and I remember putting them in a bag, because they would fit. I looked through a lot of bags--no cute little white boxes. Then I thought, maybe I put them in a box with miscellaneous stuff. I looked through every box--no cute little white boxes. Man, I have a lot of boxes of junk. I turned on my iphone ipod without the headset. I could hear the music just fine. But now I was too tired to do any unpacking.

The move was more than two weeks ago--I've unpacked three bags and some clothes that I needed to wear. It is a good thing that I don't have a tv anymore, because I'm afraid that I'll see myself on the show Hoarders--making a path from the kitchen to my chair and another to the front door. Lions and tigers and bears.

Tall Tale

2011-08-12T13:46:00.000-07:00

We are having a tall tale contest at toastmasters. I got up in the middle of the night and turned on the microphone in my iphone and taped a tall tale. The cool part is that the app actually times the speech, the bad part is that the speech is supposed to be 3 to 5 minutes and of course it was 10 minutes. I'll have to time this written version--I left out some parts, like how Bob Dylans car broke down and the million questions that Adam had for him that raced through his mind, while he listened to Poncho disparage the Chilaen government. Oh well,

Enjoy:

So my nephew, Adam moved to Australia last January. About a month after he moved there, he found out about a Bob Dylan concert at a festival that was out in the middle of nowhere, but he could take the train there. He couldn't pass up a chance to see Bob Dylan, so he went by himself on the train and walked the mile or so to the festival grounds. It was a hot day (our winter is their summer) and Adam had on shorts and tee shirt. He had a great time at the festival, but he wanted to be in front for the main event--the Bob Dylan concert, so he camped out at the stage that Dylan would be playing at. Near the time for the beginning of the concert it started to rain--hard. It poured, but they put up very large tents near the stage and Adam was near the front, under the tents.

The concert was fantastic, but the thing about it was that Bob Dylan smiled the whole time. Now if you know anything about Bob Dylan you know that this is rather unusual--Bob Dylan is known for mumbling. He always looks kind of morose, kind of sad, kind of out of it. So for him to smile and look like he was really enjoying himself was so excellant. Adam loved it.

After the concert, Adam stayed til the very end and by the time he walked back to the train station, he had missed the last train. He looked around for an all night diner or even a hotel, but there was nothing. It was pretty desolate. There was an awning at the dinky train station, so Adam sat down to wait for the first train the next day at 6:00 a.m. By now, it was almost 2 a.m. and pretty cold. Adam had an extra tee shirt, so he drapped it over his knees to try to get warm.

Adam wasn't there long, when a car drove up. The guy rolled down his window and asked Adam "Are you ok?" Adam said, "I'm fine, I'm just waiting for the next train at 6:00 a.m." The guy said "You don't look fine--it is cold and raining, I think you better come with me to my house to wait." Adam said, "No, I'm fine--I'll be just fine here." The guy got out of his car and said, "My name is Poncho. I really think that you better come with me. I picked up this other guy who was stranded on the road. I have an alarm clock--you can sleep on my couch and I'll get you guys up in time and bring you back to the train station."

Now Poncho was not even five feet tall and a little older. Adam is almost six feet tall, so Adam was more than a head taller than Poncho. Well Adam is a little leary about getting into the car with this guy, but he figures he can take him if he has to and he is cold, so he gets in the back seat that Poncho is holding open. When Adam gets in the car, he sees the other guy that Poncho picked up sitting in the front seat. The guy seems kind of small and older and he's kind of hiding his head, but Adam sees that it is Bob Dylan. "Bob Dylan!" Adam says really surprised. Poncho is getting back into the car and he says "Oh, good you guys know each other." Adam realizes two things right away: Poncho doesn't know who Bob Dylan is and Bob Dylan doesn't seem to want to be recognized. Well Adam doesn't want to bother Bob Dylan and he's pretty happy to be in a warm car, so he keeps him mouth shut.

Poncho on the other hand, clearly loves having an audience and starts to tell them all about himself. He's from Chile--he's been in Australia for many years because the government of Chile is corrupt and a bunch of crooks. He goes on and on and looks to Adam and Bob Dylan to agree with him. They get to Poncho's house, which is a small step up from a one room shack--there's two rooms. Poncho asks them if they would like something to eat and Bob Dylan asks for a phone. Poncho says, "no, I only have one for emergencies and it's not hooked up." Poncho is still talking and talking about how much he hates the government of Chile, and he starts to make tomatoe soup. Adam figures that he's pretty hungry, so he's happy to say yes to the offered tomatoe soup and they all sit down. Adam is sitting there trying to work up his courage to talk to Bob Dylan. Finally Adam says "Mr. Dylan, I don't want to bother you, but I'm really curious, why were you smiling through your whole concert tonight?" At that Poncho suddenly says "Bob Dylan, the Bob Dylan, you are Bob Dylan--oh my goodness, I had no idea--you are the famous Bob Dylan?" Bob Dylan kind of mumbled, "Yes." "Why didn't you say so," says Poncho. "You want a phone--I'll get my emergency phone." With that Poncho goes to a closet and on the top shelf he pulls down a very old rotary phone. He takes it out on the front porch and from the corner, he pulls down a cord and plugs in the phone. Bob Dylan makes a call and minutes later a big black car pulls up in front and Bob Dylan leaves. As he leaves, Poncho and Adam are standing on the porch and Bob Dylan looks back, smiles at them and makes a peace sign and then he's gone. Poncho and Adam look at each other and say "wow". Then Poncho says, "Well, I'm really tired. I'll set the alarm clock and take you to the train at 5:30, ok?" "Thanks man," says Adam, and Poncho goes in to bed. Adam stands on the porch looking out at the vast night, in the middle of nowhere and says to himself "I'm in Australia. I just ate tomatoe soup with Poncho and Bob Dylan. The world is upside down. It's awesome!"

Hot and Cold

2011-08-03T10:24:00.000-07:00

So the bank wised up and said they wouldn't lend me more money unless I proved that the work was going to be done in the next three months. I have to turn in signed contracts to have the roof and the heater issue resolved. That makes sense. I agree that is a reasonable and intelligent request. Except that I'm not signing the contract for the estimate that I have for the heating and cooling--it is way too high. What to do?

So I called another contractor (number six if anyone is counting) to review the issue. The very experienced guy walks into the house and says, why are you considering ductless heat and air--why not simply put in central heat and air. I'd love to, I say, except that I've been told that I can't. Oh, yes you can, he says with complete authority. [Been here before--all six before him have told me the same thing coming in the front door and all six have eventually determined--can't be done. But I'm humoring him--he's the expert, not me.]

Jack walks around the front room looking at all the walls, then we go through the kitchen and he sees the back part of the house going on and on and on, until we are at the back. He's getting pretty quiet. Next we go outside and he starts frowning big time. You are too close to your neighbor on this side, he says. A little while later (on the other side) he says, you share a driveway with your neighbor--that's not good. We walk around on the inside some more and I show him the three places I've been told a ductless unit can be put. He points out why it will not work in one of the spots. Next we go back to the front room--the main event--the bank wants a heater in the front room at a minimum. Jack starts to postulate maybe we can put the unit on one side of the room (to get the most heating and cooling for the largest area) and then run the pipes through the crawl space above the house. He's shaking his head and pretty soon he says, you are between a rock and a hard place here.

He's going to give me an estimate to put the bare minimum heater in the front room. He did say that I'm going to make him think all day to try to come up with a solution, but he doesn't think that there is one. Another one bites the dust.

Debt Ceiling

2011-07-27T09:39:00.000-07:00

So I am attempting to raise my debt ceiling. I have excellent credit--I'm a very responsible person. I have lots of equity in my house even though no one wants to buy it for what I consider to be a fair market price. The house could fall down and the land would still be worth more than I want to borrow on it.

First the bank said that my income was not enough. That didn't make any sense, because the monthly payment would actually be less (refinancing to a much lower rate and restarting that 30 year clock). They said that they figure out the very highest payment that I would have to pay after the rate is adjustable and assuming that I have to pay penalties, etc. Ok, how much am I too low? Before they can answer that question, they change their mind. Hmmm.

Next they said that there was a problem with the appraisal. I thought, ok, my house didn't sell, the appraisal is really low, but no, the appraisal shows that my loan to value ratio is 35-65. It only needs to be 20-80 and they advertise that they will loan as much as 10-90. So I'm confused. What's wrong with the appraisal. The house needs a new roof and a heater in the living room, they say. I know, I say--that's why I need a loan. Well those things have to be fixed. Well I can't fix them until you loan me money. Hmmm.

The next day, the bank calls and says, good news, just give us estimates for the work and we'll give you the loan. Estimates, I say, what's to stop me from just keeping the money? Hmmm. We just need to see the estimates. Ok. I ask the roofer to give me an estimate. He gave me one two years ago and told me that my roof still had two more years in it. He'd be happy to come out next wednesday. Don't you have anything sooner I ask? How about tuesday. Ok.

The heating guy said that someone from the office would call me to set up a time.

The roofer's secretary is on vacation. He doesn't know how to send me a fax. He put it in upside down, so I never got the blank piece of paper he sent.

The heating guy's secretary never called me so I called her on Wednesday. They couldn't come until next week sometime. I'm trying not to care. The bank said even with the estimates, it's going to take three weeks to close. This is already three weeks after I put in the application. I had to wait three weeks to put in the application so that my listing agreement would expire first.

The bank called me on friday. My loan is ready to close now as soon as I have the estimates. I knew they should want to loan me money. I am like the poster child of good risk--guarenteed return. I call the roofer and explain how to send a fax. After a few tries he gets it. I call a different heating guy and luckily they can come out the same day. He wouldn't write an estimate on the spot, so I expect it Monday. It is Wednesday and I don't have it yet.

I listen to the news about America's debt ceiling. I think that if it doesn't get raised and bad things happen, my mild annoyance at tea party conservatives is going to escalate exponetially. I wonder if they feel the same way about me. This is how civil wars get started. An expert from Harvard advised the President to simply take the matter away from congress like Lincoln did. I'm not the first person to have this idea.

When I first saw the price tag from the Iraq and Afganistan wars, I thought--this is not in the budget, we cannot afford this. When my taxes did not rise to help pay for WAR, I thought, this is not good. This is not fiscally sound. If I have a huge expense, I make some new provision to take care of it.   I understood the stimulus program (presented by Bush). A soft landing and not mass starvation. What I don't understand is how we can expect to pay out these huge amounts (past tense--the money is already spent) and not expect to pay for it. Conservatives are opposed to closing tax loopholes? [Realtors in my City all drive Hummers because they get a very large tax incentive for owning a vehicle with an axil the size of a tractor--it is cheaper for them to buy a Hummer (with its horrible gas mileage), then to buy a more responsible vehicle--that's an example of a tax loop hole.]  The every person is supposed to be opposed to raising income taxes on the super rich?  If I am willing to pay my bills (my country really did spend the money--I owe it and so do you), then why are we being held hostage by an angry few?

I am all for a balance budget (except for emergencies--I need a new roof and I can afford to pay for it over time--that is the balance for me being a home owner which adds stability to the neighborhood,etc.--otherwise, I can't afford a house and we will all live in Potterville.) But I am opposed to head in the sand, no compromise politics. I see people who have lost their jobs and can no longer pay their bills. It is scary. I don't want that to be my country. Is the tea party conservative plan to implode the government? Because that seems like the plan.

God Bless America and God Bless, President Obama.

Ipad Scare

2011-07-15T18:48:00.000-07:00

So yesterday my ipad just went blank. I tried holding down the button, I tried shaking it, I tried plugging it into the charger and then onto the computer. I tried holding down the button again and again. I let it sit for an hour and then tried again. I went on line (first on my iphone, but I couldn't read it because it was so small, so then I booted up my computer at home which I almost never use anymore). I went to Ask dot com, I went to Apple, I downloaded the 286 page manual from apple and went page by page (why don't they have a search box in their manual--seems really dumb). I looked at the ipad for a long time trying to figure out if there was something else that I could plug in or press down to make it come on. Nothing worked. I went to bed pretty heartsick. I just started a really good book that I downloaded on my ipad. I almost went on e-reader to buy the book again on my iphone, but reason and common sense jumped in and talked me off the ledge.

Today (Friday) was going to be a really crazy day and then two appointments cancelled. So as I drove to work (I work next to the mall that has an apple store in it), I decided that I would go to the apple store first, before I started any part of my day. But it wasn't 10 a.m. yet and they don't open until 10 a.m..

So I started a very small project for my appointment at 11:30. When I looked up it was 1:00 p.m. and my 11:30 appointment had just showed up. The small project turned into a large project and just kept getting more and more complicated. A meeting that I thought would only take 15 minutes took over an hour. And then I had two emergency things that I had to do immediately. It felt like a mountain of extriment had fallen on my and I was very mindful of the time slipping away over the next hours. I missed a self imposed deadline and although I am confident that there will be no direct fall out, I am still shell shocked from having so many things hit all at once so that I couldn't get it done. [My theory is that I have too much work for a person to complete without a better support staff, but in a recession, you don't say no to any work and you don't hire more support staff, but I digress.]

Meanwhile, I haven't even stopped for lunch. I did get a call from my doctor--there is a tiny chance I have cancer so she'll need to do this incredibly gruesome test (she described the test in minute detail over the phone as if hearing the word cancer in the sentence wasn't awful enough). Don't worry--just an abnormality to be checked--my luck--it happens to me a lot. I think they see attorney and figure I'm good for screwing with, but I digress.

Next I get a call from the bank. I'm trying to get an equity loan so that I can do some work on my house that no one wants to buy. It needs a new roof. I have plenty of equity, so this should be a no brainer. The bank says that they can't give me a loan until I fix the roof. But I can't fix the roof without the loan I point out nicely to the bank. That is a problem, I'm told.

So I've had it with work and phone calls. My ipad doesn't work, so I'm going to the apple store. It's a long walk through the mall, but I don't care. I love my apple store. They'll fix it. They have to fix it. It can't be dead. I have no money. What if it really is dead... My heart is heavier and heavier as I get closer and closer to the store. I can't have a new one. There is no budget for replacing a complete luxury item. I guess I could get a kindle. It is a lot cheaper. So's going to the library. I'm never getting an ice maker (inside joke on me).

I walk into the apple store and it is so crowded that there is not a single blue shirt not engaged with a customer. I walk all the way back to the genius bar. No one will make eye contact. I walk back to the front of the store. When a service person is finished with a customer, they go back to the front door to help people. I'll just wait by the front door. I spot a customer that has two service people helping him and I walk toward them trying to make eye contact. A line forms. The extra service person turns to me. It is like someone turned on the sun, he smiles so brightly and welcomingly. I tell him my problem and he immediately shares my concern--"oh no," he says in a serious tone. "I don't know what I'd do if my ipad didn't work." "I know," I say. Simpatico--I'm home.

He holds down the sleep button. I've tried that I tell him. He holds down the sleep button and the bottem button at the same time. I think I've tried that but wait--THE APPLE APPEARED ON THE SCREEN. I was so happy. This was opening presents on Christmas morning happy. This was seeing the ocean and being on vacation happy. This was a new Nora Roberts or John Grisham book happy. I love Apple. I love my ipad. That service guy is my new favorite person on the planet.

Whew. That was close.

Wonderful World (Chapter Twelve: Jet Lag)

2011-07-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

When you go on a trip, lots of little things can peck, peck, peck at you, but you have to learn to laugh and remind yourself that you are on vacation. No ice, endless stairs, left and right--it's all just a one eyed bird insulted that you would not pet a kangaroo (on your birthday in Australia), but I digress.

I was finally able to sleep in until 5 a.m., but it was my last day and I was supposed to leave in less than a half hour. No worries, I was all packed the night before and by 5:25 I was in the lobby with my last can of ice cold diet coke looking for a place to sit and wait for Adam. There was no place to sit down. What kind of a hotel has no place in their lobby to sit down. Oh, I could have walked down the two large stairs to their "waiting area" with big uncomfortable furniture, but I didn't want to do that again to my knees. They had two chairs next to the desk and I could have tried to sit on those. But they were antiques and really low. Not chairs anyone would actually sit on. Clearly just for show for the brochure (that really should have mentioned that no ice and no wireless thing). I was just trying to decide if I would chance sitting on my luggage, when Adam pulled up in front. [He didn't help me with my luggage--that's a bad sign--he's a very helpful guy.] Did you get any sleep I asked him and he said a little, but clearly his "little" was as deceptive as his "few blocks". Ok, I thought, just stay awake long enough to drive me to the airport and then you can go back to bed and sleep for days, but I didn't say it out loud.

I was already thinking ahead. Twenty minutes to drive to the airport. Fifteen minutes to return the rental car. That would get me to the reservation desk for the airport approximately four hours early. That's my target now. I have to get a window seat. I focus on the window seat and try not to think about actually getting on the plane and staying there for 14 hours. I try to put that out of my mind completely. I'm focused on the window seat plan. I'm focused. Twenty minutes, Fifteen minutes, rental car...and then I looked at the gas tank gauge. "Didn't you go get gas last night" I yell frantically to Adam. "No," he says, "it was raining." It's raining now too.

Suddenly my twenty minute, fifteen minute, four hour plan is unraveling like cheap yarn at the paws of a frisky kitten. And don't forget, we are driving...in the rain...ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD...on a side street... with stop lights. How can this be the right way to the airport. I don't really know that we are twenty minutes from the airport, we could be sixty minutes from the airport! [That thought kind of made me laugh, because I was still going to be over three hours early. As an aside, let me tell you a little about myself that most of you know--I'm always late for everything. Maybe I think I'm too important to be on time, maybe I underestimate how long things take and I'm always trying to do more than I actually have time to do or maybe I really don't like waiting for things and other people. I hate getting to a movie early--that time before the new movie previews start in a movie is like a slow and painful torture. So it really did make me laugh at myself when I frantically thought, oh no, I'll only be three hours early.]

Lucky for Adam, we passed a gas station and I yelled (in my no nonsense--don't forget who in charge-- voice) pull in. He said, we can stop closer to the airport, but I gave him a very cool, don't mess with me stare and he pulled in. It was a very nice gas station (open all night luckily). I tried to switch gears to "I'm on vacation--this is the last time I'll be seeing Adam for a while--get back to the fun part" and asked Adam if I could get him anything from the little convenience store. "Milk," he said sulking. He's so tired I thought vowing silently to try not to sweat the small stuff. We're getting gas. It's taking no time at all. My plan is not ruined. Just don't think about the 14 hour ordeal around the corner--that corner is still plenty far away.

Back on the road, we started seeing signs for the airport. We passed the intersection where I had told Adam to go right, meaning left--good times. When we got to the airport, there were no signs for Thrifty car rental return, but we were able to go right back to where we picked up the car and we parked it there. We went into the terminal and back to the car rental counter. The same little kid was there. He said did you fill it with gas? Yes. Ok, great. Here's the key, we parked it back in the same spot. Ok. And that was it. The car was returned. It was 5:55 a.m.. I was there 4 hours and 15 minutes early. And the airline counter wouldn't open until 7 a.m. I hate being early.

I thought about being the first person in line (no one was anywhere near the ticket counter), but I really wanted to sit down too. I tried to sit on my luggage--not pretty--did not work. So Adam and I found some seats where we could see the counter and make sure no one else got in line ahead of me. It was a long wait, but I was no longer anxious about the rental car and Adam was no longer enduring mean old Aunt Kathy yelling at him. We settled in to pleasant conversation. I'm going to miss this kid.

At 6:45 we started to see lots of activity at the counter--all the agents were arriving to work. A couple with small children got in line and well, that's just the sort of thing the universe does to lull you into complacency, so I jumped up and got in line too. Within seconds, there were six people in line behind me. Meanwhile, Adam is looking at me puzzled--like did aliens just snatch my body or something--one minute we are sitting nicely and talking and the next minute I've turned into a mad person racing to be in line. There's hardly nobody here he says--there are more people behind the counter than there are in line. I try to let him put things into perspective, but my mind is singlely focused on getting a window seat. It is necessary for my very survival.

As we wait in line I scope out the behind the counter people. There are all sorts of signs over their stations. There is a station for first class. There is a station for business elite. There is a station for domestic. None of the signs seem to be for me. I've seen this movie before. It looks like there are lots of people to help you, but actually, the airline only has "peggy" (that guy on the phone in siberia--cute comercial) to help me. I'm flying economy. I have a bad feeling.

Finally, a very pleasent, competent looking person calls me to their station. I hand her my ticket, I put my luggage on the scale (did all those suveniers put me over the weight limit--I worry about the weirdest things--I bought four baby tee shirts, six magnets, some little boxes of butter cookies and some paintings on cloth. If they weighted six ounces, I'd be surprised, but I'm holding my breath to make sure that my luggage doesn't exceed the weight limit). Anyway, the gal smiles at me very bright and says, ok, we're all set and I remember (how could I have let this go so long in the exchange) "can I have a window seat" I blurt out. There I've said it. Her smile dims noticeably. The air cools dramatically. "Let me see," she says. She types. And then she types some more. I'm practically the first person in line--surely no one else has had an opportunity to take all the window seats. "Ok," she says (kind of meanly), "you have the last window seat. It's in the last row." "The last row," I say (whine actually). "Don't you have anything more toward the middle." "No," she says. "That's the last window seat." Maybe Peggy Sue gets asked for a window seat a lot and there never are any window seats. Maybe I should be feeling sorry for Peggy Sue, because it is her job to tell lots of people that they have to sit in the center seats. Why on earth would airlines even make planes with three seats and even five seats across--what were they thinking. And poor Peggy Sue gets to be the punching bag for all those poor hapless souls who have to sit in the middle. I should feel sorry for her, but she's just consigned me to siberia--the last row--that's next to the rest room. Lions and tigers and bears.

I suppose that my single minded obsession with getting in line and getting a window seat has a tiny bit to do with not wanting to say good-bye to Adam. He's really tired and he still has to take the train home before he can go back to bed. I give him a nice long hug and he tells me to message him when I get home. And I go through security and wave goodby as the line snakes around a corner. My vacation is over and the ordeal of airtravel is about to begin.

Riddle me this. They will not let you take liquids through the security check points. But they have lots and lots of shops and restaurants before you get to security. In LA at least, they have lots of shops and restaurants inside after security, but Brisbane--not so much. One shop and one restaurant inside. I looked through the one shop for a long time and couldn't find anything I wanted to buy. I thought surely there will be something closer to my gate. And then I walked six miles to my gate. SIX MILES. At this point it feels like walking in sand. At mile four, there was a sidewalk mover--that was pure heaven, but it was over too soon and I still wasn't to my gate yet. Meanwhile there is nothing--not a single vending machine anywhere on this six mile treck. I finally get there and off to the side, I can see a vending machine. I can't believe how incredibly relieved I felt. There is no way I am walking back. It was for water, not diet coke. I sit down. The seats are too low--it is really going to hurt my knees to get up. I'm ready to cry. I take out my book and try to read. Don't forget, I'm now three hours early. It's going to be a long day.

After about an hour, I start to get my second wind. I really want a diet coke and potato chips and chocolate and a magazine and maybe a new book and some more souveniers. I'll just walk back to that little store and hey, maybe I'll go and have breakfast at that little restaurant. That would make the walk worthwhile. I'm certainly not eating on the plane. This little bit of logic has me walking back the long, long treck. The moving sidewalk only goes one way and now I am going the opposite way, but there's certainly diet coke and chips at the end of this treck--I can make it. Even though my carry on doesn't have any diet coke in it, it is still really heavy (got to be the ipad). I'm trying not to think about how I will be able to make it back to my gate carrying an even heavier carry on filled with diet coke.

The restaurant was really crowded and nothing on the menu sounded palatable, so I pass and move on to the little store. There were lots of isles and I slowly went up and down each one twice. They had lots of toys that the kids would like, but I laughed at myself for even letting the thought cross my mind--no way am I carrying that stuff on the plane. The books are all books I will be just fine ordering on-line for my ipad and let's face it, I don't really want to add an ounce of weight. None of the magazines were worth their weight. The chips look suspect, but walking all that way just for a diet coke seems like a waste, so I got three diet cokes and a bag of chips.

As I stared down that long, long corridor I happened to see an abandoned luggage cart. No one was anywhere near it. It did not belong to anyone. It wouldn't matter if it was abandoned here or at the end of the six mile treck. I put my carry on on the cart. It was so easy to push. It was so easy to walk without that horrible weight of the carry on. The cart was soo nice. I couldn't believe my luck and in no time at all I was to the moving sidewalk and in no time at all I was at my gate. There was an empty table with nice high chairs. The chips tasted salty, the diet coke was nice and cold, and my book started getting good. Ah, the life. I love being on vacation.

A while later, an airline guy said he'd need to clear the area around our gate. They had to set up another check point for the international flight. By now the other gates had lots of people and there were only low seats available, but my book was still good at least. I didn't really pay attention, but when I looked up there was suddenly a very long line to go through the new security check point. And they were starting to talk about boarding our flight. How had all that time passed by so quick. I got in line and when I got to the front they told me I couldn't take the cart. Boo hoo. I was really pretty attached to that cart now. My carry on was heavy.

They singled me out for an additional security check and I was directed to a curtained area. They were finishing up with a twelve year old boy behind the curtain. I was next. Then they directed another guy over and he went in (cutting in front of me). I was annoyed but no one seemed to care and how annoying are you allowed to be at a secondary airport check point to see if you have a bomb. I didn't say anything. Then they sent two more women over. They saw me. They wouldn't cut in line. Then they sent another woman over. She said--what's going on--are only females being checked? There was nervous laughter but no one was willing to engage further. It is not fun to be checked by security at the airport. When it was my turn, the security person put special gloves on and checked my hands and my luggage for bomb residue. There wasn't any, whew.

By now I was fed up with my carry on. I transfered the bare necessities to my purse and on the plane (all the way in the back) I put everything else in the overhead bin. I gave the airline pillow and blanket to the steward and tried to make my seat belt as loose as possible. I settled in and opened my book. The seat all the way in the back was only two across, so I would have just one seat mate. When she got there she was skinny and didn't seem to speak English. She went right to sleep--it doesn't get any better than that.

I think my book lasted a good two hours into the flight. Then I tried to sleep--nope. I started a new book and that lasted a while. No I don't want breakfast, but I was not shy and demanded a cup of ice. So I had my diet coke and the snacks I brought and tried to sleep--nope. I watched tv and tried to sleep--nope. Then I did nothing at all. Just stared off into space. That's when I got sick. I thought--oh, no. Not a heart attack at 10,000 feet. I'm all the way at the back of the flight, in economy. They are only going to have doctors in first class. I was hot and ready to puke and couldn't breath and I started to wonder, ok, what part of my life is going to pass before me as I die on this plane. Luckily, the ready to puke is an age old trigger for get out of your seat and to the rest room (right next to me) as soon as possible. I was still dying, but now I was up and moving and dying--it didn't seem so very dire if I was able to stand up. I didn't throw up and I didn't die and soon I just really, really, really wanted to sit down. I turned the air blower on me full blast and I survived. Wow, I thought, an EPISODE at 10,000 feet.

I tried to sleep--nope. I looked into space. It was dark outside, but I couldn't see any stars. I think we were in clouds because there was a lot of turbulance. We left a 10 a.m., but we were going back in time because we were going to arrive the same day at 6 a.m.. After a while, I asked a steward for a refill on my ice and handed them back my cup. I'm happy to recycle--I'm right there at the back near their station. I was given back the cup with ice and I poured in the last of my water which was now leaking like a waterfall from the cup. I yelled back to the steward station that had about six people milling around as the water poured over me and my neighbor. It still took about five minutes for them to hand me another cup and another five minutes to get a couple of napkins to dry up the spills. Fun times.

Finally, I watched a movie, but I was now racing the clock. We were almost there and the captian kept interrupting the movie to tell us how close we were. I was the last person off the plane, but at least I was home in LA. The shuttle bus took forever (six stops before me), but soon I was in my own bed, under my own covers. I slept and slept and slept. Days later I still had jet lag, but not so many days later I was able to relive my whole trip on this blog. That was pretty awesome.

I hope that you have enjoyed this journey. I really did have a wonderful trip, but I wouldn't mind a bit if my next vacation was a whole lot closer than a 14 hour plane trip away.

Wonderful World (Chapter Eleven: Deception Bay)

2011-07-05T16:08:00.000-07:00

This was Adam in the surf on our first day at the beach north of Brisbane. When we got to Day 6 and Adam asked what did I want to do, I said, I don't know, what do you want to do? Going back to the beach North of Brisbane should have immediately jumped to mind, but we had to get lost first. Sure we had lots more experience driving and navagating, but I was still pretty crappy at it. Let's start at the beginning.

On Day 5, I couldn't stay awake past 8:30 p.m. (again) and so, I was up by 4 a.m. on Day 6 (again). By now I was very familar with my tv options and I decided to watch some news. That early in the morning, it was on a loop, but I just kept changing channels (there were four news channels) so I mixed it up some. And then of course I had to see Jessica kill someone off at 6. It seems like the killer always catches her alone when she explains the evidence that will convict them--why don't they just shoot her when they have the chance. But I digress.

Anyway, we had talked about different things to do, but we hadn't made any definite plans. So first things first, we drove to McDonald's so I could check my e-mail. I had logging in down to a science and I didn't even have to yell at Adam because it was taking too long (I know, like it is his fault or something just because he moved to Australia and MY hotel doesn't have wireless, but I digress). There was a botanical gardens downtown that we hadn't been to, so we were going to start our day there. Except that when I tried to navagate us there from McDonald's it was one of those--you can't get there from here kind of deals. I mean we went at it from about six different routes and none of them worked until finally we were on something heading north and Adam said, why don't we just go to Deception Bay up at Sunshine Coast--YES, I said, that sounds excellant.

I had read a book about Australia before I went that talked about how long it took explorers to find Australia. I seemed to remember that Deception Bay may have been one of the first landing spots. Anyway, the signs to Deception Bay were easy to follow and we didn't really care where we ended up. So of course we did get lost, but at least we just didn't care very much that we were sort of lost. We were driving up one very residential street in Nudgee and there in the middle of the block was a little neighborhood market. It's time for a diet coke. Then we parked and looked at the ocean for a while and then we continued north to Deception Bay. There was a nice little park (I wanted a restroom, so I walked and walked and walked toward a building that looked like a public restroom, but when I got to it, it was a wall with nothing behind it. I walked and walked and walked all the way back to where Adam was waiting and the restroom was a few feet past him in the opposite direction--that was fun). That little park was ok, but we decided to go a little further north. The last place we parked was a larger parking lot for the beach and it was a nice looking vacation sort of town (except it is Winter, so there weren't many people--the parking lot was fullish, but it wasn't really crowded or anything). Anyway, the first thing we saw was a condo on the beach for sale--$1,000,000. The sign looked really old, like they didn't have too many lookers.

There was a nice, flat walkway along the top of the beach so we walked up it. There were beautiful vacation homes all along the walkway looking out over the beach. It was easy to pretend that they were rentals to a new family every week in the summer and what a great time any family or big group of friends would have staying so close to the ocean like that. Most of the homes looked closed up for the winter, but every once in a while there were signs of residency. It was so peaceful and happy looking.

When we were all strolled and sitting out, we drove back to the City. By now it was late afternoon and I wanted to see the Storybook Bridge lit up at night, so we walked down to the River again. We were looking for someplace to eat and I said, why not the pizza, that I already know I like and we went to the restaurant we'd gone to the first day. This time they just had dumb cartoons on the tv (no tennis), but we had a nice view of the river and as it started to get dark, I got to see the Storybook bridge lit up. We called it a night (and I went back to my room to eat cake--I only had one more day to finish it).

The next morning, Adam had a job interview. I was expecting him at 10, but he didn't come until closer to 11:30. He said the interview went well, but I just didn't feel like either of us was in the mood to try anymore driving. I suggested that we go to the Queen's Mall again and just walk around and we did. First McDonalds (darn if I didn't forget about the elevator and go up those darn stairs without thinking) and then to the Mall. This time, Adam goes in a door and suddenly we are in front of a hairdressers. He said, didn't you want to have your hair done? Yes, how did he remember that. I went in without an appointment and they took me right away (then I felt kind of bad because someone came in a few minutes later and said, ok, I'm back, can you take me now? They had told her to come back in 15 minutes and then I beat her in and now they were telling her to come back in a half and hour--my hair takes a really long time to blow dry). My hairdresser was from New Zealand and she actually used a hair straightener iron or something on my hair. I told her, my hairdresser never used that and she said, that's because she's more experienced so she knows the right tools. It was different, but I'm not going to ask for it. I like my hairdresser's experience slash tools, just fine. It was pricey and at the last minute I remembered not to add a tip (whew).

Well this time around, I noticed a few suvenier shops and I was worried that I didn't have enough suveniers, so I picked up a few more. And Adam took me to his favorite pizza place for a slice for lunch (except that there was only seating outside--have I mentioned that it is Winter there?) Across the street the ice skating rink was open, but Adam declined to go ice skating alone (you didn't think I was going ice skating--haha). We also went into a very cool looking building that was a public library--Adam really likes going to the library in Brisbane, but he needs two forms of picture id in order to get a library card (or even to volunteer at the library). He only has one picture id--his passport (his wallet was stolen soon after he got to Australia, so he doesn't have his picture driver's license--he got a temporary license, but there's no picture on it and it will take six to eight weeks to get a new picture id. It is always something and then it is something else. But I digress.)

It was cold and the air felt like it would start raining at any time. I suggested that we go back to the hotel and play some cards and Adam agreed. Except that he doesn't like to play cards, so we ended up playing scrabble on my ipad. He thought using the hearts to have the computer come up with the best word was cheating, but with that handicap for me, we were pretty well matched and he did start to use it after a while. Later he showed me that he was also playing a word game on his iphone with someone else at the same time and winning soundly. It was a very dreary day outside, but it didn't actually rain (or at least I didn't see it rain). Adam said that it was kind of a record--it rains a lot there and for it to go almost a whole week without raining was very unusual.

We ended the day going to the hotel restaurant for steak. And chips (or should I say very very yummy french fries--score). The steak was excellent and the fries were even better. A big group of very noisy guys came into the restaurant right after we were seated and Adam said oh, no. But they didn't stay long and soon we shared the restaurant with a couple having a romantic dinner and a group of four women friends having dinner. At one point, (we were right next to the hotel lobby) a worker was putting out an extra carpet in the lobby (because it looked like rain). The carpet was red and he was arranging it to roll it out. One of the ladies at the table of the four women friends having dinner, jumped up from her seat and ran out so that she could follow the unrolling carpet and take her bows on the red carpet. It was hilarious. She is definitely my new best friend in Australia.

Well I didn't finish the cake, but I moved it to the baggies so that Adam could take his cake pan home. I sent him home right after dinner, because I wanted to leave at 5:30 a.m. for the airport (well I wanted to leave at 4, but then I changed to 5 and then 5:30--but I wanted to be there no later than 6--more than 4 hours early--I didn't want to take any chances with my window seat and we still had to return the car). I asked Adam to go out and get gas, so that we wouldn't have to worry about that in the morning and he very kindly said, sure. I gave him a hug, just in case I would forget the next day and saw him go off into the night. What an awesome trip. I'll never forget a minute of it.

Stay tuned--I got the last window seat--how I seemed to cut it right to the edge I will never know.

Wonderful World (Chapter Ten: Hidden Mall)

2011-07-04T18:07:00.000-07:00

Here's a picture of the Queen's Mall (looks like summer in this picture--not the time that I went--it was much more gloomy and chilly, but even in the winter all the dining was outside.  But let's start where we left
off--)

So Day Five--I was looking forward to sleeping in, but I was up early, early again. I had a really good book to read. I had ice to chip off my block of ice. I had snacks I hadn't eaten on the plane. I had cake--yummy. I had 14 channels of unwatchable stuff to flip through and don't forget "Murder She Wrote" at 6:00 a.m.--I'm sorry, but if I ever meet Jessica Fletcher in real life, I'm running away--someone is always getting murdered around that broad--she had more nieces and nephews and old friends than anyone on the planet and by golly everytime she went to see them, someone got murdered, but I digress. So an altogether fine, lazy morning, but by noon when I was expecting Adam, I was watching the bottem of the building across the street, which was mirrored so that I could see him coming into the hotel.

Adam and I were just going to walk around--check out Queen's Mall and the downtown area. But first, I needed to go to McDonald's to check my e-mail. The closest one was at the Train station, just a few blocks away. I was prepared for a long walk, because I know Adam's idea of a few blocks. Also, I never saw a train or even an entrance for a train station. I'd seen a ferry stop on the River on our first day, but no trains. I knew they had them, because I had originally mapped out taking the train from the airport to my hotel.

Anyway, Adam leads the way and a few blocks later he starts going up this very steep broad set of stairs. From the street, I can't see the top of the stairs, but there are lots and lots of people going up and down. I, of course, stop. When faced with a flight of stairs, my knees require at least an inquiry into an alternate route--an elevator or lift? An escalator? Two very large men to carry me? Surely there is some alternative to very long, steep flight of stairs--don't they have a McDonalds on the next block at street level? Adam is not amused and says come on. At the top of the stairs, straight ahead is an elevator--I throw Adam the death stare, but he has his suit of armor on and it doesn't even faze him.

We then walk into what I can only describe as a cave--it felt like we were underground. It felt like going into the bart stations in San Francisco. You go down a really long stairway (escalators) down underground to the trains. It felt like we were underground, except that I had just climbed a very tall stairway to get here. Weird. Anyway, the McDonalds was straight ahead--it was tiny and dark. I was hoping for pizza for lunch, so I just ordered fries. Adam once again has to figure out how to get the internet on my phone and I check my e-mail, review, answer, review, answer. My office really could live without me--oh they missed me, but no one died. Darn. But I digress.

After Maccas, Adam and I walked out (I think I made him wait for the elevator, but maybe not because I really don't recall taking the elevator--maybe there was another way out) and over a few streets to the Queen's Mall. There were a bunch of shops, but nothing that I wanted to see and then Adam said, let's go in here. It was a very crowded corner of some shops and straight ahead was an escalator. Suddenly we were in a giant indoor mall with grocery stores, general merchandize stores, lots of clothing stores, little fruit and vege stores, just everything under the sun. There were eight floors and so many, many people. This was a Thursday, but it was wall to wall people everywhere. It was huge. And bright--very clean and pretty indoors. I dragged Adam into a store and made him look at folding chairs, but he refused to let me buy one for him. On one of the floors, the escalator went right into a store that was like a Michaels Craft store (but not). I wanted to look at cross stitch supplies, but they didn't have any--none. When I had gone to London, I had gone into Harrod's and their craft and sewing area was really millinary (for making hats)--that's what this store reminded me of. But we went up another flight (escalator, thank you Queen) and we were still in the same store, but they had lots of cross stitching and knitting supplies. It was cool, but I didn't really need anything and I wasn't going to have room in my suitcase. It was just cool to look.

We kept going up on the escalator and at the very top was the movie theater. Super 8 had just opened and Adam wanted to see it. Me, not so much. On the other hand, it was really gloomy outside, it didn't look like I was getting pizza, so popcorn sounded pretty good just then. And no flights of stairs to walk up to get there. I was in. The movie exceeded my expectations and Adam did not succeed in making me remove my hands from my eyes and ears for the scary parts (why did he even try, silly boy).

We walked around the mall a little bit more and then I said how do you get out--I hadn't seen a single entrance or exit out. Adam said that had puzzled him for a while too--there are only three places to get back out to the street, but he had memorized them and we did find our way out. There was some construction across the way and Adam said that they were builing an ice rink (because it was winter), but that it wouldn't be completed for a few weeks.

Well, I was malled out, so we walked to Adam's apartment to pick up the car (I did not walk up all the stairs to his apartment--just to the parking lot). We drove out to another part of town to the Sizzlers that Adam knew of. He was telling me about when he and Wayne had been at the train station in this part of town. A weird, crazy guy had tried to talk to them and seemed like he was following them. Adam said that he had tried to be nice, but that little bit of not rude, niceness had made the weird guy follow him more. Adam said that they were careful walking home, because they didn't want that guy to know where they lived. It really freaked him out.

Anyway, driving there, I tried to close my eyes. I was not in charge of navigating (thank goodness). Adam found his way there and although the parking structure was the seventh level of hell (think very skinny circular concrete enclosed driveways, driving on the wrong side of the road), we survived and walked a long distance through a concrete parking structure maze to an out of the way, non-descript door. It was all very twilight zone and then out of nowhere was the very pleasant sign for Sizzlers. It was very bright and lovely on the inside--a stark contrast to how gloomy and dark it was outside in the concrete parking structure. Anyway, we ordered and we were shown to a very nice table. The place was just starting to get crowded, so I was glad we were having dinner so early. Adam was back to the table and I got up to get my drink. When I came back to the table, Adam said, "That was him. Did you see that guy you just passed?" "Who," I said. "The weird guy that followed Wayne and I that I was just telling you about." Adam was totally freaked out, but the guy didn't see him and left. How weird was that.

After a while, we relaxed into our dinners. I could only eat half of my steak, but since it is kind of a buffet, they really don't let you take home left overs--no containers. Adam said that he would take the other half of my steak home, but as it got closer to the time to leave, he said are we really fold up half your steak in a napkin and take it home, kind of people? He doesn't even have a dog. No, we were not.

On the way home, we stopped at the grocery store and I got another bag of ice. (This time when I got back to the hotel, I divided the bag of ice into smaller ziploc bags so that it wouldn't melt into a giant block--score).   It had been a nice lazy day (no pizza, but a nice steak dinner and a good movie--it was a very good movie when you close your eyes and ears during the scary part--I can't attest to the movie that Adam saw, since he kept his eyes open, but I digress). And I had cake for dessert back at the hotel. All was right with the world.

Stay Tuned--Adam and I saw terrific vacation homes on the coast--they only wanted a million dollars for them. Such a deal.

Wonderful World (Chapter Nine: Penguin South)

2011-07-01T19:44:00.000-07:00

Look at those big old penguins. For some reason this was my one and only picture that I took at Sea World--go figure, but I digress.

Let's start at the beginning again. Although I had been bound and determined to get with the time zone differences, I still couldn't keep my eyes open past 8 p.m.. I woke up at 3:00 a.m. AGAIN, but this time I would not allow myself to get up. I was determined to try to sleep later, so that I could stay up later. Finally at 4:30 a.m., I gave up and turned on the tv. The tv was on one of the rugby channels, but they were showing the Men's Finals from the French Open and they were already in the third set! If I had turned on the tv at 3 a.m. when I first woke up, I would have seen the whole thing. Oh well. My Nadal won. Yeah!

I was outside at 9:00 a.m. again and this time Adam pulled up on the street right on time--score. We were going to drive south toward the Gold Coast, first to the Sky Walk (a series of elevated bridges over a rain forest that promised to show us exotic birds and wild life), then to Sea World (since I really, really, really was not going to go snorkling at the Great Barrier Reef) and finally to the Ocean at Gold Coast. If we ran out of time, we'd just continue and do some stuff the following day--silly me. We had plenty of time and I should have known by now that the less time we spent driving, the happier we'd be.

So I had the brochure for the Sky Walk place and it was south, but it was much farther inland--not near the coast. On the map it looked like a nice sized highway to get there. In reality, not so nice sized and actually pretty mountainie and long--like driving on Topanga Canyon, but much worse. And we were running out of gas. After what seemed like a very long drive, we found the rainforest and the Sky Walk. It was a little pricey, but I'm on vacation.

So we started out on the walk. They said it would take us 20 minutes out and 20 minutes back. It took us about 10 minutes, so we started to try to slow down, except that there wasn't anything to see except trees. Ok, they were nice looking trees, and there was a little brook, but how long can you look at that. We had seen some pictures of exotic birds, butterflies and really big bugs at the lobby of the place, but outside it was just cold and cloudy. No birds, no butterflies and no bugs. I think we saw a spider's web.

Although this place took no time at all, it was really a long drive back to the coast and we drove and drove. First I made Adam stop at the first gas station we saw--out in the middle of no where. I couldn't figure out what gas we were supposed to use, so the gas station attendent tried to help me, but he didn't know either. So we looked in the book for the car and finally figured it out. So frustrating. Then we drove and drove and drove with the ipad map going in and out, never knowing if we were on the right road or going in the right direction. Eventually, we got back to the coast and stopped at a McDonalds for lunch. And I got to check my e-mail (yeah!).

Recharged, we plotted our next stop at Sea World. They were doing some kind of construction near the ocean and Sea World was not coming up on the map, but the place it was shown on a brochure was like on a penisula. It was very confusing to try to get to it (and my ipad showed an intercection that was actually an overpass situation), but we found it.

It was awful. It was mostly a cut rate amusement park with lots of food vendors, suvenier shops, rides, games and kind of tucked out of sight as almost an after thought was a large fish aquarium with some sharks, a dolphin show, one sorry looking polar bear and very fat penguins. It was really expensive too. Adam saw the price and realized that our admission would probably pay his rent and he didn't want to go. (But this was before I saw how sorry their aquarium was, so I really wanted to go and I'm on vacation). We spent a long time at the aquarium, we hung out as long as we could stand at the stinky penguin house, we felt sorry for the polar bear and we were done really quickly. The dolphin show was going to start in about 45 minutes, so we decided to hang out and wait for it. We got some sodas (I think they were on sale--2 for $4, so we really could not pass them up) and just sat on a bench until they opened the stands. It was a lazy, cloudy, but relaxing afternoon. The dolphin show was enjoyable and on our way out, we hit the suvenir stores and found a bargin on tee shirts for Caitlyn and the babies. [I got them all the same dolphin tee shirt, but Caitlyn and Madi in pink and Matthew in blue--Caitlyn loves to be twins with Madi. Adam got Caitlyn a green alligator tee shirt that I meant to tell her looked like Kevin the alligator from 64 zoo lane--my favorite, but I digress.]

We still had lots of time before we would be ready for dinner and Adam asked me if I was interested in going to Hard Rock Cafe--OF COURSE! How awesome--it hadn't even occurred to me that there would be a Hard Rock Cafe in Australia. It was in Surfer's Paradise at the Gold Coast and we were right there. We left Sea World and were able to find a parking space right on the coast a few blocks from the Hard Rock Cafe. There were lots of vendors and shops--it was like a sea side tourist town--Montery plus Santa Monica times 10. It was really cool. But the best part was the ocean. The beach was absolutely gorgeous.

But it was chilly. But gorgeous. As we walked to the Hard Rock Cafe, we saw lots and lots of shops--very upscale--very Beverly Hills, Rodeo Drive. The Hard Rock Cafe was exactly the same as every Hard Rock Cafe I've ever been in (diet coke, not so good, hamberger and fries, fine, but not great). I got my required Tee Shirt and I was very happy. I even got a milk shake. I love being on vacation. The only bad thing was that the restaurant was up stairs--no lift (elevator). What is it with Australia, don't they know that fat tourists cannot climb stairs? Anyway on the way out, I actually fell on the stairs--well on the landing. A guy was there and he and Adam tried to help me up, but they were pulling me--that wasn't going to work, because my knees were not cooperating. It was pretty akward, but I finally manuvered around and made my knees do their job (such slackers). I was fine, but totally fed up with stairs.

On our walk back to the car we stopped at all the cheesy suvenir shops along the way and I found lots of stuff that I wanted. I tried to be brutal--what ever I buy, I'm going to have to pack because I'm moving next month. Will I love this thing so much that I'm willing to pack it and pay a mover to move it? I said yes to that question way too much, but it did fit in my suitcase, sooooo (I'm on vacation).

I think I fell asleep on the ride home--it was really long. I told Adam that we should start late the next day--sleep in and not meet until noon for lunch. I wanted to sit on the balcony and read a book, we would just hang out in the City and do nothing. It sounded like a great plan and I was already looking forward to a lazy day. I love being on vacation.

Stay tuned: The Queen's Mall really is fit for a Queen, but the creepy guy showing up at Sizzlers--that was creepy.

Wonderful World (Chapter Eight: Maccas, Museums)

2011-06-30T19:12:00.000-07:00

Still Day Two (can you believe it), but it is near the end of Day Two.  After Adam dropped me back at the hotel (and I took my cake and some diet coke), it was another early night--right off to bed for me. I think we got back a little after 7 p.m., but I could barely keep my eyes open. I tried to watch tv to see who won the French Men's finals, but there was nothing about it on all 14 of my channels.   There was no wireless Internet and I had no more International 3G juice for the ipad. I was very afraid of how much the international roaming charges would be for my phone and when I got a phone call I hastily said thanks for calling, good-bye (it was a Happy Birthday wish). [Early the next morning, as I flipped channels, I saw the little ticker at the bottem of the screen that told me Nadal def. Federrer, so at least I knew he won.]

The next day I awoke at 3 a.m. AGAIN. This time I got out my book and tried to read in addition to flipping channels. When I finished my book, it was still hours until Adam would be there. We were going to museums in the City, so I decided to wear dress slacks and a nice top. After surviving the plane trip, my poor clothes needed to be ironed. As I pulled out the hotel ironing board and iron and got the little cup of water for steam, I was trying to remember the last time I ironed anything. I only buy clothes that are wrinkle free. I never iron anymore. But oh, in my youth. I used to iron a lot. It took up big chunks of time. I can't imagine having time to iron anymore. But on my vacation, I had plenty of time. I ironed to Murder She Wrote, took a long break and finished up during Hogan's Hero's. I contemplated ironing additional outfits, but I was over ironing. I was hopeful that my supply of jeans and tee shirts would hold out for the rest of the trip and for the most part, they did.

The big bag of ice that I bought the first day was now a solid block of ice, freezing the little refrigerator, (making the cans of diet coke that I had in the little fridge really, really cold). I used every utensil in the little kitchenette, but none worked as a very good ice pic. It was such a solid block of ice, I was afraid to drop it on the floor to break it up, because it might crack the tile. I tried running hot water over it, but that just made the edges of the block melt.   So I made due with little chips of ice--not ideal.

Anyway, between no tennis, not much ice, my book was done and I didn't want to start a new one yet, I was very ready at 9:00 a.m. to get out and see the town. We planned to drive over to the Brisbane art museums and walk around the campus of the local university. But first, Adam said we could go to McDonalds to use the internet. [Apparently although I never heard it personally, Australian's call McDonalds, Maccas, hence the title of this chapter.] I hadn't checked my e-mail or facebook for days, so I was looking forward to it. I got downstairs early, but Adam was not parked in the loading zone in front. The hotel had little cafe tables outside, but it was pretty cold out. The seating inside the hotel lobby was sunken, down two rather large stairs. It hurt my knees to go up and down those stairs, and I knew Adam would be there any minute, so I bundled up tight in my jacket and sat outside.

9:00 a.m., no Adam. I figured that I would give him until 9:15 and then I would go in and try to figure out how to call him. I started to watch the people going by on the street. There were quite a few people, even though the hotel was on a street that wasn't that busy, next to a park and a hospital. And on a pretty steep hill. I watched so many people, different ages, some in business attire, some casual, some pushing baby carriges, some talking on their cell phones, but none of them were overweight. As I came to that realization, I started to really keep my eyes open for obesity, and saw only the lack thereof. But I digress.

At 9:15, I went inside and I was going to ask the desk how to make a local call. Mr. Meanie was at the desk and he had a line of people to help. That was going to take forever, so I thought, I don't care if I have to wait a bit longer, I'm sure Adam will be here any minute. So I burrowed myself deeper into my jacket and went back outside to wait. Some teenaged girls who were staying at my hotel were getting ready to go out sightseeing. They looked like they were on a soccer team or something--all tan and athletic. They were wearing shorts and flip flops. I was cold just looking at them. I think it was 65 degrees or something. Brrrrr.

At 9:30, I went back up to my room. I tried to dial on the hotel phone, but nothing happened (I was supposed to dial 9 first). I was going to just spend the money and send Adam a text, when I saw that I had a text from Adam telling me that he was going to be a little late. So I waited and waited. Should I go back outside or should I wait in my room. I just didn't know. When he finally got there, he said that he had driven by and seen me sitting at the cafe table. He thought that I saw him and would realize that he was going to find a parking place. He parked about a mile away. This all put neither of us in a very good mood.

The first order of business was the internet, so Adam drove us out of the City to another part of town to a McDonalds with a good parking lot. [Apparently the closest McDonald's is in the train station, but there's no easy parking.] It was a bit of a drive, but a very nice McDonalds. I think that I only screamed twice in fear when I thought he was going to crash, driving on the wrong side of the road. Fun times. [I am embarrassed to admit that I did actually scream in fear at one point--scared the shit out of Adam who braced for impact at my scream, only to realize that I was not reacting to another car was about to hit us, I was reacting to me thinking we were going to crash. It was already the third day and I was still not used to cars on the wrong side of the road. Poor Adam. Thank goodness I didn't have to drive, but I digress.]

The McDonalds was very nice and Adam thought we should have breakfast. I'm not much of a breakfast at McDonalds type of person, but they did have diet coke with ice--score! [It tasted funny though, oh well.] I logged in (after bugging Adam over and over to figure it out for me) and there were my 24 e-mails. It was so nice to have e-mail. Some were from work and I answered and read and answered and read. Before too long, I was all done. While I had been doing this, Adam had been on his iPhone. I think he was playing a game, because he was done as soon as I was (which means that he was really just waiting for me). Our plan for the day was to go to the museum and walk around the museum part of the City. It was called South Bend which I thought was funny, because that's where Erika lives.

I tried to be the navagator using my ipad map, but my sense of direction hadn't improved in the least, so we were both relieved to get there and park not a minute too soon, before our tempers burst. I know that I consciously tried to put past frustration out of my mind to approach the day fresh, ready to enjoy myself and I think that Adam did too, because when we got out of the elevator that opened right into the museum, we were both in a much better mood. We had entered at the Science Center--it was awfully cool. There was one room that had a very long--length of a very long room display of animals, from insects to reptiles, to birds, to small game, to large game animals--including sea life. It was really cool and we spent a long time looking at all parts of the display. There was another room that was all bugs--wall to wall displays of bugs, from very small to extremely large. Adam had a facination with spider webs--all through the trip he pointed out some very large, elabrate spider webs. Very unusual creatures in Australia.

In another building was an art museum. They had a Camille Pissaro painting (my all time favorite french impressionist painter--I love him like a brother of Monet's, but I digress)--apparently Pissaro's son lived in Australia and painted there. It was very interesting to see Australian french impressionism paintings. I really enjoyed it. They also had a lot of modern art, which was interesting. And they had a disappearing edge pool in the lobby. I've seen them before, but it was just so interesting to see the floor seem to meld to the water seamlessly. Adam showed me how it was done, but that didn't make it any less of an awesome sight.

After a while, we were museum'ed out so we went through a tunnel that led to the campus of a University on a park by the river and the surrounding "college" town. There were lots of shops and restaurants and a movie theater. As we wondered around the park, I noticed a lot of construction. Later Adam told me that they were repairing the flood damage. [Right before Adam moved there last January, Brisbane had suffered some severe flooding. The mayor had given a speech comparing the flood in Brisbane to 9/11 in New York, to which American Adam took offense. I tried to reason that maybe the mayor was referring to the effect of a disaster on tourism and not necessarily comparing their flood to the 9/11 terrorist act--but it still sat poorly with Adam.] One of the things that they were repairing was a man made sandy beach and they had already repaired the pool. It was not a large swimming pool right next to the river--you could swim in the pool and look out over the river, giving you the impression that you were swimming in a much larger body of water. It was kind of cool. But it was very cold and there was actually a life guard and a mother and small child swimming. That was not cool--I was freezing, looking at them.

Anyway, we were out of things to sight see, so we decided to take in a movie. The only movie playing that we both wanted to see was Pirates. We got there right at the right time, so we went in. We bought our tickets, got some popcorn and then I realized that there was only one way into the actual theatre--up a very long staircase. That was a very long walk. I so, do not do stairs. There was absolutely no elevator (or lift as I remembered the correct word to request.)

The movie was in three-D (I hate those glasses), but it was a very pleasant diversion to our day. When we got out of the movie, it was overcast and pretty chilly. I was ready to get something to eat (and have a diet coke).    Now Caitlyn likes this cartoon called 64 Zoo Lane. It is set in Australia and my favorite song that they sing in this cartoon again and again is "Pizza, Pizza, Pizza, Pizza, Pizza." So this song is running through my head almost the entire trip. I'm a looking for some tasty pizza. But the only pizza place looks just too upscale--I'm not looking for pizza that badly. Adam suggested a hamberger place, because I was so impressed with the Australian beef. How could we go wrong.   As an aside, I know better. For many, many years, I have been supper careful not to order a hamberger in a new place. I am an extremely picky eater. I don't even really like hamberger, so I know I should have resisted. Except for two things. Cheesecake Factory and BJ's. These are two restaurants in the past couple of years where I have tried the hambergers and really, really loved them. They joined Islands, Red Robin and Ruby's as restaurants where I will eat the hamberger. I am well aware to avoid the hamberger at Denny's or its ilk, but I was (I'm sorry to say) lulled into a false sense of complacency regarding a new hamberger place.

First of all, I'm freezing, but all of the seating is outdoors. Second, the fries were soaked in some kind of marinade and garlic. No amount of ketchup (excuse me tomato sause) was going to fix that, but I was hungry so it took a few agonizing bites before I could convince my hand and mouth to obey my brain and stop eating them. Finally, the burger was so not what I was expecting. My expectation was Cheesecake angus beef hamberger and I got breaded and seasoned so much it tasted like meatloaf (which I can't stand). Adam liked his burger a lot and I tried to be positive, but I could only eat a few bites. I was going to dream about Little Ceasars Pizza.

It was just starting to get dark (it was too cloudy to see the sunset) and I wanted to ride the farris wheel at night so that I could see the Storybook Bridge lit up. Adam said it was really cool, but I'd only seen it during the day. It just looked like an ordinary bridge during the day (think eiffle tower--not much until it is lit up so gorgeous). [As an aside the first day Adam asked me if I wanted to walk across Storybook Bridge--he said it's a very touristy thing to do--lots of people do it. I was thinking about how Megan and I walked across the Golden Gate Bridge--sure it was slightly cool, until we realized we were going to have to walk back again to get back to the car--that was a looooong walk. So I was kind of not enthousiastic. Then he pointed to the bridge and pointed out how walking the bridge was actually walking up the cat walk to the top, then back down to the middle, then back up and then back down. All stairs. I don't think so batman.]

Anyway, we bought tickets for the ferris wheel (quite pricey, but I'm on vacation) but had to wait a long time to get on (--no one was in line, but apparently they can't stop it, even if it is empty to let someone on until the proper number of rotations because there is an accompanying tour guide sound track to tell you what you are seeing--ours didn't work). It was not quite dark enough for all the lights in the city to be on and we were at the wrong angle and too far away to see the Storybook Bridge. However, it was really cool even so. And very relaxing. I wanted it to go on longer, but all too soon it was done and I was getting pretty sleepy, so we called it a night.

As Adam dropped me off, I said, 9:00 right? No more mixed signals. 9:00 o'clock, he said and we both believed him. I remembered to take the baggies this time, but I couldn't break up the block of ice. I did get one big chunk and I melted it until it fit in my cup and turned on the tv. I was determined to stay up late, so that I would adjust to the time change and stop waking up at 3 a.m.. Silly me.

Stay tuned--Day four is the Gold Coast--more driving. Sea lions and white tigers and polar bears, oh my.

Wonderful World (Chapter Seven: Sunshine Sunset)

2011-06-27T20:05:00.000-07:00

Oh yea, here's the poster shot. This is the sunset over a harbor up the Sunshine Coast north of Brisbane, Australia. Adam had asked me if I saw the Sunset my first night in Australia, because they are really awesome, but I slept through the one the first night and every night after the second night was overcast. But it didn't matter, because I saw the perfect one already.

Of course getting here was no simple matter. When we left the zoo, I looked at my ipad map and it was just a grey grid, but I distinctly remembered that the road to the zoo ran parallel to the highway north to the beach. On the map in my memory, the road diverted from the highway and about half way up was the zoo and then in ran parallel until it met back up with the highway. Very logical. How can we go wrong--if we turn right (the correct right that is even right in Australia) we will go back to the place we got off the highway and simply turn back onto the highway North. If we turn left (the real left, not just the Australian right) we will be going North and we will meet back up with the highway and we can continue North to the Sunshine Coast. There was no way to go wrong... except that the road North was not one road going parallel--there was a fork in that road. Logically, I would think that the ocean was on my right--we are in Australia (not California) going North, so east is to my right, but my right and left were really mixed up, so I just didn't trust myself.

Anyway, leaving the Zoo, I said turn right. Adam started to turn right and I said, no, no, the Australian right. So I meant left really. If we went left we would be continuing North. It sounded like a good idea at the time. The first thing that happened was that we came to a fork in the road. I said go left, but when Adam went to the left, I said, no, the other left (meaning right). Adam turned around and now we were going South. I was going to tell Adam just go back to the fork, but I was afraid to talk anymore. A little while later (almost under my breath, because Adam was looking pretty angry still) I said, this is good. I wasn't sure that the place to get back on the highway going north wasn't past King's Beach--our actual destination. So going all the way south back to the place that we left the highway was actually more logical. Hey, I didn't pay all that money for law school for nothing--I can argue anything.

When we got back to the highway (which was a lot farther than I remembered going originally), almost right away there was a sign for King's beach but we passed it too fast for me to see what it said. And the map on my ipad was showing again. We were going to go over a bridge and then there would be a turn off right away. Except that there wasn't. The ipad map was completely unable to distinguish an overpass. There were signs, but none of them said King's Beach. My ipad map went back to a grey grid. I told Adam to get off at the first exit and we'd just go in the direction of the Ocean. (I think I was careful not to say left or right, east or west, because I totally no longer trusted my sense of direction).

So Adam got off and we started trying to go toward where the ocean was. I should say that Adam did that--I tried to keep my mouth shut, but I concurred with his turns at first. Later we were just going and going through neighborhoods with no sign of the ocean anywhere. I was getting very frustrated and Adam was getting very frustrated. The map showed again on my ipad and I recognized a road. It looked like if we turned around and went left on the next street, straight ahead would be King's beach. Adam was sceptical (hell, so was I), but he turned around. The place on the map that I wanted to turn had a little strip mall on the corner (I use the word corner very loosely, but I don't know how else to describe it--a bunch of roads just seemed to converge near it, not perpendicularly, not logical). A store--let's stop for a diet coke I begged. Adam was thrilled to get out of the car and away from me. Ask for directions, I yelled at him as he rushed into the store.

Both of us calmed down and drank our sodas. I think Adam had bought more time on his iphone at the little store, because he pulled it out to look at the map. I also figured out that if I enlarged the map and then made it smaller, the grey grid sometimes disappeared on my ipad. I got a pretty good shot of the map and showed it to Adam. We both felt pretty good about the direction that we decided to take out of the parking lot although I was probably still gripping the dashboard because I felt like we were going to crash driving on the wrong side of the road. My brain couldn't get over the fact that everyone else was too, so it was ok.

Anyway, we drove and drove. The ipad went back to grey. Suddenly, there was the ocean. We parked by the side of the road and walked down a rather overgrown path into the sand. The ocean was beautiful. Adam went right out and waded in the water. I was happy to stay up on the dry sand. It was so pleasant, but I really wanted to sit down. I knew that I couldn't just sit down on the ground (I lost those days 60 pounds ago), but I could see a some big rocks that I could sit on, up the beach. Now all I had to do was walk through the sand to get there and sit down. Walking in the sand is not easy. The rocks looked really far away, but we weren't going anywhere, so I'd walk to the rocks and then walk back. It sounded like a great plan--a great visit to the beach in winter in Australia. So I put one foot in front of the other and sank into the sand and then repeated and sank and repeated and sank. Every once in a while, my foot did not sink three feet and I started to develope a strategy of spreading out my toes in my shoe to distribute my weight so that I wouldn't sink as much in the sand, but it was all superstitious. It was a very long walk. As I got closer to the rocks, Adam had been way, way, way up the beach and was now coming back toward me. He said, "I hope you don't think you are going to sit on that sand barge up there." "What? That's not a rock?" "No," he said, "It's sand and it crumbles as soon as you sit on it. I already tried."

Why don't rental car places leave lawn chairs in the trunks of the rental cars? I mean really, do they think we are going to try to take their lawn chair on the plane with us when we go home. It would be such a small expense. I'm serious. We'd passed a K-mart when we were coming here--surely Adam could find his way back there to buy me a chair--then he would have another chair for his apartment. In my brain at the time, it seemed like a brilliant idea.

Well I finally made it to the sand brine. It was a nice little sand cliff as high as my butt. There was no way that I was going another step without sitting down, so a sat down as gingerly as possible. The sand did give way a little, but just enough of it held and was packed down by my large butt, so that I could actually sit down. I was still a little afraid to breath such that I might cause an avalance, but I rested a bit. Meanwhile Adam went up and down the beach which was pretty rocky. There were flat rocks that had pools of water and they were covered in moss. Adam started to slip a few times and the personal injury attorney drilled into my brain in law school, saw disaster around that corner. Eventually Adam went down hard and I lost my seat by jumping up to see if he was ok. He was fine. When I got to him I saw that just a little further up the beach was a lovely little park with a bench to sit on. Oh, that's for me. Maybe they have a coke machine. A girl can dream.

It was a bit of a climb to get to the park that was kind of on a bluff above the beach, but Adam dragged me up. There was a very nice bench under a tree and Adam and I sat there a long time just soaking in the beautiful view. What an awesome day (I said more than once). There was a lighthouse on the map a bit further up the coast, so we decided that was where we should go to see the sunset (which was behind us, not over the ocean). What time does the sun go down I asked Adam and he said, six o'clock or so. We had plenty of time. I tried to talk Adam into getting the car and driving back to this park to pick me up, but my phone didn't work and we were so lost getting here that neither one of us was buying that plan. The idea of walking back in the sand was not sitting well with me, but I reasoned that at least I had my spread my toes in my shoe technique so that I wouldn't sink down in the sand so much. Not.

We made it back to the car and my map was not grey. It seemed like a straight shot up to the lighthouse and in a very short time we drove into a parking lot. On the map it looked like there was a road to the lighthouse, but from the parking lot, it looked more like a bike trail. We had plenty of time--it was only about 4:40. The cake smelled really good in the car, but I said, let's have it with dinner. We started to walk on the trail out toward the ocean--we were in some kind of a harbor. It was so pretty, but there were a lot of dogs. Between the old people, the dogs and the bikes--it was really kind of busy. As soon as we started walking I realized the sun was looking like it was getting ready to set. I thought, maybe because it is getting cloudy. The sun behind the clouds near the horizon was looking really gorgeous, but the trail was a lot longer than we thought. Soon it was clear that we were going to have to walk faster to beat the sunset to the lighthouse. The sun was going down fast now. [Much later I realized, duh, it is Winter in Australia. Sunset was at 5:00 p.m.]

We made it to the lighthouse (on a very steep hill), but I had the idea that we could go into the lighthouse and that would be the best place to view the sunset. Adam went up the hill very fast, but then had to wait for slowpook McGee. When we got to the top, the lighthouse was not open. We looked out over the hill and back toward the harbor and took a few pictures. It was an awesome sunset.

Then we made the long walk back to the car. On the map, the trail was a circle back to the parking lot, but in reality, the trail turned into a service road for condo's and it was getting dark. We were both pretty glad to see the car, except that it was a rental car and they all looked alike. I think we had to try the key in a couple of cars before we found the right one. [My other new best friend in Australia had a good laugh with us over that one--she said--it happens all the time.]

Now it was time for cake. Even out of the back of the car, it was so very yummy. Adam had packed a knife and forks, but he didn't sing (thank you). Since it was my birthday, I wanted to go somewhere for steak for dinner. I loved Outback in the States, but Adam said he'd never seen an Outback steak house in Australia. They had Sizzlers (which were really much nicer than the States) and Lone Star Steakhouse. I knew Lone Start Steakhouse, so that was a winner. I think maybe we looked for directions on Adam's phone because we found one in Logan that was going to be on our way back. Getting back on the highway was effortless and there were lots of signs for the City (meaning Brisbane). It was a very long, long drive. I was getting sleepy. It was very dark. There were no street lights on the highway. There was lots of other traffic (but they were all driving in the wrong lanes, but then so were we--I closed my eyes). Anyway, we got off the highway in Logan and just when we thought we were lost we saw the sign for Lone Star. We parked and went in. This is the restaurant that you eat peanuts and throw the shells on the floor. There were no shells on the floor, but we were asked if we wanted a bucket of peanuts as soon as we walked in the door. Sure.

The placed looked awful rundown--like it was build in the 80's and never updated (or cleaned) again. We were escorted to a back booth and the other customers all stared at us. It was like we were in the twilight zone. Anyway, the diet coke was not so good, they had no bread (they just ran out before we got there), they put margarine (or some Australian version on the theme) on the baked potato, but the steak was excellent. I remember hating the place and the food, except for the steak. I still remember how excellent the steak was. Anyway, Adam and I were exhausted and we still had a drive ahead of us, so we didn't linger over dinner and we were back on the road. Adam had driving to my hotel down to a science now, so he pulled up to drop me off. I took the cake, a few more diet cokes, but I forgot the baggies and I forgot my sweatshirt. I told Adam I'd meet him out front a 9:00 a.m.--tomorrow, museums--and I thanked him for the best birthday I'd ever had. It really was an awesome, awesome day.

Stay tuned--Where's the best place to get the internet in Australia? McDonalds of course.

Wonderful World (Chapter Six: Crikey Zoo)

2011-06-24T20:11:00.000-07:00

Can you see how turned around that owl's head is? That's me navigating in Brisbane, Australia. I thought that driving was bad on the wrong side of the road. Being a passenger and the navigator was a very close second and sometimes overtook first place. So Adam picked me up on Monday and he's already driving, so what the hey. I had looked on my ipad to navigate where we were going, but my international 3G was expired (I think it lasted 10 minutes for $26), so no more directions. The map however still came up and our gps, little blue dot still came up so, score! But every once in a while the screen was just a grey grid with no map, so I reached under the seat to look at the big book the car rental guy had given us. It was completely incomprehensible--even after I put on my glasses.

Anyway, we kind of followed our noses to get out of the City. Occasionally there were signs for Sunshine Coast, so we followed those. At one point we were in backed up traffic at a light and suddenly my ipad showed the map and our blue dot was very close to the intersection to turn to get on the main highway going north. Just as I was telling Adam, this is it, this is our turn, traffic had started and I said, turn right. Adam started to get in the right hand lane and I yelled, no, no, the other right. He yelled, that's left. We were almost at the turn and I said go that way--the Australian right! That was the point that Adam pointed out to me that Left was left everywhere, even in Australia. Smartass. Luckily there was a big green sign saying Sunshine Coast for the left turn and Adam did make the turn, but it was certainly in spite of my directions.

Once we were on the highway, we had a really long drive ahead of us. The country was lovely. We started to see billboards for the Australian Zoo. Adam said, that's what we should do one day while you are here--go to the zoo. I said let's go today and he said, no, we'd have to go early in the morning. It's 9:30 a.m. It is early in the morning. Ok. So we took the turn off (lots of very readable signs) for the Zoo and I watched our little blue dot go up the road to the zoo. It was really cool to see our progress on the ipad map. And changing our plans to go to the zoo put Adam in a terrific mood--I never would have guessed that he would like the zoo so much.

So, I don't have my fanny pack, no sunscreen, no hat, I'm wearing a sweatshirt on a sunny, beautiful day and we are getting ready to spend the day at the zoo. And this is a change in plans from spending the whole day at the beach. What was I thinking? The first order of business was to buy a hat. Adam didn't want one.

After the souvenir store, we came upon a place to line up to feed the elephants. The time was listed at about 10 minutes from the time we were there and there were literally no other people around. The zoo was practically empty. There were more staff than visitors. I didn't want to wait in line and there was a sign for Koala Bears, so we didn't stay. The koala bears were a little stinky, but awfully darn cute.

We walked up from there and saw an alligator. It looked like a statute. Never moved at all. Then we went back to the elephants. There was now a line a mile long, so we decided not to feed the elephants and I started to be interested in feeding me. I think my diet coke hour was almost up.

We passed more and more alligators or crocodiles or both, but they all looked like statutes--none of them moved. Much later in the day I finally saw one blink. The signs said that they are incredible fast and not to take any changes. No worries--the day I get anywhere near an alligator or crocodile without a big, big fence between us will never happen.

So Adam wanted me to pet a Kangaroo. Really. Wasn't going to happen.

"Come on, Kathy, pet a Kangaroo. You have to. It's your birthday. How awesome would that be to pet a Kangaroo on your birthday in Australia."

Adam on the other hand was very happy to pet a kangaroo--to pet many kangaroos. And we saw baby kangaroos in their mother's pouch. Their hind legs are more like very large bird talons, so at one point I saw this really disgusting looking long talon hanging out of a Kangaroo's stomach--a scene right out of an alien from outer space movie, only to realize that was the baby Kangaroo's hind leg. The baby Kangaroo pulled in their leg (large sharp looking talon) into their mother's furry soft looking pouch. It was something to see.

Finally Adam accepted that I was not going to pet a Kangaroo. A little later we went through the Aviary. I had heard that there were wonderfully beautiful parrots in Australia and I couldn't wait to see some awesome birds. And then I was attacked. We had just entered the enclosure, when I saw a bird take a nose dive right for me. I felt the impact and thought that he hit me, but actually he landed on my shoulder and started to peck at me. Luckily he was pecking at my sweatshirt collar, but I was freaking out and Adam was laughing and laughing. He said the bird is attacking you because you refused to pet a kangaroo.

After a while it was just too funny. One little bird against a great big girl. Finally, a zoo keeper saw me and came over to remove the bird. He said "Oh, is this little fellow bothering you. He is just 4 weeks old and he was born with only one eye. The other birds pick on him, so he tends to attach himself to people." The guy showed us the cuts on his own hand where the bird had pecked him, so I was pretty glad to be wearing the sweatshirt now. Another girl (zoo keeper) showed up to take the bird and she had peck marks all over her hand also. It could have been a lot worse, but I was attacked by a one-eyed bird on my birthday. How awesome is that!

On the other hand, we did not see any beautiful parrots and I beat my way out of the Aviary, tout suite. I was already one very tiny bird's prey, so I didn't want to take my changes with the bigger birds and there were lots of bigger birds.

At another bird enclosure, there was one bird behind a large fence who followed Adam's every move. He really took a shining to him.

Finally, we found the elephant enclosure, but the elephants were out getting fed. We were kind of hanging out in the shade (did I mention what a bad idea wearing a sweatshirt out in the sun all day was). Then walking through the park comes the three elephants, trunk to tail in a line back to their enclosure. They were given really large branches with leaves on them and they were eating them. It was really cool to see how they maneuvered the branches into their mouths using their trunks. We stayed there for a while. It was shady.

At some point we went to the Zoo's version of a food court. It was up stairs, but we did find an elevator (yea!) [excuse me "lift". You can't say elevator in Australia--they look at you funny.] I was going to go for the pizza, but it had garlic on it. Then I was going to go for some chicken thing, but it looked too odd. I think I finally settled for another bacon and tomato sandwich with "chips" with tomato sauce (actually yummy french fries and ketchup). Again, it was Canadian bacon type and cooked tomato--but this time I was careful NOT to try the tomato.

I ordered a souvenir cup of soda. It was going to be $9, but I figured a large glass of ice and a large souvenir cup--I'm on vacation. When the fellow started filling it with soda, he didn't put any ice in it. Wait, I said, fill it with ice. We don't have any ice, he said. No ice? I said incredibly! No ice, he said matter of factly. I'll have a water. While we were eating, a very large, aggressive bird (who looked a lot like the bird pictured above) was harassing a toddler in a stroller near us. The mother was actually laughing AT the small child and berating him for being afraid of a bird. I tried to remind myself that I was in a foreign country and it was none of my business, but I really wanted to punch that woman in the face. The urge was visceral. I was probably just ice deprived. But I digress.

Any way, between wanting to get into a fist fight, no ice, really warm weather and not so much shade, I couldn't stand the sweatshirt anymore and I had to buy a tee shirt. I got a really cool one with aboriginal pictures of kangaroos. Happy birthday to me. I offered to go see the kangaroos again, but I assured Adam I was not going to pet one, so Adam passed. We had pretty much seen the zoo and not a minute too soon. As we made our way toward the exit, we were bombarded with thousands of school children entering the zoo. Thousands. I don't think I'm exaggerating at all. They all wore uniforms. It was quite a sight. And then I saw the alligator blink. I was truly suspicious that they were actual statutes. We stared at them for a long time and they never moved at all. Really something to see.

Outside the zoo, there was a coke machine. A 500 ml of diet coke was $5.50. Four would make a 2 liter that I am used to paying $1.69 for if it is not on sale. So that is $22 vs. 1.69 [In all fairness, the little store at the mall charges $2 for the 500 ml size, so it is $5.50 to $2--275 % increase.] I still wanted to buy it. It had been an hour since my last one. I had to break a $20, but then the machine was out. So, hot (sweatshirt), bothered (wanted to punch crazy mother), lack of ice ($9 for a souvenir cup and no ice--it boggles my mind), lack of diet coke, survivor of a bird attack, really creeped out by the thousands of school children in school uniforms--hmmm, let's add jet lagged, in a foreign country, a foreign hemisphere--I need lots of excuses, because after we left the zoo, Adam looked to me to be the navigator. Suffice it to say, I was really, really bad at it.

Stay tuned--I manage to get us lost trying to find the ocean--the ocean is pretty big--kind of hard to miss.

Wonderful World (Chapter Five: Happy Birthday)

2011-06-24T16:17:00.000-07:00

So this trip was over my birthday. This is me smiling at the rain forest again, maybe day four. I think that is the day that I realized that I didn't have enough good pictures. But let's back up to where Chapter Four left off.

The French Open. As you all know, I am an avid tennis fan--but my ability to see tennis matches is fairly limited to the majors. Only one major is in the US and that is in NY--three time zones away. Another is in Australia (18 time zones), London (8 time zones) and Paris (9 time zones). So four times a year for about two weeks at all crazy hours on limited channels, I get to see tennis matchs. One time I had a terrible cold and stayed home from work for a whole week in January right at the perfect time to see matchs in the Australian Open. Except for the coughing and puking--that was an awesome week. But I digress.

The plane trip to Australia involved going forward 17 time zones and 14 hours travel time so that I lost June 4th. I didn't have a June 4th this year. But that was the date of the Women's Final in the French Open. I wasn't too sad to miss it, because for some reason I just don't like Sciovone. She's such a scrapper and so volitale, that logically she should be one of my favorites, but I just don't like her. It defies logic, but it's not like I'll ever meet her in person and if I did, I'm sure that I would be suitably impressed and polite and not embarass myself. Where was I? Oh yes, the French. Li Na made it to the finals. I really like Li Na. Although she is a solid player, I don't think I've seen her play more than twice. The women's field is really wide open--there are so many excellant players and without the dominance of the Williams, no one remains a clear favorite. So yes, I did kind of really, really, really wanted to see the final. I was soooo happy to see the red clay of the French through the window of that restaurant on the Brisbane River. What a wonderful treat. Li Na won--awesome for the sport. Awesome for her.

They gave us way too much food, but even though I had a refrigerator in my room, I insisted that Adam take the left overs, because I wasn't going to be in the room very much and certainly not for meals. We walked back to the hotel and tried to get the car out of the elevator to go to the grocery store to buy a bag of ice. No attendant. The car was in an elevator, but we didn't have the controls, so we had to go back to the desk. Mr. Smilie, just wasn't as smileali as he had been before and he avoided eye contact amazingly well. However, very soon the attendant appeared and let the car out of the cage. I think I tried to drive again, but we were only going a few blocks. Parking was very odd, but we survived.

Adam had asked me if I wanted him to bake a cake for my birthday (the next day). I love chocolate cake and pizza. I had just eaten pizza, so before I could tell Adam it was totally unnecessary to go to any trouble, my mouth said an emphatic "Yes." "Then I'll need to buy a cake pan," he said. So we shopped for everything that he'd need to make a cake. They didn't have an oblong cake pan per se, but there was one that was close. It turned out to be a roasting pan, but it worked. And the cake mix boxes were a very odd shape. He was going to need a 1/4 cup (metric equivilent) of vegetible oil, so we had to buy a great big bottle. They had a name brand that I recognized and a brand I didn't recognize (surprise, surprise--I was in a different hemisphere) for 4 cents cheaper. Adam wanted to save the 4 cents, but I wouldn't let him. [As an aside, it couldn't have been 4 cents, because they don't have pennies in Australia. Generally, the smaller the coin, the more it is worth. I think they had five dollar coins, and I know they had two dollar coins, one dollar, fifty cents (that was a giant coin), 10 cents (very, very small and thin) and I think that there was a five cents coin, but I don't remember having one. The dimes really threw me off just when I thought it was logical. But I digress.] At the check out counter, Adam suggested that I buy a 24 can case of diet coke (great idea--stock the fridge in case we have an ice catastrophy) and at the last minute remembered that we were there to buy a bag of ice. My girl scout training kicked into gear and I ran out of line to pick up ziplock bags (or their version of the theme) so that I could put some ice into a smaller bag to fit into the teeny tiny freezer for the following day. I was so impressed with my foresight.

We had decided to park the car at Adam's apartment. They had a dedicated parking space and no cars, so I would save $9 a day and not have to park in the elevator. It was probably going on 3:30 or 4 p.m. by that point. I had been awake for over 40 hours or more. Although I was no longer not not hungry, I was pretty exhausted. I told Adam that I would go back to the hotel and take a nap and call him later to do something. If I didn't call him, then he should just come over at 9:00 a.m. and we would head up the Coast. I wanted to see the Pacific Ocean first on my trip. When I had mentioned wanting to go to the Ocean north of Brisbane, Jade had suggested King Beach, so that sounded like a great plan. We'd go to the beach.

Adam was going to drop me off, because he would be taking the car to park at his place. But I couldn't carry the ice and a twenty-four pack of cans of diet coke, so I took just six. I forgot the ziplock bags. When I got to the room I unpacked a little and put the diet coke in the fridge and I was going to make myself a cup of ice to have a diet coke, but instead, I put the big bag of ice in the bottem of the fridge and laid down to take a nap. Ten hours later I woke up.

It was 3 a.m. and I was wide awake. Now what? I turned on the tv. OH MY, LIONS AND TIGERS AND BEARS. There were 14 channels. 14. None showed movies. None. Six showed sports: rugby. All. The. Time. Four were news channels. One rather local. One rather national. BBC and another International. Sometimes the news shows were exactly like Good Morning America--about American news, but with different people. It was so odd. Two of the channels were music videos. Except that one was sometimes frozen on the screen. The other showed music video themes--the top 1,000 songs about sunshine--counting down. I tuned in at about 857--It was so awful that I couldn't turn away--it was like watching a natural disaster--you just can't turn the channel. My favorite was TV Land. Murder She Wrote was on at about 6 a.m. each day. I made sure to tune in. Diagnosis Murder was at 7 a.m.--I'm not a fan, but sometimes it was the only thing on tv. Literally. In between, they had a "Who's the Boss" Short episode. The title credits, three scenes to give you the gist of the plot and the closing credits. Then it was Hogan's Heros at 8, but by that time I was pretty much getting ready to go, so I only caught a couple of episodes. I basically turned the channels over and over and over and over, maybe stopping to see a news story or a music video and turned the channels over and over and over for three hours until Murder She Wrote came on. It was strangely soothing and mind numbing.

Although I knew it was Winter in Australia, I brought jeans and tee shirts mostly. I reasoned that I had a sweater and a jacket, so I should be fine. I brought only one sweatshirt. That first morning, I lameted the fact that I had only one sweatshirt. I needed it as my pajamas (I sleep in sweats because I am always cold), but it was really cold outside (at 3 a.m.) so I was going to need the sweat shirt, sweater and the jacket. And this was only my first day. Oh well, I thought--if I have to buy something to wear, I'll buy something to wear.

As it got closer to 9 a.m., it warmed up a bit, so that I wasn't going to also take my sweater, but I was definitely taking my jacket--even if I just left it in the car. We were going to the beach in winter--I bundle up at the beach in summer, so I was ready for some cold. The sky was a brilliant, beautiful blue. It was going to be a gorgeous day. I'm not sure how Adam and I connected, because I don't think that I could make phone calls, but I walked out and there he was. I got in the car and he told me that there was a cake in the back. I could smell it. It was going to be an awesome day!

Stay tuned--I wouldn't pet a Kangaroo, and a one-eyed bird attacked me. I swear that it is true.

Wonderful World (Chapter Four: Hotel, Smotel)

2011-06-23T18:52:00.000-07:00

I wish this was the view from my Best Western hotel, but it was not. This is the sunshine coast, north of Brisbane. No, the view from my hotel was a bunch of buildings and the tallest one, right out the window had a big digital clock on it. That was actually kind of handy. Also, the building accross the street had mirrored windows, so that I could look at the bottem floor and see Adam enter the hotel from the street in the morning, but I digress.

When we left off, it was still my first day in Australia and I had just visited Adam's apartment, killing time, because my room was not ready yet. My little glass of ice was gone too soon and there were too few of the little teeny ice cubes frozen to make much of a second glass of diet coke, so all too soon, it was time to leave Adam's place and walk, walk, walk back to my hotel. I would say, at least it was down hill, but my knees hurt just as much down hill as up hill. Note to self: lose 30 pounds last month. But I digress.

When we got back to the hotel, there was a new person at the desk. He smiled very brightly and I was encouraged. Mr. Meanie (whom I had met earlier) was still there, but he was excellant at not making eye contact. Mr. Smilie listened to my request to check in and cocked his head and said "Huh?" It was as though I was speaking a different language. He didn't seem to understand me. Finally I just gave him my credit card and he found my room. As I recall these moments, I realize that I was babbling on and on about the odd parking situation, so perhaps I was incoherent, but his puzzlement really lead me to believe that either he didn't understand English or I wasn't speaking it.

Anyway, as I gathered my bags out of storage and started to my room, I asked where was the ice machine? "What?" Mr. Smilie says. The ice machine, I repeated, enounciating every syllable--my English was a second language to him. "No, no ice machines" he says. NO ICE MACHINES??? Really, the expression on my face must have been something for the record books. I flew thousands and thousands of miles to a different continent, a different hemisphere and you have no ice machines? This is information you are supposed to state out loud on your brochure so as to avoid hysterical women from running up and down the halls screaming frauds, liars, cheats! No ice machines--who do you think you are? European? I don't think I said any of that out loud, but it was sure written all over my face. Mr. Smilie, however, was not a complete ogre--he added "You can get ice at the restaurant, right here" and he pointed around the corner. Breathe, I told myself, breathe.

So I went around the corner to the restaurant and tried to get the attention of the fellow behind the bar. He was also, quite the expert at avoiding eye contact. But I was on a mission to get ice. I spent 14 hours in a plane with no ice. Adam's teeny tiny ice cubes just would not cut it for a whole week. This restaurant better have ice and they better give it to me NOW! Finally, I got the guy's attention and he said, "Oh, we're closed for lunch. I already turned off the ice machine. There's no ice."

..........

Even as I remember this, I distinctly remember counting to 10. Let's break down the news that had just been imparted to me. They were closed for lunch. The restaurant in the hotel was closed. For lunch. Ok, I reasoned. It is Sunday. Perhaps on Sunday, a nice breakfast/brunch service is offered and they close in the afternoon before a big Sunday dinner service. I guess I can try to wrap my mind around the concept that they, the restaurant in the hotel are closed for lunch. It is a stretch, but by golly, I'm in a different country. If the custom in Australia is to close the only restaurant in the hotel for lunch on Sunday, then by golly, I'm just going to have to accept that there are some customs I'll never understand.

But "I already turned off the ice machine. There's no ice." This is incomprehensible to me. Counting to ten did not help me at all. There's no ice, there's no ice, there's no ice. I just couldn't comprehend it. Perhaps it was the jet lag. Perhaps it was the extreme fatigue. Perhaps it was that I was not completely not hungry. Perhaps it was my brain trying to circle the drain in the oposite direction being in the Southern Hemisphere. "There's no ice." No comprende.

[That reminds me of what I like so much about "The Tourist", he was speaking Spanish in Italy and expecting every one to understand him--so cute.]

As I left the restaurant weighing my options, stay at a hotel with no ice, stay with Adam with teeny tiny ice cubes, I realized that I was willing to spend money to buy ice. They sold great big bags of ice at the grocery store we'd just been to in the neighborhood. I was willing to buy a great big bag of ice every day if I had to. I had a car. This problem has just been solved. Relief spread through me, delight almost. Oh my, crisis averted. That was close. I feel so much better. I think I laughed out loud, I was so relieved. As I passed the desk, I remembered to ask Mr. Smilie the password for the wireless. [There was a line now, so I had to wait a bit, but solving the ice crisis had put me in magnanomous frame of mind. I was happy to wait.] Finally it was my turn and I tried to remember to enounciate. "What is the password for the wireless internet?" I asked with a great big smile left over from solving the ice issue. "We don't have wireless internet. There is a dial up Internet connection available for a fee in the back computer room." I was just too numb to feel the blow. The significance of "no internet" just didn't occur to me. We walked back to the elevators and off to the side I saw a tiny windowless room with a 1980's computer moniter and it didn't even register.

I put "there's no wireless internet" out of my mind completely. Denial, denial, denial. I refused to allow the concept to enter my brain. Let's see the room. The lobby was nice enough, but there was no ice and the restaurant closed for lunch. The clerks were mean or uncomprehending. It was almost impossible to drive here and parking was in a skinny back alley elevator. My brain had seen the 1980's computer moniter, even if I was trying to block it out. I was getting rather giddy frightened. I tried the card. Nothing. You were supposed to "wave" it in front of the scanner. I waved it and waved it, but nothing happened. I tried the door knob to see if I just wasn't hearing a click. It was locked, but I happened to glance at the key cover and realized I was at the wrong room. Whoops. We went to the right door and the key worked right away.

I was pleasantly surprised that the room was very nice. There was a washing machine in the bathroom, so the sink was built very high. I liked that a lot. There was a full kitchen, stove, refrigerator and sink. Two microwave ovens. [Don't ask me why they had two microwave ovens--there was a washing machine in the bathroom and their only restaurant closed for lunch. I cannot comprehend such customs.] There was a sofa, a desk, two nice chairs and a beautiful balcony with a table and chairs to sit out on. It overlooked the city and it was lovely. But none of the lights worked. Every switch and nothing. Finally, Adam realized that there was a place next to the door to insert the key card that connected the electric. When you leave the room the electricity goes off, so no lights left burning. Very green and economical. Each electrical outlet had a switch on it, so that you could turn off the outlet when you were not using the things plugged in. Really cool. All in all, the place was redeeming itself, big time. It was a very comfortable room.

And then I looked at the tv. WraaRow. It looked pretty old. Oh well, Adam and I will be out most of the time anyway. I didn't fly thousands and thousands of miles to watch tv in Australia--how bad can it be?

Well, I'd gone almost an hour without a diet coke and there was no ice at this hotel, so we should be heading out to remedy this situation. We decided to do some sight seeing and we walked down to the River. I did not have any expectations for the River. My original vacation plans were to go to Hawaii, so trading down to a river from the ocean made my expectations nil. Oh contraire, mon frair. The river in Brisbane was beautiful. Absolutely lovely. The walk through the City was beautiful. It was a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. [And more gentle hills between the hotel and the river than between the hotel and Adam's apartment--so a much easier walk.] Along the river there was a wide flat walkway that made for a very pleasant stroll. We passed a very nice looking bar that served Italian food--that means Pizza. From the window, I saw Li Na and Sciavone and the red clay of the French. The score was 2 2. Oh my. I lost Saturday completely in my flight. I already knew who won, but here it was, right there. We must go in, I told Adam. We ordered lunch (pizza for me) and they had diet coke and a glass with ice without me specially requesting it and I got to watch the Women's finals of the French. This vacation was really looking up, big time.

Stay tuned--Adam baked (after I bought him a pan to bake in).

Wonderful World (Chapter Three: Stairs, Chairs?)

2011-06-23T16:42:00.000-07:00

This little guy likes climbing a tree to get into his house. He doesn't need no stinking chair. Me, same boat?, not so much. So when we left off, Adam and I were walking (read climbing) to his apartment and he had just pointed out their neighborhood grocery store. As it turns out, we needed to go the grocery store, because that is where Jade was (Adam's Australian native roommate--who traded living with her four brothers to be roommates with two fewer boys, Adam and Wayne in a three bedroom apartment). Jade had the key. Apparently, even though there are three bedrooms, there are only two keys. Wayne has a key and we know that he is at work at the Airport Coffee Club (where we've just had breakfast) and Jade has a key, because she was going to be going out and they didn't know what time Adam would be back from picking his Aunt up at the airport. It makes sense to them and the apartment is affordable, so who am I to make waves. Jade has texted Adam that she is not home, but went to the grocery store. So we will meet her there. Me, I was thrilled to stop at a store to buy a diet coke--it had almost been an hour.

The side of the building as we were approaching looked like a brick, non-descript building, but inside it was a big and bright and fully stocked grocery store. Many brands were different, but otherwise it was exactly the same as America. Except that my diet coke was $4.50 for a 500ml bottle. The two liter was also pretty expensive and we were walking and I'd have to carry it, but I wouldn't pay $4.50 for a small one (yet). (I probably made Adam carry it.)

So Jade wasn't at the store, but we presumed that was because I was such a slowpoke and that she was probably home again. I used my credit card to pay, because again, I hadn't exchanged my US dollars and they really didn't want them. Debit or credit? Pin or signature? Can I see your ID? There's going to be a charge for this. I'm on vacation, of course there is.

Outside of the store Adam started up a street and I said, you live on this street (this was before I fully understood that his idea of a block and my idea of a block are two different things) and he said, no, right up here and he pointed. So we walked (read climbed) and walked and then he turned in and said this is it. It is a modest looking building with a nice entry way. He buzzed up and Jade was home. In the foyey was a large staircase. I looked left and right. Where's the elevator, I asked. There isn't one, he said. No elevator? and I looked up the stairs. What floor are you on? The third. Three flights of stairs, I said. Ok, I thought, I can do this. It's for Adam. So I climbed and climbed, turned a corner and climbed and climbed, turned, climbed, turned, climbed and climbed. Finally I looked up and said how much further is it? Each floor had two flights--it seemed a lot longer than just three floors. Finally, we were at his door. His apartment has the kitchen to the left as you come in the front door--more of a galley style open kitchen to the living room space. It was a nice size, but not large. To the right there was another staircase in the apartment. That led to Jade's room which was a pretty separate space. All the way to the left was a small balacony overlooking the street. I asked to see Adam's room and it was a very small room with a mattrass and a bunch of clothes. Where'd you get all these clothes, I asked him, since I knew that he came to Australia with only a back pack and one pair of jeans. He said that these are all Waynes clothes too--they share. Wayne's room was the next door and it was about the same size as Adam's room. The last room was the bathroom, which was a pretty good size and had a washer and dryer in it. Ok, they were third world looking contraptions, but Adam said that's where they do their laundry. They also had a ductless heater/airconditioner. Adam said it works really well at cooling the room down and providing heat for the apartment.

The walls were completely white and there was nothing hung on the walls. When I asked him, why he didn't draw something to put up, he said that they weren't allowed to make any holes in the walls to hang any pictures and the landlady does spot checks to make sure they don't. They did have an Australian flag hanging on a string under the staircase (Adam said he found it in the garbage and brought it home) and they had a tv that looks like the tv we had when I was a kid more than 45 years ago. I asked if it works and Adam said, yes, but they haven't hooked it up or even plugged it in.

As I took in the apartment, my exhausted self was looking desparately for someplace to sit. There was no furniture. If I had tried to sit on Adam's mattrass on the floor, I probably wouldn't be able to get back up. There was one wicker and medal chair that looked one step away from trash day. I gingerly sat down on it and it didn't break. Adam said that's his chair, because he found it in the trash and brought it home. He said that Wayne has a beanbag chair, Jade has a computer chair in her room and he has the wicker chair, so they all have someplace to sit. For the whole week I bugged Adam to let me take him shopping for a chair for me to sit on at his place, but he would never let me.

I met Jade--she was taking a break from studying for finals to make herself breakfast. She's very nice. I didn't see her again, because she was very busy studying the whole week.

My next order of business was to get a glass of ice and a diet coke. I asked Adam for some ice. Ice?, he said, I'm not sure if we have any ice. The look of panic that must have been on my face was probably priceless. He opened the freezer and said, Yes, we have ice. He proceeded to empty these two tini tiny little bitty ice trays into a very small container. He gave me two or three little, tiny ice cubes and I said, no, I'll take all of them. I filled the glass and poured my diet coke. I sat on the wicker chair that still didn't break and there was a cool breeze off the balcony. All was right with the world.

Stay tuned--if I thought ice at Adam's apartment was difficult, wait til I get back to my hotel. They didn't have any ice machines--none. No wireless either. A real winner, I picked.

Wonderful World (Chapter Two: Thrifty Driving)

2011-06-22T19:57:00.000-07:00

Isn't this a cool building. Downtown Brisbane was beautiful--very clean, very pretty, very crowded and very hilly too. The streets were nearly impossible to navigate, but we tried.

I rented a car, because I had the romantic notion that if there wasn't enough to do in Brisbane, we could drive up the coast to the Great Barrier Reef--the fact that it takes two hours by plane to get there should have clued me in that driving there would be highly improbable (30 hours minimum--it was only a 10 hour drive to Sydney, but I digress). But wait, let me start at the beginning.

After I found Adam and gave him a good, long hug (kind of leaning on him, so that I wouldn't fall down), he pointed a few feet away and said, "do you want to meet one of my roommates, Wayne?" Wayne works at the Coffee Club right at the airport directly outside the customs room. How handy was that. And it is a real restaurant, which Adam attests has really good breakfasts. I've just been on a plane for 14 hours with nothing to eat or drink, so the plan is perfect. They had eggs on the menu and crapes and stuff that sounded like breakfast, but I was leary. It was awfully upscale for my taste. Then I saw Bacon and Tomato on Toast--well that's my all time favorite thing to eat--no bothersome lettuce. They had an actual bottle of diet coke with my specially requested glass of ice (I had to explain exactly what I wanted for a glass of ice to Wayne--no, not that tiny juice glass, a big glass--I almost took out my burger king cup, but I didn't want to get it dirty). Wayne took our order and I paid $17 for breakfast on my credit card, since I hadn't exchanged any cash and they really didn't take my american money. My credit card, sure. Credit or debit? Pin or Signature? Can I see your id? I heard that a lot over the next week, but I digress.

The amount for breakfast seemed kind of high, but I was so happy to get to sit down and eat something, I was happy to pay it. AND a lady on the plane had told the people sitting next to me not to tip in Australia. She said that everyone makes a living wage, so there's no tipping. Adam had told me that the wages are really good--something like the minimum wage is $11 an hour and it goes up even for lower level jobs. So I was happy to pay $17 (now that I think about it, Wayne probably gave us an employee discount or something). We took our number and sat down in really comfortable chairs--they were like lounge chairs that you would curl up and read a book in at a table that was just the right height for the chairs. And I got my diet coke over ice right away. I was sooooo happy. I was sooooo stupidly looking forward to my bacon and tomato on toast. I don't know why I was completely unprepared for what I was served. Did I not just fly for many, many thousands of miles to a different continent, a different hemisphere??? The bacon was rather lightly cooked pork--kind of like canadian bacon, with a lot of fat. The tomatoes were cooked--hot even. The toast was very thickly sliced and only toasted on one side. I tentatively tried the bacon and it was not altogether unedible, so I ate it all. Did I mention I was just off a 14 hour flight with nothing to eat or drink for 14 hours? I also ate two pieces of toast, though a bit less enthousiastically than I usually eat bread (hands down my favorite food in the whole wide world--I often say that bread and butter are my dessert, but I digress). I was very hungry and a little distracted, so that, yes I bit into a cooked tomato. I'll never do that again. Adam had some kind of breakfast wrap thing and he quickly cleaned his plate. I was not done just sitting and relaxing, so I offered him the end of my bread and he cleaned my plate too. I've so missed that. Twenty-One years old and still a bottemless pit of a boy, but I digress.

When we couldn't justify hogging a perfectly good table with no food left on it any longer, we made our way over to the car rental stalls. It was only about 7:30 a.m., so I was a little concerned that they might not be open. I was renting from Thrifty. There were five stalls and tucked in the middle was the sign for Thrify. It appeared to be unmanned, but as we approached we could make out the blond head of a young guy sitting behind the high counter. He was really quite hidden until you were right up to the counter. He did not get up from his seat that was too low for the counter, but I gave him my name and confirmation number and he typed a few things in the computer and handed me a form to sign to say that there were no dents on the car. But I haven't seen the car, I told him. That's ok, he says, just a formality. If I find anything, I should come right back and let him know. Now I know what you are thinking--I'm a lawyer--no way am I signing a statement that there are no dents until I see for myself that there are no dents. I'm just about ready to argue with the guy, when I realize--he's a kid. He looks like a bored teenager, who'd rather be out surfing. If I find a dent, I can take this kid in a fight (tired as I was) and get the form back from him. Or maybe it was his accent. He had just the slightest accent that sounded like (and looked a very little like) Lleyton Hewitt, my favorite Australian Tennis player. You're on vacation, I told myself and I signed the form. Do you have a map of the city, I asked that little kid. Where do you want to go? I said, well, we'll want to go all over the City, so if you just have a City map.... He handed me the equivilent of a Thomas Guide (though not quite so logical) for all of Australia--a very large, heavy book and said, just leave it in the car when you come back. After I picked my jaw off the floor, I took the keys, confirmed the parking spot number and let the kid point me in the direction of the lot (right outside the terminal doors) to get the car.

As we were walking away, Adam said, you know the steering wheel is on the other side and you drive on the left, right. There was a disbelief in his voice as if to say, do you actually realize what you are doing, renting a car in Australia. Yes, I know. Then he said, are you sure you got an automatic? Yes, I paid more for a midsize automatic. Ok. Then I looked down at the very large book that was supposed to be a map. Oh my. Lions and tigers and bears.

Adam and I went back to say good-bye to Wayne (and all his co-workers called out to say good-bye to Adam--he later told me he just met them at a party a few weeks before, so their adulation was a bit over the top and Adam seemed a bit embarrassed by it. My theory is that Adam is just such a nice person, he makes others feel comfortable right away, so that they feel a lot closer than they are in reality. That's happened to me. Did I mention the lady on the plane who told "me" that I didn't have to tip in Australia--she's my best friend in Australia, except for Adam, Wayne and their other roommate Jade and the jolly customs guy. I'm very fond of the Thrifty rent a car kid, but I'm sure he forgot me right away--he's just a kid, but I digress.)

The car was exactly where we were directed to go and even though we were just talking about it, I went to the wrong door to drive. Adam very politely offered to drive, but I declined--no, no--I can do it. We switched sides and I got into the drivers side (Australian driver's side). It took a little while, but I started the car and pulled out. Adam reminded me to drive on the other side. I had already forgotten and I was just starting. So I got over, but I was convinced I was going to hit something, so I kind of stayed in the middle of the road. Somehow--I don't know how, because I've blocked it out of my mind, I made it into the City. We had to drive around and around trying to find my hotel. We could see it, but you were not allowed to turn on the street from the street we were on, so we had to try to go around the block. Except that it wasn't a block, it was a large park and then a hospital and we were right back on the street that we couldn't turn from onto the street. After the second time around, I was starting to wonder if that is why I got the room so cheap.

Eventually, we were able to drive past it, but there was no entrance for parking. Eventually, back around we were able to find the entrance for parking--a very skinny alleyway. The parking for the hotel was in a car elevator. You backed into a spot and then they elevated your car to a different level so that someone else could park too. You would have to get the attendent to get your car. It was the weirdest thing and I was not comfortable driving on the wrong side, backing into an elevator in a rental car. And I was still very tired (and not completely not hungry). Still, I did it. But I didn't do it very well, because the attendant wanted me to repark it. I think that is the point that I handed Adam the keys and I never had to drive again. That is not to say that Adam was not a bit timid--you try driving with a hysterical crazy aunt tuting her tongue and staring at you like you are about to crash and gripping the dashboard in a death grip. Poor guy. He did great. I tried to tell him that even though none of my body language or actual language reflected it, I thought he was an excellent driver and I was very lucky that he was willing to drive, but I don't think he believed me. It was not the first or the last time of the trip that he looked completely exasperated with me.

So we went into my hotel to check in, except I was four hours early for check in. After waiting and waiting and waiting for my very rude check in clerk to talk to me (he is not anywhere on the list of my friends in Australia), we stowed my bags and set out to walk to Adam's apartment which he said was about three blocks away. Now let me stop right here to explain that Adam's idea of a block and my idea of a block are not the same. If you have to walk around three sides of a block, to Adam that is one block, to me that is three blocks. So Adam was really nine blocks away, up hill. I know that is not logical, but you try walking around Brisbane and then we'll talk. At one point, after we'd been walking and walking and walking (or should I say, climbing and climbing and climbing--it was really all up hill), Adam said see that building over there (it was about two blocks away in my blocks), that is our grocery store and we live one block away from there. I don't think so Jacko. It was very clear to me that wrong side of the road or not, it was a darn good thing I rented a car even if we never left the City at all.

Stay tuned. Next I visit Adam's apartment after having walked up hill for miles and miles (and don't forget I'm exhausted and not entirely not hungry), I get to walk up three floors (five flights of stairs) and then he has no furniture. I am not a sit on the floor kind of girl (old woman).

Wonderful World (Chapter One: Plane Torture)

2011-06-22T12:31:00.000-07:00

So I went to see Adam in Australia a couple of weeks ago (is that all?) It is winter there (hence Adam bundled up). This is a rain forest behind him--we are on a "sky walk" set of raised trails above the rain forest. The brochure said that there was lots of exotic wildlife--birds, butterflies, critters--but it is winter, so we didn't see anything but pictures of birds, butterflies and critters (giant bugs). But let me start at the beginning.

My facebook post was a little ditty about getting a window seat on the plane. I knew that the long flight (14 hours) was going to be arduous. I reasoned that if I had a window seat and could lean against the wall, it would be slightly less horrible. The gal on the phone who refused to reserve a seat for me assured me that if I was just three hours early for my flight, I would surely get my window seat. I mentioned this plan to another person who said that she arrived three hours early just in time to get in line behind a tour group that was advised to get there three hours early. She got a middle seat. A middle seat WAS my worst nightmare. I got to the airport four and a half hours early. I got the last window seat.

The flight to Australia was horrible. Except for the 1 hour and 48 minutes that I saw the movie "The Tourist" and the two 34 minute episodes of some weird cop drama, and the eight or nine minutes that I dozed off--there is no way to sugar coat it. It was horrible. I had brought diet coke to drink on the plane, but I really tried to sleep for the first six hours, so that by the time I wanted to drink a diet coke, it was warm. The woefully inadequate staff on the plane asked me if I wanted anything at about hour 13 (really--not a single drink service--dinner and breakfast that were so disgusting I couldn't stand the smell from my neighbor and tho only offer of drinks was for coffee or tea--coffee or tea?? really??) The falsely cheery steward type person assured me that a cup of ice was coming right up. Not. Thank goodness they had passed out a little bottle of water at the beginning of the flight and strongly suggested that everyone take one, even if they didn't want it. Little did I know that would be the extent of my liquids on the flight.

The guy behind me took off his shoes at the beginning of the flight and darn if those stinky feet didn't stay stinky the entire 14 hours. The guy in front of me put his seat back as soon as the flight took off and didn't straighten until we landed. So even if I wanted my warm diet coke (which I really, really did by hour 13), I couldn't reach it. For some reason the guy in front of me could not hear my desparate pleas--probably because I was in a stupor and could not get any sound out of my parched throat, but I digress. [In all fairness, near the end of the flight, a stewardess did actually look at me and ask me if I was alright, but when I said I was fine (really expecting the next question to be what would you like to drink), she was gone faster than a water slide and I never saw her again.]

Finally, because all things do eventually pass, even torture, we landed. I took my time exiting, because I really kind of thought I might pass out. My carry on was really, really heavy (three full diet cokes). The lines for customs were rather confusing, but I stood where they told me to. The people directing the lines looked like they were retired greeters at walmarts--they smiled, but they didn't really seem to know any more than the tired and confused passengers. Anyhoo, the customs guy looked at me really closely, scanned my passport, held it up to me comparing my facial features, grilled me on where was I staying in Australia and why was I there. "Grilled" is probably too harsh--they were actually very nice, but I was so exhausted, it was a real effort to remain standing.

Next it was off to get my luggage. I was having trouble carrying my carry on, so I was not looking forward to adding two suitcases to my load. There were a lot of people so I really couldn't get very close to find my bags, but after a while I heard an announcement telling me I was at the wrong carrosal. So I went to the correct one and not too long thereafter, I found my bags. I mustered all my strength and heaved my bags off and proceeded to the line through the next stage of customs. My bags were on rollers, but there were two of them. At first I seemed to have plenty of room to manuver, but soon I realized the line was not where I was standing and I needed to go around, but there were people in the way. A "greeter" type was trying to direct the line, but it seemed to me that she just made it more confused. The line was getting longer and longer, but I was blocked from getting into the line. I wasn't the only one and desparate travelors were cutting into the line. I figured that if I waited long enough, I would be able to get in line properly. If other people wanted to cut, that was on their conscious. I tried to scowl, but I was too tired and no one was looking at me anyway and let's face it, my face just naturally looks like a scowl. I tried to hold my tougue, because obviously these people were just as exhausted as I was, but I may have muttered under my breath "fine, go ahead of me, I'm invisible, I'm not important, please, you are much more important than I am, go ahead". I must confess that my ears were popped and under my breath may have been a little louder than that, but I'm sure that the young couple with their two small children have forgotten all about that mean old lady yelling at them. But I digress.

When the line actually started to move, we were divided into groups and the lines became more defined until finally, I handed my declaration slip to a very jolly, smiling customs agent who said, "no worries, let's take a look at those groceries." I had brough snacks for the flight--I didn't eat any of them. I had also bought a cup of ice at the airport for the flight. It was now a leaking cup of warm water. My jolly greeter wanted to throw it away, but I'm familiar with the tiny glasses provided by hotels and I rather pathetically begged to keep the cup, if I could just disgard the liquid. "No worries" he said smiling and he called over a very important, impressive looking agent who gingerly took the cup and disappeared. My jolly greeter wasn't getting enough appreciation for his jollyness from me, so he moved on to the next travelor, while I tried to calculate how long I would be able to continue to stand without fainting. Two minutes, three--I'll count to sixty and take it from there. One, two...I couldn't focus on counting, so I started studying the people around me. Where were all those people I'd spent an eternity in line with. Am I the last person from my flight being processed--a little rightious indignation goes a long way, when you are about to pass out from fatigue. I had just snapped back to attention, to take my jolly customs guy to task for the long wait, when imposing, stern customs guy returned with my cup, nicely washed out for my benefit. That was so nice and I thank him very much, but alas, I had used all of my allotment of their time and I was quickly sent on my way out the door. The door was realy a passageway and you could go right or left. To the right was a longer passageway and to the left I could just barely make out chairs. I went left and sat down as soon as I could.

Where was Adam? I looked from my seat which faced away from the doors. Couldn't see him. I was going to have to get up and look at the right side exit. Oh bother. So I got up, adjusted my luggage, heaved my heavy carry on and went in the direction of the right side. No Adam. Lots of people to try to get around, but wait, who is all the way to the far side so that he is closest to the right side exit:

Adam. No worries.

Stay tuned--they drive on the wrong left side of the road in Australia making me confuse left and right, left and right. I'd say, "go to the right--no the Australia right." "That's left," Adam would tell me. "It's left everywhere, not just in Australia," he'd say. "No," I'd say, "you know what I mean."

Pauvre vous

2011-06-02T15:53:00.000-07:00

Two years of french and half the family speaking it when I was a kid, probably doesn't make this correct, but my translation is "Poor You". Number One, Caroline Wozniacki--OUT (early too), my favorite, Kim Clijsters--OUT (even earlier), former winner of the French, Kuznetsova--OUT (heartbreak--Bartoli was a monster in that match), Zvonareva--OUT, another of my favorites Jelena Jankovic--OUT (up a set and loses to Schiavone--now that was a heartbreaker), Azarenka--OUT, last year's finalist Sam Stosur--OUT (I was rooting for her--very solid Australian player) and now, today, Maria Sharapova--OUT. Li Na looks good, but I don't like her chances against the huricane that is Schiavone, looking to win back to back French Opens.

However, I will be on an airplane when they play, so I probably won't see it. Pauvre me!

On the men's side, the final four are the four top seeded players in tennis--that doesn't happen too often--especially at the French which is thought of as a more specialty surface. Some of the lower overall seeds are much better on clay, and therefore usually knock out the higher seeds. But not this year. [They actually used a new type of tennis ball this year which bounces better and that may account for part of the difference--who knew tennis was so intriguingly complex.]

Andy Murray is not 100% (weird ankle strain) and has struggled so far. Amazingly he was down two sets against Troicki, and came back against amazing odds to even it up and then they stopped for darkness and he had a real fight on his hands to win that final set. I had never even heard of Troicki before. Tomorrow Murray will face my baby Rafa Nadal (also not 100%). Rafa had an amazingly difficult first round match against John Isner and he was almost eliminated. It went five sets and when he won, he celebrated as though he had won the whole thing--that's how close it was.

Whereas, Roger Fedderer has not dropped a set. He's in fine form, though a little worn around the edges. He beat Monfils in straight sets, but he didn't look all that composed doing it. [OH, Monfils--his match against Ferrer was amazing and astounding and I forgot all the other wonderful expressive words that I'm learning from the Tennis channel (their commentators are not very good, but they do mix up those impressive, expressive words). I knew that David Ferrer would not be an easy match for anyone and I knew that Monfils had the chops, but what an awesome athlete.] Roger will face Noli tomorrow.

Novak Djokovic has done something this year that we haven't seen in some time. He has not lost a match all year (he won the Australian Open). He's only lost one set so far and that was against Juan Martin Del Potro, who two years ago was in the finals. Del Po is no slouch and that should have been a much tougher match for Djokovic, but he really made it look easy. And he beat Gasquet (another very fine player who should have given him trouble) without breaking a sweat. He is looking unbeatable. I don't think Roger stands a chance and I'm kind of worried about my Rafa Nadal as well.

Murray has yet to win a major and he certainly has the skills. Roger is Roger, so he certainly has to be a real posibility. Nadal is going for a record fifth French open title. He's only lost ONE match at the French in his entire career (against Soderling two years ago--yesterday he wiped the floor with Soderling--it was nice to see Soderling lose so completely--ok, he rallied in the third set, but Rafa kicked some Soderling behind.). And then there is Noli Djokovic. He has the calm presence and confidence of a man who is playing the best tennis of his career right now. He's 100% healthy and his skills are top notch. I hate to say it, but I think he can take Nadal this year.

I'll be in Australia for the men's finals. Wish me luck in finding tv coverage. Otherwise, I'll be in a coffee shop trying to get a radio feed on my computer over the internet. Pauvre me.

Hello Kathryn

2011-05-16T11:44:00.000-07:00

You are all so jealous. I went to the Toastmasters District Conference on Saturday. Mark Eaton was the keynote speaker. He had played NBA basketball for the Utah Jazz. His name was familiar, but negatively so. I went with an open mind. Also, James Worthy was supposed to be there--he was getting an award.

I arrived a few minutes late for Mark Eaton's speech, but I didn't miss much. He's very, very, very tall which led to his recruitment. He's a very hard worker and he found his specialty at defense which helped him succeed. Then he described a playoff series against the Los Angeles Lakers in 1988. I was there and suddenly I knew just who Mark Eaton was. I hated that guy, but I digress.

After the keynote speech, I looked around the room and found a friend to sit with. I'm looking and looking. James Worthy is a very tall guy, so he'll be hard to miss, but I don't see him. So the conference continues with a panel of speakers and soon I realize that James Worthy has come in the back and he's sitting in the back row. The room is not that large and he is right there--right there about 20 feet away from where I am sitting. Right there.

Someone called my cell phone. I didn't recognize the number, so I'm kind of curious. The speaker's panel is a bit boring, so I'm going to just slip out the back to listen to the voice mail and if I happen to pass James Worthy and smile large at him (and receive a great big smile in return) se la vive.

It was not a very important call, but I see our area governer whom I've met several times sitting outside at the registration table. To kind of be silly, I said very serously "I know that you are unaware of this, because otherwise, you would be jumping up and down, hardly able to contain yourself, but James Worthy is sitting right in there. I just thought you should know." I tried to make it very tongue in cheek, but she didn't even crack a smile. Oh well. Some people have no play in them.

If I had to pass James Worthy again on my way back to my table, that is not my fault and if I happened to smile big at him again on my way, well, it is not like I don't smile at people. I smile at people.

A few minutes after I sat down, the area govener came by and motioned me to join her in the back of the room. I had volunteered to help at the conference, but I thought my job as timer was later in the day. What the hey. I got up and she drew me over to James Worthy and said "James, I'd like you to meet Kathryn" He held out his hand and I shook his hand and he said "Hello Kathryn" I'm sure that I said hello and something like I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm also sure that my eyes got very large and my smile got way, way too big. I remember telling the area govener that she was very bad and later, much later I realized that I should have gotten a picture.

He was very sweet. He was given an award for his humanitarian efforts. His foundation is for kids--trying to get them excited about math and science rather than just basketball and false hope. He also said that they are currently focusing on trying to support women veterans who often come back home after serving our country to homelessness and single parenthood. [And he mentioned that he was surprised to find himself in a room with Mark Eaton--he hated that guy.]

The conference went downhill after that, but I've had so much fun belonging to toastmasters and now meeting James Worthy feels like icing on the cake. What a great moment. What a great guy. You are so jealous.

A Plan Comes Together

2011-04-26T11:27:00.000-07:00

Every once in a while there is a blank day on my calender. It doesn't happen often, but when it does, I want to savor it. So yesterday, the day after Easter was such a day. No appointments, no deadlines--just a blank day on the calender. I couldn't just take the day off, because the next day was very full (today) and well, I'm a girl scout--be prepared is my motto.

So I took stock at the beginning of the day to see what I needed to do to be prepared. The list got longer and longer as the morning progressed and suddenly I had a lot to do. Then I got a frantic phone call and had lots more to do. Then I got another phone call and something from two weeks ago reared up and now I had even more to do. So I juggled and thought--this is ok. Then I got another frantic message--emergency project due now. As I took a deep breath trying to keep everything in my head, I realized that this was the busiest I had been in a really long time--the perfect storm if you will. Something was going to have to give--I hurriedly finished the first preparation needed and then focused on one emergency after another. At five p.m. the phone stopped ringing and there was nothing more to do for that day. Now I had to wait for today. It was a long night. Waiting. Would my preparation be enough. Would I win.

So I was in court this morning and after waiting a very long time for my case to be heard, I won. Another matter that I had to hand off to another attorney was also this morning and we won that one too. I'd really like to rest on my laurels--I'm not fond of being so desparately busy--so I'm going to take a nice long lunch break and then get back to work. Oh but I do love when a plan comes together. I won, I won, I won.

Down Under

2011-04-22T11:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Diary (Leon made me say it--it's true, but I digress)

So when Life hands you lemons, make lemonade. My Hawaii trip was cancelled (although no return of my deposit yet--good thing I'm a lawyer). So here I was with a budget burning a hole in my pocket. Adam had been in Australia for 81 days, so I tooled around on the travel sites and sure enough for the same budget that was going to take me to Kona, I could go to Brisbane. That button I clicked. I sent in my passport that is about to expire and it will take three weeks to get it back. The trip is planned in five weeks--what could go wrong..

Really--make me a list. I want to be prepared.

So in planning a trip, I started to look around to see what I would wear. I only have work clothes. My weight over the last several years has changed a lot both ways. The tip in lose weight forever was to get rid of all your big clothes--a kind of do or die mentality to scare me into keeping the weight off--like that would actually scare me--Ha. Apparently I would rather have cake then worry about going out in public wearing sweat pants, because none of my jeans fit anymore, but I digress. I had some nice clothes, but I got rid of everything over a size 12--everything. I am way over size 12 now. I have stocked up on clothes for work in my new much bigger size, but have been pretty slow to stock up on regular clothes.

So one of the fellows at toastmasters gave a speech about Walmart. Here's what I've always liked about Walmart--they carry my favorite plastic canvas yarn. Every Walmart I ever been in has a great plastic canvas section. I'm weird. So I passed a Walmart and thought, what the heck, let's see what they have in vacation apparel. Wow. I had to search pretty hard to find my size (I'm wide and long, but not too wide and not too long), but after trying on about 600 things, I found 20 that were just right. I have a favorite blouse that I've purchased for over $50 each at Nordstroms for years. Lately it costs over $65 and they don't have my size anymore. Walmart had the same blouse for $16 in my size and in lots of colors. I would only allow myself to buy one of each color, but I'm already salivating to go back for more. I know, more work clothes, but if I have so many extra, I'll wear them over a tee shirt. Speaking of tees, they had a very comfortable polo shirt, just my style, $8 each in lots of colors. I stocked up. Jeans--that was tough to find in my size, but I scored a few. So I have my air, my hotel, some clothes, my passport should be back in time, now all I need is a visa.

The plane ride is going to be 14 hours long. 14 hours. I'm picturing the air travel from the movie where Cameran Diaz travels to London and the girl from Titanic travels to Los Angeles. Cameran Diaz had a sleeper bunk. I want that. The other girl had a middle seat and cried the whole way. I'm very worried that I'll have that. My airfare was really really cheap. I'm surprised that they can afford the gas, so I'm not expecting anything fancy, but 14 hours is a very long time. And then I have to do it again at the end. I'm hoping that I'll be so happy to see Adam, I'll forget all about it.

Did I mention that my house is for sale. I don't have a new place to move to. Adrienne might. We'll see. We had a big garage sale--lots and lots of stuff and after it was over, most everything left was hauled away to the Salvation Army in a truck--just like on "Clean House" except that when I looked back in the house, it looks just as full and cluttered as ever--not "clean" at all. This is not going to be pretty. So a vacation in the middle of all this is either really stupid or genius. I'll take genius for $200, Alex.

Hawaii Trilogy Tragedy, Triumph or Travesty

2011-04-15T11:05:00.000-07:00

So I've been a little curious as to why my travel agent has not bothered me for another installment on my Hawaian vacation. It is in less than two months, but I've only put a small deposit down. I've never had a travel agent before, though, so I dismissed it. She has my credit card number. Their office is next door to mine. I even gave her free legal advice. She's a professional. No worries.

I saw her in the hallway Monday and she said, we have to talk. Yes we do, I answered--I owe you some money, honey. I'll come to your office this afternoon, she said. Why would she need to come to my office? I still wasn't worried and my curiosity was soon satisfied. The tour company lost its contract with the airline and my trip has been cancelled. Do I want to go at a different time? Am I ok flying overnight? How about a connecting flight situation? She will make it work, but the trip I bought was cancelled.

While my mind was trying to process this, without pulling out my ozi, part of me was saying: This is a good thing, you cannot afford to go to Hawaii. Another part of me was saying: This is a good thing, you can probably plan the trip cheaper yourself. Another part of me was saying: This is a good thing, you are moving--this is a bad time to take a trip. But mostly I was screaming inside NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

In order to remain calm, I told myself--don't worry, you are going. I looked up some places on the internet. Airfares are pretty high and the times are less than ideal. I found a condo rental that is half price that week and the rooms look wonderful. I called to see their availability and I asked the gal about driving to Hilo--she said we do it all the time. Good to know. Calm. I am going. This is doable. Ok, it will cost a few hundred more and the flying is going to be awful, but it will be fine.

Except, I don't want to spend the money--I can't seem to make myself click the button to reserve the flight. I have this whole budget worked out to the penny and there are no pennies left over for Hawaii vacation. But I have to go on vacation--I have been promising myself for years and years. Of course, I also promised myself a piano and now I can't give that darn thing away. [I am having a garage sale this Saturday, so I was going to put the sewing machine that I never use in the sale. Except that I realized that as soon as I sell it, I'm going to start shopping for a new sewing machine. Sewing machine, bike (haven't riden since I was in my twenties, but when I don't have one I feel compelled to want one), piano and Hawaii vacation: these are the defining quirks of my life, but I digress.]

The travel agent is supposed to get back to me, but its' been a week. I don't know what happens next.

House Hunter

2011-04-07T10:14:00.001-07:00

I love that show. And I love Clean House and Sell This House. So I have a sign on my front lawn to sell my house. Have I taken any of the wonderful advise from all these shows to heart? No. My house is such a mess and the only hope is that I have signed a contract to sell, so I must move at some point. In looking for a new place, I have lots of ideas. I watch House Hunter--the people give their realtor a set of must haves and then the realtor interprets their wish list and shows them three houses that have pros and cons. Sometimes they can't reach their wish list on their budget and sometimes all three meet their wish list and they weigh other negatives, like street traffic or location. So I set about trying to come up with a wish list. At least two or three bedrooms (office and guest room in case Adam wants to move back someday), two baths, a garage, nice landscaping, dishwasher, central heat and air, low maintenance, quiet (that's a biggie), near my office--it is a very long list. My wish list is completely out of my budget range (there is a house in my current neighborhood that meets all of this, that is so far out of my price range that I'm sick with envy). So I scaled back. In order to get semi-luxury of nice, but low maintenance, that I can afford, I'm looking at mobile homes. Location is important (near the train and Dad would work). Air Conditioning is important (though I really don't know why--I'm never going to turn it on, but nevertheless not having it makes me feel poor and I'm so tired of feeling poor, but I digress). My roommates complicate my choices. One place that I looked at will take the dog, but not my sister and another place that I looked will take my sister, but not the dog. I have tried to think outside the box and go further up the train route, so I am looking at a place in Simi Valley (unfortunately the jury is out on whether they will take the dog too--but I'm more hopeful because the neighbor has a big dog, oh joy). Then there is a place a little closer that I really like, but they don't want the dog. We are trying to negotiate that the dog will hide until she dies, but that doesn't seem very realistic. Then the place next door to my Dad really wants me--they'll take the dog, but not my sister. I think the guy is going to try to find her a job, so she can get her own place--that's how badly he wants the sale. So I have three options (just like on House Hunters): Will it be the farthest location that has trees and a dog yard, but isn't as nice inside and might make me feel like I live in a tuna can; Will it be the place that makes me feel like I'd be living in a vacation home (gorgeous tree and view), but I'd have to hide the dog until she dies and the rent is the highest; or will it be the most affordable place that is really nice inside, but really depressing outside (no trees) that will make my sister homeless? I know what you are thinking--this is not television--I have other options: townhouse, condo, smaller house, crappier neighborhood--all are still on the table, but undesirerable (stairs--no can do; hate condo's; another house with repairs--no thanks; crappier neighborhood--gas prices, safety). I asked my realtor to look at duplexes for me in crappier neighborhoods. Number one--they all involve a longer commute in not safe neighborhoods; Number two--they are all fixers--not me; and Number three with a bullet--not a single one in my price range has central air conditioning. I know I'm not going to turn it on, but it is the principle of the matter. [The realtor is so cute--she said, why don't I just put in air conditioning. Yes that would solve all my problems--spend money I don't have for something I won't use--I need professional help, not a contractor, a psychiatrist, but I digress.] And my house has not sold. It is run down and full of clutter. I know all the things that will keep it from selling from my favorite shows, but I can't seem to do anything about them. I finally called someone who can work the miracle of Clean House, but she's really too busy (read she knows I won't want to pay enough to make it worth her while) to save me. Woe is me. I started packing last week. I packed the girl scout cookie jar that I will never use. I remember winning it at a raffle. I was so excited--I really wanted it, but I have absolutely no use for it and it takes up a lot of space. I am so screwed.

New Speech

2011-03-29T10:23:00.000-07:00

The purpose of this speech is to give an after dinner talk. I'm to use humor, drama and insight all in the same speech. The title of my speech is "This is a Factory" "This is a factory. The people who come to work here are coming to WORK at a factory." This was the introduction that I was given when I got my dream job at the ripe old age of 19. It didn't sound promising..a factory? I grew up in Detroit. I come all the way to California--to work in a factory? The factory was the old MGM Studio. When you enter the Studio, you go through a guard gate. They have to have your name on a list or you have to have a pass. The first time is very cool--my name was on the list. After a while, though, not so much--there was always a line at the gate making me late for work. The old MGM lot is huge and you have to be a pretty big muckity muck to park next to your office. Peons like me parked in the "structure". Most of the Production calls were at 6 a.m., which means that office workers, like me, started work after all the parking spaces were taken. Sometimes the parking structure was full and we would be diverted to park at the "back lot". Doesn't that sound cool--the back lot of the MGM studios. This is where they filmed many famous movies like "Singing in the Rain". I saw a street that looked like it could have been from Singing in the Rain and I thought, oh wow, this is soo cool. I was totally ready to be filled with magic. Except that I was blocks from my office building and it was really muddy and I was late. The back lot was a bunch of debrie and hollow shell fronts of non-descript buildings--way to take the magic out. My office--my first office was in the "gym". It was the gym that they shot "The Champ" --that movie with Jon Voight. It didn't look like a gym though. It looked like four walls filled with little offices. I was directed to a white pre-fab desk with a bright orange swival chair in a row of white pre-fab desks. I had a typewritter and a phone with 20 lines. I faced a wall. My first job was to type numbers on a page. This was before computers, but after xerox machines. Xerox machines were new enough that it was a totally big deal that we had one in the building and I was supposed to be grateful. I was too young to remember how awful carbon paper was as I was repeatedly told those first few years. The numbers I was typing were the budgets for the television shows that we produced. Later I realized that I was typing everyone's salarys, so I knew what all the famous actors and actresses made. [Women were extremely poorly paid in those days was my take when I realized what I was typing.] On my first day of work, I went to lunch at the commissary. I had seen movies that showcased the commissary at the studio and I was ready to be so jazzed. There were going to be stars, just having lunch like regular people. I was once again admonished that this is a factory. If I see any stars, I was to remember that they are coming to work at the factory, just like me and they don't want to deal with "fans" at work in the factory. No one was dressed glamerous, there were no big stars, everyone was just in a big hurry to get their food and get back to work. I did see one famous person (but I didn't know her name) across the room. Mainly I fought the crowds to pay more than I could afford for food I didn't like very much. No magic. I saw Larry Hagman's parking space everyday when I walked across the lot to my offices (in the gym). I tried to picture Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney skipping down the alley ways between the huge sound stages on the lot, but in fact, the alleys were pretty dreary--the buildings were so tall that there were long shadows over the alleyways between them. And it wasn't like there was a buzz of activity outside the sound stages--filming is a tedious business of blocking, lighting, sound checks--it can take hours and hours to film one scene--usually seven to ten days to shoot a one hour episode. The crew starts at six a.m. and often works into the night. The unions have 12 hour rules and the Unit Production Manager would get in a lot of trouble if they went over, so most of the tv production stuff was over by 4 or 5, but movies--that was something else. People were tired and cranky and always in a rush. No, there was no skipping (except a little bit by me trying to force the magic--that never worked). I don't want you to think that I never saw any stars--sure, they were few and far between since I worked in the office and not on the crew, but one time I was walking across the lot (I was low man on the totem pole, so if there was anything to be delivered to the executive offices at the other end of the studio, I got the job). I was walking up a pretty long alley way when I noticed Patrick Duffy at the end of the lane walking in my direction. I was totally and completely in love with Patrick Duffy and for a moment my total adoration must have registered on my face, but I covered it immediately--I work in a factory I told myself. I looked down and walked resolutely to do my job of delivering. Just as we were about to pass each other, Patrick Duffy jumped in front of me and said HI really big. I rewarded him with a huge smile and he went on his way chuckling. I wish that was my only celebrity moment, but I also almost ran over Mark Linn Baker. I was late as usual and rounded a corner in the parking structure too fast just as Mark Linn Baker was rushing out. At first I gave him a big smile because I recognized him, but I didn't realize why I recognized him. Then I realized that he was extremely angry at almost being run over and then I realized who he was. Yikes. It was actually pretty rare to see any stars, but in the 10 years that I worked there I did see Janet Jackson from a distance once and I rode in an elevator with Steve Martin. I almost fainted from that one, but when I told my friend who it was in the elevator with us, she practically shouted "who's Steve Martin". I was mortified. This was after the Jerk, but well before Father of the Bride. Just another day at the factory. All in all, it wasn't magic, but it was a good place to work. I worked there through college and law school and I left the studio--the factory, for my real dream job, my real passion, being a lawyer. I made it out of the factory.

Indian Wells--the Fifth Major

2011-03-20T09:21:00.000-07:00

On my twitter, I had signed up for the US Open twitter feed. Somehow that also signed me up for BNP Paribas Open--they are very prolific. So I have known about the tennis match at Indian Wells like having a front row seat. They tweet much more than the US Open (they tweet more than Adrienne, but Megan took me off, so I don't know if they tweet more than Megan).

In years past, I have been tempted to get in the car and go to Indian Wells--it is close enough to drive, but I would probably not want to go both ways in one day--it's probably less than 1/2 way to Vegas. However, after my experience at UCLA (near sun poisoning), I hesitated. Each year I would hear a friend say how they saw amazing matches and how he watched Nadal, Federer and Djokovic play in person. I'm jealous, but ultimately not willing to drive (yet).

All of this front row seat information when I am not going to go personally, has been difficult, because most of the tournament is not televised. Except this weekend. It started Friday night on ESPN2--Sharapova v. Wozniacki. Caroline beat Maria pretty soundly, but Maria is always exciting to see, as is Caroline Wozniacki. She is far more consistant than Petrova or Jankovic, so without the Williams sisters, she is the player to watch. She's playing the finals today (unless it is raining there--it is pouring here) against Bartoli. That should be no contest for Caroline. Bartoli is a solid player, but I wouldn't drive 40 miles to see her.

Television yesterday was on ABC for the Men's semifinals. And they were some blockbusters: Nadal v. Del Potro (still not 100% coming off of an injury so Nadal didn't have too much trouble taking care of him) and Federer v. Djokovic. I don't know what is with Fed--he knows how to win--he knows how to handle Djok's game, but he didn't execute. Djok played really well, so that probably didn't hurt his changes. So the final is going to be Nadal and Djok. [Now I wish I were willing to drive so far (and could still get tickets).]

So this should be great that tennis is on ABC, but I actually would rather just see it on ESPN2. ABC was interupted for news breaks. I'm not saying the news wasn't important, but I taped the tennis--I had already heard the news. Next, the matches went over the time. Luckily I anticipated this and taped the following show also. But ABC was going to throw it over to ESPN2 or ESPN Classic when they ran out of time. I can't anticipate that and tape every channel. [Although that is my new plan for taping tennis--que up all the sports channels where it could get thrown after the scheduled end time just in case.]

One thing I didn't get to see much (very little tv coverage) that makes this event unusual is that all the singles stars play doubles. I was so excited when the Williams sisters started playing doubles. Doubles is a lot of fun to watch and I love the Bryans, so I was hoping to see Nadal play doubles. Unfortuneately, he lost on Friday, but tv did show the final set. It was Nadal/Lopez v. Federer and Wadrinka (sp wrong, oh well). Fed won, but seeing Nadal's big smile of congratulations at the end was worth the price of admission. He went out just to have fun and he clearly enjoyed himself.

A very rich fellow who loves tennis bought this event and I guess was the reason that the semi's and the final were televised. I'm glad that there's a great event in the US (just in case, someday, I am willing to drive--the fact that I can, makes it that much more exciting), because from the sound of it, the other big events that attract all the best players thoughout the year that are not at the four majors are in Saudi Arabia--I'm really not going there. I'm such a girl.

"You Have A Cold"

2011-03-02T10:05:00.000-08:00

That is my latest diagnosis. I have a cold. For nine weeks??? The doctor's theory is that I am just getting successive colds and that each one hits and weakens my immune system so I am even more likely to get another one. Doesn't make much sense unless something else is attacking my immune system, but hey, she went to medical school, not me. I've had blood tests, test for whopping cough (really not fun), x-rays--she's looked up my nose, down my throat--I've had my blood pressure and pulse and weight checked a lot. So I have a cold. It is getting worse, not better. I'm taking vitamin C.

On the bright side, I did get out of going to the dentist--didn't want to risk coughing on him. I'm just thinking of his well being. I'm very selfis..less that way. Always thinking about others and never taking care of myself--maybe I should go to Hawaii early to recover from my cold. That sounds really prudent in my present state.

I applaud, you applaud, we all applaud the ipad

2011-02-23T09:29:00.000-08:00

This was my speech last night. I didn't win, but I also didn't get to say the whole speech, because I went over the 5 to 7 minutes. Six years of toastmasters and I still can't get my whole speech within the allotted time--oh well, I hope you enjoy it.

I Applaud, You Applaud, We All Applaud the ipad!

So last year the ipad came out and I thought—that’s just a glorified iphone without the phone. I don’t need that. Sure, I LOOOOVVVEE my iphone, but the ipad is just a bigger version. I’ll just wear my glasses. I didn’t need an ipad.

I got dad an ipad and he absolutely looovveed it. But I already had my beloved iphone. I didn’t need an ipad.

Then Adam, my favorite nephew who’s lived with me since he was a baby moved to Australia. I was bereft, miserable, inconsolable, lost, so very sad. I need an ipad (and a trip to Hawaii).

OMG I love my ipad. It is my iphone, but bigger. AND you can watch movies on it. AND, well, let’s go through the main features about the ecstasy that is the ipad.

First and foremost—there’s no phone and there’s no camera, but otherwise it is very like the iphone in versatility and for the apps. I have heard that they are actually coming out with an ipad with a phone, but that just seems silly.

Next, there are several types of ipads (not to mention the other notebook computers that are following in ipad’s very large footprints, but I digress). There is an ipad that only gets 3G which is what my phone uses to get onto the internet and to sync with my computer. There is also an ipad that only gets the wifi wireless internet connection. My dad has that one, since he has wireless internet at his house--he's at his house most of the time. I have wireless internet at my house, but I leave my house all the time for most of the day, and I do not have wireless internet at my office. Now there are all of these advertisements that McDonalds and bookstores and airports and even some entire cities have wireless internet available, but I tried it at Borders bookstore for my iphone and it actually erased my ebook application—I guess it was trying to sell me Border’s version, but I digress.

So the final type of ipad (currently available—they are always coming out with something new) is the 3G and wireless. It costs a little more, but when you are grieving over missing your pseudo son who moved 18 time zones away, you don’t really care how much it costs.

So my ipad has 3G. This involves a monthly fee, but there is no contract. So it was $14.99 per month for 250 M Bs (whatever those are). After about four days, I received an e-mail that said I was about to go over my 250 MB’s, but for $25 I could get 2 GB’s—M stands for mega and G stands for Giga. So I think of it as 250,000 and 2 million. That’s not it really, but that’s how I think of it. Anyway, I got the 2 GB’s and I’ve got thousands and thousands of MB's left for the month. I think I’m going to be ok going back down to the 250 plan next month. The real explanation from a live guy at at&t said that if I tried to download a movie one time using 3G and not the internet, I’d use my entire 2GB--$25 for one movie, I don’t think I’ll be making that mistake now that I know.

But, the data plan allows my ipad to sync to my computer at the office even if I am away from the internet—so I get my e-mails. There is a cute little noise when something comes up on my calendar that I haven’t silenced yet and I’m thinking of leaving it, because it is just so darn cute—but I won’t keep any noise to tell me about e-mails—I just get too many.

Anyhoo, I had the ipad (didn’t blink at the price tag--didn't look either, but I digress), I had the data plan ($14.99 or $25 per month) and I was ready to go. The apple store guy said would you like a free consultation to get you started. Now normally, I’m a “I don’t need to read the directions kind of gal”, but I thought, what the hey—it’s free. OMG, how lucky am I that I still wanted more distractions from missing Adam, because the free consultation guy showed me how to get kindle books for the ipad. There is an apple book store and a kindle book store—well really it is Amazon, but if you go through the kindle app, then you don’t have to do anything after it is set up and when you buy a book, it magically appears on your ipad. Oh, it is so beautiful. AND the free book that the apple store gives you is Winnie the Pooh with pictures—the kids love looking at that. And the free consultation guy spent the time to find the complete works of Emily Dickenson and showed me how to use the search key so that I could find a needle in a haystack (long story) that I now know with a fair amount of certainty doesn’t exist.

Back to the ipad. So I got back to my office and synced to my computer. It goes through itunes. So everything that I had on my iphone (also purchased through itunes or the apple app store which is in itunes—synced to the ipad. Now I had all of the apps from my phone on my ipad (except ebooks—that’s odd—I blame Borders).

The apps that came from my iphone are small on my ipad or I can press a key and make them twice as big. The picture of most things on the ipad is amazingly clear and wonderful, but not so much on the apps that came over from the iphone that have to be enlarged to the ipad. No worries—so many apps are free, I just went and found them for the ipad.

The pictures—all the pictures on my computer—hundreds of pictures—all synced to the ipad. My e-mail, my calendar, my contacts list and I just tried something today—if I scan a court document and e-mail it to myself, I can open it in my e-mail and not have to bring the court file to court—I have it on my ipad. I am so spoiled.

Now I was incredibly aware that all I really had was a larger iphone without the phone or the camera, so I went looking for things that I would use the ipad for that I didn’t use the iphone for. Newspapers and magazines. I have USA today on the ipad (for free) and I read it everyday. I never have the patience to read newspapers. I also have subscribed to my favorite magazine (although it was in the grocery store one day earlier than it was available on the ipad—bummer). It is so cool not to have the paper copy taking up space, but I don’t have to worry about not saving it because I might want to reread an article—it’s on my ipad.

I have to say I love, love, love my ipad, but my poor iphone is feeling neglected. I just don’t make that many phone calls or take very many pictures. When it dies, I probably will not replace it—but I may be tempted to trade it in for the next generation of ipads that have a phone.

Whopping Cough

2011-02-21T12:20:00.000-08:00

So the doctor who got mad at me for coughing for a month without seeing a doctor got to see me again today (seven weeks and still coughing). She suggested that it might be mold (everyone in the house coughs, so I have to admit, that thought crossed my mind also), but I told her that I cough more at the office. So then I described Adrienne's cough which is very much like mine, except ten times stronger. The doctor said, hmmm. When were you vaccinated for whopping cough last? When I was a child?? It's time for a new vaccine, but not until you are all better--they only last about 10 years and whopping cough is very contagious so Adrienne is probably the culprit. That was the doctor talking--little does she know that I was sick first, so I'm probably the culprit, except who gave it to me in the first place? Water under the bridge. She did a test (stuck a very long skinny stick up and into my nasal cavity) and she'll know if a few days, but don't that sound fun--Whopping cough.

So I have my handy dandy google at my fingertips and I looked up whopping cough (the doctor called it by its Latin or doctor type name and I couldn't spell that so I looked up vaccine which I also couldn't spell, but I got close enough and eventually found whopping cough). I read all of the symptoms and I am the poster child for whopping cough (and so is Adrienne). It lasts four to eight weeks. One more week to go, woo, hoo.

The only thing that has me a little confused is that it is bacterial. But I've had it before. Who keeps giving it to me? That is the question. I suspect Norm. He has a huge cough every once in a while, but it's not like we spend much time in the same room. Hmmm. Maybe he gives it to his secretary who is also my secretary and she gives it to me. Maybe she has been vaccinated, so she's a carrier, but not sick. Maybe Caitlyn got it at school (cest pool of germs), but she's been vaccinated, so she carries it to us old folks who haven't been vaccinated in more than ten years. If I was a detective or a journalist, this would all sound like good stuff. It's a good thing that I'm not a hypochondriac.

Ten minutes and no coughing--knock on wood. Wikapedia says that the coughing starts when you yawn, yell, talk or look at cartoons (I'm paraprhasing). So I need to stay very still--oh no, I just yawned. I'm holding my breath. wish meeee luc k .

Hawaii Part Deux

2011-02-09T18:43:00.001-08:00

These are the Akaka Falls in Hawaii on the Big Island. My travel agent calls the Big Island, Kona, but in fact there is Kona (City and airport) on one side of the Big Island and Hilo (City and airport) on the other side. This falls is on the Hilo side. One of the travel guides on the internet said it is such a long drive, that you should spend half of your vacation on the Kona side and half on the Hilo side. So I suggested this to the travel agent who suggested it to the tour company that she deals with in Hawaii. They must be located in (and get their profit from) Kona, because they said, no, no, no. It's only a two hour drive and the hotels are awful on the Hilo side--you won't be comfortable. Ok. So even though the main reason (besides relaxing and its Hawaii and comfortable ocean view, etc., etc.) for going is to see these falls, I have to drive to the equivilent of going to Santa Barbara to see them and come back the same day. Ok. Not that I ever drive to Santa Barbara for the day now, but it's not impossible.

I went on my iphone map to see how far it was and it refused to give me directions. Refused. On the map it looks like a very big volcano is right in the middle of the Island making it rather impossible to get from one side to the other, but I am assured by the tour company that there is a two lane highway to take me there.

The internet picture on the webcite for the hotel looks cheesy, so I was somewhat sceptical. However, the internet picture on GoHawaii looks awesome. A trick of the camera? A little airbrush here and there? Who knows--and really who cares. It's Hawaii. The garbage dump in Hawaii is still in Hawaii. Even the warehouse that I worked at in Hawaii was in Hawaii--it was dark when we left, but the air was so sweet and lush. I was still in Hawaii.

So yes, I'm going and yes, I'm probably going to be disappointed by some things, but I'll be disappointed in Hawaii. Big fat hairy deal--I'll be in Hawaii. I can't stop grinning.

Ironic?

2011-02-05T13:57:00.000-08:00

I just realized that I am so happy to use an ATM and now my grocery store has self check out that I love and I get so geeked over not requiring any assistance from the checker, BUT if I call customer service on the phone and I don't talk to a live person--I am pissed. I hate talking to a computer and punch 0 over and over to try to force the phone to connect me to a live person, but in a bank or grocery store, I have absolutely no use for a live person and resent them.

Is ironic a synonym for odd?

Hawaii

2011-02-04T10:43:00.000-08:00

So there is a travel agent down the hall from our office. Every once in a while they drop off brochures at the front desk. No one ever picks them up, but I happened to be coming into the office at the same time that the gal was dropping off the brochures and the top one was for Hawaii. I'll look at that.

I went to Hawaii twice a long, long (really long) time ago. Both trips were great, but I hated the very long plane ride. The first trip was really cheap, but then they sold us a bunch of excursions, so it ended up being pretty pricey. The second trip was free to me (except for the couple of excursions), because it was for work. I went over for a week and we literally drove to the apartment at night, got up at 6 a.m. to drive to work IN A WAREHOUSE WITH NO WINDOWS and left well after dark to go back to the apartment for five straight days. I could have been at the North Pole. So the sixth day I insisted that we take the day off and go sight seeing and it was great.

Take a trip to Hawaii has been on my list for a very, very long time, but I thought I had grown--I live in California. This is a rather hot vacation destination and I live here all the time. So why get on a plane and fly to far away when I can just drive to San Diego or up the coast. It makes no sense. Except that I almost never do. So last year I forced myself to take a trip to San Diego. It was nice, but the beach wasn't all that. It was overcast most of the time and that long drive was not appealing. And then there is Hawaii 5 0. It is kind of a cheesy crime show, but the view is awesome. I want to go there.

So connect the dots, and I'm looking at this brochure and it has information about a cruise around all the islands. I've heard of this before and hated the idea, but then I looked a little closer--American cuisine--floating hotel that goes to all of the islands. I took two trips to Maui the last two times I was in Hawaii. It is not unreasonable that the cheapest way to go would be to stay in Oahu and I've never been to the big island, so I have to go. A cruise with American cuisine would be perfect. I looked up the prices on line--ouch.

But it's on my list. I haven't been on a vacation for me in a very long time. I went to Washington DC a couple years back for work--five days--worked 7-8 hours each non-travel day--awesome vacation. (Not sarcastic--I really had a good time.) Last year we went to Kansas City for work--again, very nice time, but for work. Oh, and don't forget my weekend at San Diego. But turn off the phone, my only job is to relax for 10 days...haven't had one of those in a very long time.

So I psych myself up to spend the money--damn the torpedoes--I'm getting the talking Elmo (inside joke--a friend of mine was broke to the point of taking out payday loans, on the brink of wage garnishments and she bought a talking Elmo--she doesn't even have kids). Then I realize, I also have to get there and look up airfares--double ouch.

So I'm leaving for lunch the next day and my feet find their way to the office of the travel agent. They have a De La Crois hanging on the wall. I love those prints. It must be a sign. I lay out everything to the travel agent and she says, "what's your budget." I tell her the ginormous number that I have estimated that it could cost me and she says she'll get back to me by the end of the day. Then nothing. She doesn't call back.

So I'm thinking about it and I go back on line to look at the cruise. I hate cruises. I notice some small print. The steakhouse (that caught my eye and pushed me over the edge on a cruise) is available for an extra charge. At each stop they have excursions you can buy and they are not cheap. I'm wondering if there is anything but a sleazy dock where we pull into port--been to enough of those to last me a lifetime. So now, I'm thinking--"what were you thinking"--I hate cruises. All I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air--OK, an ocean view would be awesome and comfortable is a must, but I don't care about all the silly vacation stuff that other people are looking for. A nice view, maybe one day of renting a car to go see a volcano.

So I put that in an e-mail to Ms. Travel Agent and she calls me right back. She's so happy that I have lowered my expectations, because there is no way she can swing a cruise on my budget (double occupancy means I pay twice what I put in my budget and my budget was already anemic compared to the actual cost). She has lots of great ideas in my budget.

My ginormous budget that I can't afford to leave a great vacation destination to fly five hours to a tourist trap where I will pay so, so, so much extra for my diet coke. This does not sound good.

So she was going to call me back by end of business yesterday with a proposal for my new plan. She hasn't called. I can either throw more money at this or grow up and take it off the list. Decisions, decisions.

P.S. Just got the e-mail that for my ginormous budget I can get 7 days at cheesy partial ocean view hotel. Tried to find restaurants in the area and the pickings are slim and pricey. No steakhouses--they lik'a the fish there. Do they even have McDonalds in Hawaii? They must, but what if they don't?

Cough, Cough, Cough

2011-02-01T13:18:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm still coughing. It has been a month. Everyone is tired of my cough. I went to the doctors on Saturday, but the parking lot for a rather large medical building was completely empty. They were closed on Saturday--every single office in that building was closed on Saturday. Last year when I went, I had a Saturday morning appointment--what a difference a year makes. Anyway, I was busy yesterday, but coughed up a lung anyway, so I took this morning off and went to the doctor. Ok, I took the morning off and played with Matthew and Madilyn until it was time for them to leave and then took a side trip to Glendale Beautiful (where I didn't volunteer for anything I'm very proud to say, coughed a lot, yes, volunteered, no). After Glendale Beautiful, I found the right entrance onto the freeway and headed to the doctor. I figured that it would be easier to make an appointment by going in. I've waited on hold for my doctor's office--probably longer than I've spoken with her in person over the past 12 years. I was lucky to find a parking space--the lot was completely full--but someone was leaving just as I got there. I glanced at my watch and was a bit concerned that it was 20 minutes to noon. My doctor's office closes from noon to 1:30 for lunch (kind of like the courts). How long can it take to make an appointment when I'm right there in person?

So this story has a happy ending (of sorts--the real happy ending will be when I stop coughing). I said, I need to make an appointment because I've had a cough for a month. The girl said would you like to have a morning appointment with Dr. so and so. Remember, it is 20 minutes to Noon. Sure, I say. Have a seat. Five minutes later I'm called in. They weigh me and take my blood pressure (fat and normal). The nurse takes a really long time to check my pulse--I started to wonder if I didn't have one and is that a problem, but she was done and said the doctor would be right in. I pulled out my phone to check my e-mail and the doctor walked right in--I was shocked. I told her my ailments and described how the cough medicine that I was taking made no impact on my cough in the least. She asked about mucuse and I'll spare the details of her descriptive question, but my answer was pretty tame on the subject. And then she said "No one should have a cough for a month. You have a low grade infection and we are going to treat it with antibiotics." Now you probably don't know me well enough to know that I hate antibiotics. I'm opposed to them as a rule. I've refused them on many occasions in which doctors have said, you may have an infection, so we'll give you antibiotics just in case--I say no if it is I "may" have an infection. Do I have one or not. If you don't know, I'm not going to endanger the planet by taking unnecessary antibiotics. But this doctor didn't say that. She asked some very pointed, detailed questions about mucuse, after suggesting musinex (which I informed her did nothing to help my cough) and then she said definitively, "you have an infection." So I have antibiotics--"that's why God invented them," she said. Wow. I am really hopeful that my cough will be gone in three to four days (course of treatment).

I also have a very wierd bruise on my hand. Blood tests to follow--stay tuned.

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

2011-01-28T14:10:00.000-08:00

The good thing about the Australian Open is the amount of coverage on ESPN2--I saw a surprisingly high number of matches. I think the reason is the timing. Football is almost over and Australia is 19 hours ahead, so the prime time of matches are in the middle of the night for us. That is also the bad news--in order to watch the games live, I have to stay up overnight. The first night I stayed up through the opening set to see how it was going--wow, wow, wow was that Federer/Djokovic match fantastic, but my eyes kept closing on me. I ended up going to sleep and trying to finish it in the morning, but the UGLY was that the dvr cut off with the scheduled end time and of course it wasn't over. So the good is that ESPN2 replayed it again later in the day, so I taped the shows that followed it as well. The bad is that one half hour show got missed so I missed several games in the middle of the third set--oh well, I got to see the end-OH MY, OH MY, OH MY. Djokovic might have to become my new favorite player (as long as Nadal is out anyway--that was UGLY, when Nadal lost to Ferrer--Ugly, Ugly, Ugly).

Anyway, the next night I only stayed awake for the opening games--Ferrer was giving Murray as good as he got. They stayed pretty much even which really meant that Ferrer was playing great and Murray was having a bit of an off match. Murray really has superior skills, but Ferrer was much, much more focused. This morning, I went to watch the tape and it was all there--success.

Tonight is the women's final. Oh, the match between Li Na and Wozniaci was so amazing. Li Na was down a set and down in the second 4-1. And let me tell you Caroline is a fighter in the extreme--she doesn't GIVE anyone anything. There are some players who beat themselves (Sharapova), but not Wozniaci. Li Na had to take that match away from her and she did it in spectacular form. So now we get Li Na (first Chinese Women to reach the finals in any grand slam event) against Kim Clijsters. Li Na has a great game, but I still like Kim to win it all. And Justine Henin retired again. The commentators were all nice to her and about her, but all I could think of, was she didn't place well enough, so she didn't want to play anymore. They said something about an injury, but I'm prejudiced because I have just never liked her.

So in the middle of the night tonight, Li Na will take on Kim Clijsters. I want to stay up all night and watch it so I will be good and tired tomorrow and take a nap, so that I can stay up all night on Saturday to watch Djokovic v. Murray. After the Djokovic/Federer match, I'm pretty sure that I will be strongly rooting for Djokovic, but the commentators are all pretty excited about how good Murray is when he is totally engaged. I haven't seen it, but hopefully Djokovic will bring out his best.

All in all, I'm disappointed that Nadal is out and that he is injured--that is ugly. There is a tournament in Indian Wells in March and I'm guessing he will not attend. I just hope that he is 100% for the French--he owns that one.

The Good (Djokovic--Wow, just Wow), the Bad (I better figure out the taping just in case I fall asleep) and the Ugly--I will have to stay up until 2 or 3:30 or even 4 in the morning--I'm no spring chicken--this will get ugly--I see toothpicks holding my eyes open in my future.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie

2011-01-22T11:01:00.001-08:00

Those fans are very vocal. Well we have the round of 16. Isner did not go 70 games and he did not win. He's like a very large teddy bear--you like him a lot--he's a teddy bear, but he's just too big. He only has one real weapon, a killer serve. All the rest is almost painful to watch. In the latter part of the games, he looks like every step is a chore. He is sometimes playful, but mostly looks like he doesn't want to be there. Kind of sad for us Americans, but we're amatuers. Sam Stosur lost--lions and tigers and bears. I haven't watched the game yet, but it was on my twitter (I really need to unfollow the tennis channel). She was the only hope for Australia to win their own open. I mean, America is pretty lucky, we have the Williams sisters and we even have Roddick--sure he hasn't won in a while, but he's still a top ten for the past seven or eight years. Australia had only Hewitt for the longest time. I love Hewitt, but the guy doesn't even come close to beating a Roger or Nadal. Sam at least had a game that could beat a Kim or Caroline or Maria and certainly a Zvonoreva. It really wasn't outside the realm of possibility with the Williams sisters out that she would win the whole thing. Oh well.

The good news is that Kuznetsova took care of Henin--I do not like Justine and Kuznetsova is pretty good--she's been much higher ranked than her current 23, so it is nice to see her advance. I was very sorry to see Petrova go out--I like Petrova a lot--very dynamic player, but for Kim Clijster's sake--her portion of the draw just got a lot easier. Maria struggled against Goerges, but her serve is her bigger enemy. Darn shoulder injuries are career killers, so I'm very glad that she's made it this far--if she can just keep it going, I would love to see her play Caroline Wozniacki in the semi. On the other side, I really think that Kim can wipe the floor with all of them, but every once in a while, Kim just doesn't show up, so I hope that she continues to play well.

On the men's side, Nadal has not dropped a set. Of course, he lucked out a bit when the youngster Tomic beat Chardy and Lopez, but still--he's playing really well. Next up Cilic--what a tournament he is having. First he takes out the young American Donald Young without much trouble, then a four setter against Giraldo and then yesterday (really today) a five setter against Isner. Only four breaks of serve in the entire match--two tie breakers, split and then 9 to 7 in the final set. The last five setter for Isner was 70-68, so Cilic must have been thanking his lucky stars that they have lights to play into the night at the Australian. With Isner's serve, if he hadn't been exhausted it could go a long, long time.

I'm glad to see that Roddick is still in it, but that Wawrinka is no cake walk and Fed is the prize, so I don't see him past the quarters. I'm also glad to see Verdasco into the round of 16--I really hope that I get to see his match with Berdych--great players, but tv doesn't always show their matches. I don't think that Almagro will give Djokovic any trouble and I expect that we will see a semi with Roger and Djok, but it is really not a foregone conclusion that Roger will win. Djokovic has had a pretty easy tournament so far, while Roger has had a bit more work to do.

On the other side, everyone says to watch out for the newcomer Milos Raonic from Canada. It's been a good long time since we've had a Canadian to root for. Nester only plays doubles (although I saw him at UCLA--pretty good player). He plays Ferrer who is seasoned so that might be it for Raonic. If not, then we get to see the new kid play Nadal--that could be fun. Soderling is making his way through and I don't count him out at all against Murray, and either one against Nadal should make a pretty good match. Of course, I want Nadal all the way, so we shall see.

So my pick is Nadal and Kim Clijsters--so sad that Stosur is out. I would have loved to root for her to go all the way--especially if Petrova had made it to the round of 16 to really challenge Kim. Petrova v. Stosur--what a match that would have been. And if Maria had somehow survived Asarenka and Wozniacki (doable, but unlikely), Maria Sharapova against Sam Stosur--oh my! Oh well, we still have Clijsters v. Zvonareva--just not the same and then maybe Kim v. Maria--again, just not the same. Good for Kimmie, but sad for me.

Aussie, Aussie, Aussie--I really like this tournament, even if it is a little loud.

It is Tennis Time

2011-01-17T09:44:00.000-08:00

People ask me, Why Tennis? I've never played. I don't go to see local "matches". I was surprised to learn the local high school has a tennis team and when I got a match pass to see an entire tournament at UCLA a few years ago, I saw the only other person I knew who was a tennis fan (in a very large stadium--the odds were outrageous). When I tell Adam that Nadal won, he is condescendingly fake excited for me.

Well the origin of my being a fan goes way back to when my Aunt Mary was a big fan and she gave me her tournament tickets one year. I went to see every women's match at the Virginia Slims open in Manhattan Beach. These were the days of Chris Everett and Martina Navratilova--very exciting for Women's Tennis. Of course, I loved John McEnroe and loved to hate Jimmy Connors, but as life got busy and full, I lost touch with tennis...until Nadal.

I fell in love with that guy. He is amazing. Life is sufficiently boring so that it didn't take too much effort to get right back in the thick of being a big time fan. Let me clarify, I've never played tennis. I don't know the first thing about how to play. I know the rules from watching and listening to the commentators (although a lot of the time I turn the sound off--you can only listen to how great Roger is for so long and then you get sick to your stomach). So to be fair, I don't love tennis--I love watching exciting tennis. Like the Spaniards last year--those matches were so spectacular. And Venus or Serena (Serena is out of the Australian Open--so sad).

Aunt Mary loved tennis and got the tennis channel. I spent many a Sunday afternoon watching tennis with her. Mom loved tennis too and her time share in Florida to which I was invited a few years coincided with Wimbledon, so watching the finals with Mom was fun. Dad only likes Maria Sharapova, but he does have a really cool feature on Direct tv that shows several matches at once all that you can pick and choose from--jealous, I am. Me, I have borrowed cable with a dvr. I will try to tape it and watch all I can, but I am probably going to watch less and less. There are babies to play with and five year olds really don't like tennis--they like Little Bear and Elmo. Does anyone want to know what Little Bear is up to these days--that Bear never gets any older, but I have noticed that Mother Bear and Father Bear are more playful and involved then most cartoon parents I've ever known. Really puts real life parents to shame--Mother Bear had to take the budget away from Father Bear and send him out to play with Little Bear. She got it done in no time and was able to join them. Little Bear wanted to make sure that hot chocolate and snow ball fights were in the budget and Mother Bear assured him they were. I might have to put in ear plugs--maybe tennis matches are on the radio...

Plans

2011-01-12T17:02:00.000-08:00

Did you ever have so much to do that you didn't know what to do first. Happens to me all the time, but here's the twist this year--I've had a horrendous cold, so I couldn't do anything. I've put off things for clients, I've put off making phone calls, I've put off just about everything. I'm still a little fuzzy, but I'm back to work and now I have to figure out what to do first (and second, etc.). I tried to make a list, but it was soooo long. So I'm just sitting here doing nothing. To be fair, I'm still fuzzy, but how long can I rely on that excuse.

I hear about snow storms and floods and wonder how people get their work done and then I have this cold that stops me in my tracks and it makes more sense.

I only have one meeting tomorrow and then three on Friday. I think I'm going to just prepare for those meetings and then the one on Monday and hope that everything else falls into place.

Everyone (well two people particularly put out by my absence) wanted to know if I'd had a flu shot. No, but I promised them, next year for sure. Also, I advised my nephew to eat regular meals and get enough sleep at night and then I though--gee, good advice for me too.

The good thing about having a terrible cold (and not wanting to eat much because it threatens to come back out) is that I haven't had any junk food this year. No potato chips. Zip. I did eat a little donut (and it came right back out at me) and today I ate a cupcake. It was really good, but I view it as a minor step backwards. When I was on my famous (in my mind anyway) diet, I didn't have any terrible colds, so it sounds like a good plan to avoid colds in the future. And I joined weight watchers (again). They have this new thing that fruits and vegetibles (except for potatoes and avacados) are free--no points--eat as much as you like. Not that I like any of them, but it sounds like a good plan. Monday I ate grapes instead of a snack. Ok, they were really sour and I didn't like them much, but I didn't eat chips, so it's a win. I also have some bananas at home waiting for a sweets craving (the cupcake caught me in the car, so ...). We'll see.

Every year my standard resolution is to get organized. Clear out the junk, clean, get organized. So in my head, that's still a good plan, but the reality is that I have to catch up to normal before I go getting lofty extraordinary plans like that. One meeting tomorrow and three on Friday. The rest will just have to fall into place, at least until I stop being so fuzzy.

End of the Year

2010-12-30T09:20:00.000-08:00

So each year, I do my taxes about six or seven times--dry runs, if you will, to see if I can shave anything off of my estimated tax payment that I make four times a year. If you think you hate seeing the number on your pay stub, try actually writing a very big check in April and then again just two months later in June. June is the month of my birthday, but for the past 15 or so years, it is my very poorest month of the year, because I don't have time to save up for my taxes. The government does this so that we don't have to make a payment in December--we have four months from September to January, so June has to bear the brunt. I think I am digressing.

So this year, I was very lazy. I didn't do my taxes at all until today. It is not that I haven't thought about it, but I was certain that I was underpaying my taxes, so there was no chance at trimming any off and I guess I was afraid to see how much I was going to owe. But today is the end of the year, so no more excuses. It's not so very bad--it's not good, mind you, but it's not so very bad.

This is a year in which I cut back a lot of expenses, including deductible expenses. That makes my taxes a little easier to figure out, but not nearly as much fun. I have a drawer that is just for deductible expense receipts. It is overflowing, so I was pleasantly surprised as I started to tally them up, until I looked at the dates. I hadn't cleaned out the drawer from last year. This years receipts were pitiful. Not a single .14 cent mile for charity. Pitiful.

Each morning as I plot my day, I try to find something to look forward to in the day. The other day when I plotted, I realized that it was the end of the year--I was so looking forward to the end of the year accountings that I do. But when I got into the office, I realized that taxes were more important than my end of the year accountings. That was almost as depressing as donuts (which, while I like them, I just don't eat them any more on principle) instead of chocolate chip cookies (which I love and no principle stands a change against) as the Friday goodies. Now that I have done the tax calculation, I just can't get excited about the accountings anymore. Math is not my friend. I'm mad at Math.

Existentially, as I get older, I realize that more and more of our everyday ups and downs are not logical, they are the ooze out of our subconscious morass--molasses if you will. Nope, no more math for me today. Except my banking. It is the end of the year. And maybe a little accounting on a report for a client--I've been promising and it is really fun. Ok, maybe I'll just take a peek at the accountings--they are chocolate chip afterall.

How Do You Say

2010-12-20T12:17:00.000-08:00

So Blockbusters is right next door to my favorite pizza place and I only get a cheese pizza which is either too popular or too unpopular, because they never have one already made and I am told there will be a wait. Luckily, I love shopping at blockbusters which always has a sale of three to five dvds for $20. I go through the tapes on the table, like I am looking for the bargains in a basement sale. When I was a teenager, one of my first jobs (for like a day and a half) was at a shoe store. They had large tables of shoes just thrown up there by size (a table for each size), so if people looked at one shoe and then it got tossed back on the pile, it got separated from the other shoe. I spent my time working on the floor, by helping people painstakenly go through the table shoe by shoe looking for the mate in the correct size (sometimes shoes got tossed on the wrong size table). Looking through all the tapes on the tables at blockbusters reminds me of that feeling of looking for gold in garbage.

So pizza is pretty cheap and my diet is pretty much in the crapper, so I'm eating a lot more pizza and I've already purchased all the movies that I want (and then a bunch--I have so many movies that I cannot work up the enthusiasm to even watch now that I own them). So I saw a movie I really like, but that I probably won't watch again. But I really like that movie and I know just the person, who will love it. So I bought it. Now I know what you are thinking--danger, danger, danger Will Robinson. Giving someone a movie or a book and telling them they will like it is the kiss of death, the black mark, the guarantee that they will never read or watch it. Well not other people of course--they respect and admire my opinion, but ME. It doesn't matter how much I like or respect the person who makes such a recomendation to me--kiss of death. So how can I expect anyone else to take a recomendation from me? I shouldn't. It should be against my own personal law or code of conduct. But... it is such a good movie. They will really, really like it.

Anyway, the movie sat on my shelf for months and then over a year. I never would do that to the person I was thinking of--I would never ruin such a perfectly wonderful movie for them. I suggested that they would like the movie and then concienciously shut up about it. About six months later, in a germane conversation, I let the recomendation come up once again in inoculous conversation and then dropped it, secretly sending out mental messages "see it--you will love it soooo much."

And then I was talking to someone who loves movies just as much as me. She's much younger and there are so many many movies that she hasn't seen. My all time favorite movie that she will absolutely adore was on sale at blockbuster and as I bought it KNOWING that I was violating my core personal law and code of conduct and KNOWING that I was going to leave this perfectly wonderful movie on my shelf for months and years just like the other one, I handed over my credit card.

So it is secret santa time of year. I'm broke and need to look around and come up with a gift for a party. There they are: two perfectly wonderful movies--unopened, new even (it was a really good sale at blockbuster--these were not even previously viewed). I found a Christmas gift bag (brand new) in my office drawer (I have no idea why it was there) and I have tissue paper in my craft drawer (probably enough to last one or two more Christmases). So I put together the gift. The time for the party arrived. My gift bag represented well. It was picked early and picked by someone I knew would love these movies. I felt like Rudolph taking Santa to the Island of Misfit Toys--putting the perfect gift with the perfect person. The joy, the satisfaction....was short lived. She touted these movies to every stealing santa and I stole them to make her happy.

I forced myself to give the first movie to the person I had originally purchased it for and tried to be offhand and casual about it. I don't think he was fooled, but I may be reading much more understanding into his lukewarm reception of the gift than was there. I gave myself a pep talk--hadn't I watched Shawshank Redemption even though I was sure I would never like a prison movie--wasn't it the most wonderful movie of all times. Didn't I overcome my prejudice and watch American Project X (not sure I got that title right) even though that actor is scary as hell (of course I didn't watch it until after I watched Fight Club--another OMG I never thought I would watch that movie) and liked it and was a better person for having seen it? This hard and fast personal law and code of conduct should be a suggestion--a policy--a rule that can be broken rather than letting perfectly wonderful movies go to waste up on my shelf.

The other movie is going to be a Christmas present and I really hope she likes it. I will probably have to live with the fact that I may never know. It is a far far greater thing...yeah, well, anyway.

P.S. Heard two good jokes and I don't want to forget them: Lines heard in a Book Store "My daugher really likes that writer Ann Frank--does she have any other books out?" and "Where is that 'A Christmas Carol?' That was one of Shakespear's best."

I Love It When a Plan Comes Together

2010-12-15T13:21:00.000-08:00

So I am lukewarm about the Office Christmas party this year. It is at a place that I know I don't like anything on the menu. I've been to 20 years worth of luncheons explaining my ridiculous palate. Last year I sat in the back and fending off--"look they have steak, you like steak" and my personal favorite "no, we only have diet pepsi". I did not "win" the target gift card in the gift exchange (I think I got starbuck or worse, a set of coco mugs--that might have been two years ago). One co-worker smugly explained that she refused to participate in the gift exchange, because she took that money and donated it to her church. Oh and by the way, she continued, why didn't I also do that? Only a couple people ever drink at these things and so only a couple of people get very jolly. [I mean, really, if you go to a bar where a lot of people drink, then you don't have to and it is easy to get swept up in the jollyness of it all, but if only two people out of 20 take a drink, then not so simple to whip up jollyness, but I digress.]

One year, I took my department separately out to my favorite prime rib place. It was lovely (and very expensive). Another year, just my department went to a slighly less expensive prime rib place and well, our jollyness was a few notches below the first place. So two years ago, I decided that our department "party" would be a deli plate at the office with games. No one, I mean no one (not even me) wanted to be there. Do you know how hard it is to generate jollyness when no one wants to be there. Anyway, department holiday parties are a big flop, so now we only have an office party for the whole office--with a gift exchange--a stealing santa gift exchange.

The year we started the stealing santa gift exchange, we were supposed to exchange a Christmas ornament. Never mind that it is not politically correct to be all Catholic, all the time (in my head anyway--the managing partner is Catholic and the rest of us can just live with it.) Anyhoo, no one liked the ornaments (and lets face it I'm the only one who even knows the managing partner is Catholic, so everyone else probably just assumed we would want to be more politically correct. John is a silent, pondering kind of guy, so mostly he just sits back, looking comtemplative and people assume they know what he wants and they do it and it is usually fine.)

Soon the gift exchange became white elephant mixed with really expensive stuff. Not fair by a mile. Then we tried just gift cards--also strangly, no fun. $19.95 gift certificate from the dollar store sounds funny, but it really isn't. So we plod along and here we are. For the last couple of years the best gift is the super large stuffed animal (Caitlyn would have loved it) or the target gift card. I never got any of them. I was planning on getting $20 gift card to itunes, because Vons is supposed to have a sale, four $10 gift cards for $34--such a deal--except Vons doesn't have a four pack of $10 gift cards--they have a three pack or a ten pack or $25 card--no four packs. I thought I misheard the commercial, but sure enough it was on again. THEN the office manager sent out an e-mail, remember that the gift exchange is $25. Crap. I am so broke this year. Even $20 at itunes is pretty over the top. Games are only $1.99. When I didn't know how to text message a few years back, we didn't have anyone young enough who knew. If I can't use the gift cards, what makes me think anyone else can? $25 ugh.

But I don't want to be a party pooper--I want to spread jolly--I want to lead the jolly parade. This is Christmas--be of good cheer--ho, ho, ho. So ok, no one likes games--I created a firm trivia game. It is fun and silly and no one will have time to tell me how much I'll like the green thing with funny looking spikes on it, if I would just try it. So the trivia game is already written. I have to go to the party. I could give $25 to charity, but I really don't want to give Ms. Smug, the cosmic satisfaction (although I did just get a calender from St Vincent de Paul--Meals on Wheels with an envelope each month--that sounds like a great New Years resolution--I can do that).

So just when I thought I was painted into the corner of running out to target to buy a $25 gift certificate that I will never win in the gift exchange, someone sent me two bottles of wine. It is a christmas gift from an attorney that I refer cases that I can't take (for whatever reason). It has been a few years since I got one of those (the recession and all), so I really wasn't expecting it. The receptionist was very jeolous and right before I could say--you take it, I don't drink wine, she said, now you have your gift for the gift exchange.

I love it when a plan comes together. (Great line from the A-Team--I have got to rent that movie). Merry, Merry Christmas Janet.

Cloudy With A Chance of Rain

2010-11-23T11:52:00.000-08:00

The clouds are really beautiful outside my window at the office. I'm on the ninth story looking out over mountains and a very large building with a parking lot, but at least half my view is mountains and large beautiful clouds.

I used to take pictures of sunsets. A lot of pictures of sunsets. I used to drive to the beach on purpose to take pictures of sunsets. I never got it right. I liked them and all, but I never got that great picture that I was shooting for. And it always made me mad to have a power line in a picture of nature. I was upset that I could never find unspoiled nature (like on tv--then I wised up and realized that on tv, they just erase the stuff that spoils the picture).

The shadows of the clouds on the mountains is just lovely, but I could never take a picture of it and do it justice. Sometimes you just have to live in the moment and understand that all you will take is the memory of the impression that it made.

The sky behind the clouds is really blue--that deep blue that surprises you. I saw a car that color blue this morning and thought--how come when ever I go to buy a car, they never offer it in that color blue. I mean, I'm lucky my car is grey. It was the only grey one. All the rest were white and black--both awful colors on a car (no offense to people with black or white cars--just my opinion for myself).

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep..."

Cruel and Unusual Punishment

2010-11-22T09:15:00.000-08:00

I hate to clean. Really. Surprise, surprise, surprise. So taking my entire Saturday to clean the entire day (with a few brief respites for overeating junk food to comfort me), took a lot. And I'm not any good at it. I was scrubbing the stove and the black stuff will not come off. I got most of the grease off, but that black stuff. The first few pieces that I dryed with a towel--nothing came off on the towel, but by the last few pieces, well, let's just say that my arm got tired and maybe I didn't scrubb the last one as well as the first one. And I couldn't see. I almost had to go get my reading glasses to clean the dishes, but towels are washable, so whatever I missed, the towel caught.

So to say that after nine hours of work, that I had only scratched the surface, is putting it kindly. I could tell the difference, having mucked in the junk, but any outsider would still vote my house as the messiest (dirtiest) house in the country. So having been relieved of any duty to provide a trip to Disneyland, I received an opportunity to have Berna (our housecleaner that I can't afford anymore) come today. She's there right now. She would have done in 10 minutes, what it took me nine hours to do and she does it a ton better. So my nine hours of hard work was all for absolutely nothing. And I don't get to go to Disneyland.

The icing on this cake of punishment is that today is Caitlyn's birthday. Adam and I blew up a bunch of balloons, but we couldn't show them to Caitlyn before school (because Marisa was afraid that she'd throw a fit and not want to go to school--"school is boring," Caitlyn announced to me last week). So the balloons are hidden in my bedroom, which means that I will not have Berna clean my bedroom (because she is really efficient--those balloons would be toast).

No good deed goes unpunished, but this is cruel and unusual punishment. I don't want to go to Disneyland anymore, I just want to move away. Who needs Disneyland at Christmas, I've got my eye on a two bedroom, one bath with a garden courtyard, close to my office owned by a fellow in my Kiwanis club. There's a vacancy...

A Modest Proposal

2010-11-17T11:05:00.000-08:00

No, I didn't read the book (essay?), but I vaguely remember the concepts. Any hoo, all chilling connotations aside, I want to propose to the people living in my house a work day this Saturday to clean the house from end to end. The minimum benefit to me, is that having said it out loud, I will actually have to do it. The maximum benefit is that perhaps I will actually gain some assistance from the other adults and we'll make some actual progress. At a minimum, I intend to deliver a clean kitchen to our Thanksgiving Day chef, Adrienne. She (unrealistically in my opinion) also wishes for a dining room table big enough to fit all of us (we're 10 including babies and significant others), so a clean house may help facilitate that wish as well.

I also want to invite my family to go to Disneyland at Christmas. I was (crazy unrealistically) hoping to get Melody and Lynn (and even more crazy Jon--what are you working three jobs?) to come sometime during December to join us, but I am assured that I must wait until next February at a minimum for a visit (can you say Vegas for Megan's birthday? Legoland for Kathy's birthday? These are wonderful phrases--try them out). P.S. I can't actually pay for any of this, but I am willing to put it on my credit card and accept small monthly payments.

So I am down to my last $500 of emergency money. I was going to try to forget all about it just in case my car broke down or I was otherwise caught in a torrential downpour, but Christmas at Disneyland is just a roaring inferno in my pocket. My proposal is that I will take Megan (whom I fully expect to help clean the house) and Caitlyn (who I am assured will not be there to be in the way of cleaning the house) and Marisa (who I am going to ask to be in charge of all logistics and cleaning on Thanksgiving, since she has to work on Saturday--clean the house day, and maybe assist in the evening if we are still going that long) and Chris (there are a couple of heavy things that Chris can move, but maybe he'd just like to buy his own ticket, because we'd hate to go without him, but I can't see him taking any time off from his real job to help me clean my house) to Disneyland for helping me clean my house.

I want Adrienne to help clean the house too and if she wants to go to Disneyland with Caity bear, that would be cool, but it would not be cool to go to Disneyland with Aunt Kathy, Mommy, Daddy Chris and Grandma--too many cooks. And Adrienne has made it pretty clear that she has no interest in Disneyland (with me anyway--and again, too many indian chiefs--I get it). So if Adrienne would take babysitting duty for part of the day and Mary Lou agreed to babysitting duty for part of the day, then Ris and Chris could enjoy themselves at Disneyland.

At Disneyland, I thought that I would go off with Megan in the morning and do stuff that we can't do with Caitlyn (Space Mountain and Soaring over California (can Caitlyn do that?)) while Mommy and Daddy Chris do fun things with Caitlyn during her best behavior period of the day. Then in the afternoon when Caitlyn starts to go down the whining hill, Megan, Ris and Chris can go off and enjoy the rest of the day, while Aunt Kathy spoils Caitlyn (very slightly--I'm out of money) and takes her home early. Sounds like a pretty fantabulous day in my head. [Megan, they decorate Its a Small World all in Christmas attire--it is so cool.]

So $101 to Adrienne for helping with cleaning day and $101 to Mary Lou for babysitting the twins while we go to Disneyland.

[Ok, I know my math doesn't add up, but I can also use my credit card and make small monthly payments. And I also know that I have completely left Adam out of this equation. He and I have a special arrangement (in my head), I expect him to be my slave and do anything I tell him with no thought of remuneration and he expects to be completely spoiled by me and get everything for free. It's very symbiotic.]

Hey, if Taj wants to fix the dishwasher and the garage door, I can probably squeeze another $101 for him (and if Adrienne does want to take Caitlyn to Disneyland, I can probably get Caitlyn a two day ticket and different cooks can go different days. Yes, Megan, if it is ok with Adrienne and Taj, I can probably get you a two day ticket too.)

I am feeling very Olympic today. I don't know if it is the anticipation of Disneyland at Christmas or a clean house. Yes, Disneyland--definitely. As Nicie would point out, looking at my hot mess, I sure don't care enough about cleaning. I just like the results. I want to already know how to play the piano, I don't want to actually practice.

So, any takers? [I'm looking at you, Gordon. Hey, maybe a clean house is as big a thrill as Disneyland. When I just thought of Gordon coming to my house--and cleaning it from end to end--what a rush. He might even put up the Christmas tree. Oh, now you have to come and visit us. You know you love Christmas at Disneyland and our house is going to be a mess again on the day after Thanksgiving...]

Too Old for Advice

2010-11-05T09:37:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to read. Megan suggested that I go to the library. How do you explain to someone just starting out (to whom this is actually good advice), that you've been there, seen the movie, taken the test, failed and moved on accepting your personal limitations without somehow crushing the dream of independent adulthood and painting a large L on your forehead.

It is probably easier to just go to the library and try, try, try again. Free is a very good incentive when used appropriately.

P.S. I'm happy to pay the fines--I like contributing, but buying the book in paperback (or on sale--I have to have what I have to have) is cheaper though not in the long run or in the larger sceme of things. But really, it takes one day to read it and 10 weeks to remember to return it--it is like paying five dollars for a bag of chips. I mean I know I want to stop at the 3.5 ounces, but I'm not paying a dollar for a small bag, when the bag five times bigger is less money. I know I'm eating the whole bag that is five times bigger and I know that it costs two dollars and fifty cents more that I could have saved, but I'm not paying five times too much. I know--big L.

In my defense, I always believe that I'm not going to eat the whole bag and I often do take two meals to eat the whole bag. Further, one time I actually weighted out one ounce bags and as I recall, the first two little baggies were perfectly wonderful (but then I threw the rest of them away because they got stale and I really had a complex about wasting chips, so I try not to think about it.) Where on earth was I? I mean I know that it is Friday and all, so I'm probably going to buy a nice big bag of chips, but I have nothing to read, so it is kind of a waste. A good book and a bag of chips--any people wonder their whole lives over the meaning of life--duh.

Wild Weather

2010-09-30T10:57:00.000-07:00

Thanks, Erika--here is a picture from my phone that I took at the airport yesterday in Burbank. A double rainbow (the second one didn't come out very good). Very rare. But that wasn't even the news. I got off the plane to this view and then all of a sudden, there were big fat rain drops coming down--in California--in September--in 100 degree heat. Still not the news. Then there was lighting and thunder. We never have thunder and lighting. Ok, never is a long time--a couple of times we've had thunder and lighting, in the middle of the night, in the Winter--maybe five times IN THE PAST THIRTY YEARS! Still not the news. It went on for over an hour--the big rain cloud just sat there over Burbank and my part of Glendale for over an hour. It rained a bit--never very long--but there was more lighting and thunder. And there were traffic helicopters flying around--I mean aren't they afraid they'll get hit by the lightning? Perhaps it is so rare, that they don't even know to get out of the sky in a lightning storm.

Any way, it smelled just like Michigan in July--hot, hot weather, big fat rain drops, gorgeous rainbow. Adrienne was very bummed that she missed it. She was beating the heat in a movie. Adam missed it too--he was in San Francisco. I almost missed it, but I got back to town just in time. It's a good thing I got a picture--I sure would never have believed it.

Uncle John's last post was about how cold it was in Southern California a few weeks ago and then this week we have record heat and now a rainbow. This is earthquake weather, that's what this is. [Let me digress to say that no one can really predict earthquakes, but it is freaky weird to be in an earthquake and so as humans, we look for clues to help us cope. My personal theory (probably with no back up, because it's not like I kept actual records) is that when it is really cold and then really hot or vise versa, we're going to have an earthquake. I am completely willing to believe that the movement of the rocks at the earth's core can be affected by the weather at the surface even though writing this out loud sounds extremely silly. So if there is an earthquake--I'm going to say Ah Ha! And if there is no earthquake... well, it was one heck of a wild weather day yesterday. Something for the record books.]

Busted

2010-09-22T10:13:00.000-07:00

So when I left you, we were still in the throws of the US Open Tennis. The finals were rained out on Sunday, so they were put over until Monday at 4. Which I successfully translated to 1 p.m. pacific time. There was no mention of it on the tv directory and I wasn't sure how long it would go or if my super duper dvr would misinterpret my desire to tape some soap opera that started at 1 with really wanting that show in the middle of the night when it was rescheduled to. Oye.

So I made sure to come home from work at 1 p.m. to watch it in person and make sure that my dvr was taping. I couldn't just stay home the whole afternoon--I wanted to, of course, but I was really, really busy at work, so no. Not an option. Really, I'm just going to make sure it's taping and get right back to work. It was a great plan.

I'm always late for everything. Some people say that this is because I just don't care enough about other people to be on time. Some people say that this is a method to increase my importance because other people are forced to wait for ME, because I am so important. Some people (the ones I actually listen to) say that I just try to do too many things and chronically underestimate how long things take in my quest to be all and make every moment count. Whatever the reason, I was mindful that I am always late and I didn't want to be late for tennis. So I was of course running late (and there wasn't even anyone waiting for me, critics..) so I was pushing every light and generally rushing. I made it to the back door at exactly (or within a few minutes anyway) at 1:00 p.m.. I was ready to rush in the back door and proceed directly to my sitting room and grab the remote and turn on the tennis.

Now let me just digress a minute to tell you that I always fast forward the tape over the part where the tennis players are waiting in the hallway and the press ask them a few questions before they come out, even though, once in a commercial John McEnroe was asked what does he think about before the big match and his answer was "I hope my socks match." I love that, but anyway, I don't want to see that little pre-game interview. I don't want to know that English is not their first language. I don't want to see them warm up before the game. Sure, if they are rude to each other in the warm up, that's a sign and I'll be watching for fireworks, but generally, they are standoffishly cordial, because let's face it, they are professionals and they make a lot of money--it's not wrestling. Where was I--oh, yes. I do not watch the beginning. There was really no reason to rush. The match doesn't really start at the beginning--most of the time it takes at least 15 to 20 minutes to actually start. So there was no reason to be there exactly at 1 p.m.. And yet, I was freakishly motivated and I really tried to be there at 1 p.m. exactly.

So I opened the back door. The back door opens to the kitchen and right inside the kitchen on the right is the kitchen sink. Our dishwasher died earlier in the week, so seven people who can't pick up a plate to save their lives are suddenly expected to hand wash their own dishes. These thoughts are going through my mind as the sight before me begins to register. There was water gushing--major waterfall action--from under the sink. There was a large puddle in front of the sink and I could see at the other end of the room, a stream of water was just starting to make its way into the dining room. I immediately called Dad to ask how to turn off the water.

Let me digress again. I'm over 50 years old. I've been a homeowner for many years. I've lived in this particular house for over 10 years. I am in charge of the water filter under the sink. I've changed the filters many many times and every time I call my Dad to ask him how to turn off the water. It's not like there aren't very distinctive knobs right there where they always are every time I go under the sink. So the fact is I do know how to turn off the water, but for some reason I have to make that call, every single time. This time was no exception, except that water was gushing out and holding the phone and sloshing in there in my good shoes and my suit coat and trying to turn off the water while Dad is answering the phone, the irony of my gut reaction to call was large on my brain.

I turned off the water, said good-bye to Dad and looked at the damage. Towels--I was going to need a lot of towels. I hated to use my towels. Our kitchen floor is disgusting. Oh well, I pulled out my three towels. That wasn't enough. So I looked around for more towels--not an easy task. We have many adults and no towels, so when someone gets a towel, they tend to hoard it. I managed to locate two more towels. Only a little water went into the other room and the towel seemed to do the job. So I'm looking at all the water in the kitchen and all the towels and then I realized, my tennis was starting.

So I went to watch tennis. This is a few weeks later, but I have to stop here and say--Djokovic, oh my! I have such a new found respect for him. He played astoundingly well. I love Nadal and of course I wanted him to win, but I must admit there were several times that I was cheering for Djokovic too. Luckily they had a rain delay so that I could go back to work, because once the match started, I really couldn't leave.

And if I had left, then first I would have to deal with the kitchen, so part of it might have been procrastinating that ordeal--maybe.

No one was home. A house full of adults and none of them with regular jobs with regular hours and not a single person was home for the waterfall event. And it must have started very shortly before I got home, because it had only just started to go in the next room. Talk about lucky. What are the odds. I never come home at lunch--the only reason I was there was because it rained in New York on Sunday and I don't trust my new dvr. So the fortuitousness of my discovery is not lost on me. However, I have no dishwasher and now I have no water in the kitchen sink. This could get really, really ugly, really, really fast.

So Adam came home and I corralled him into helping me. He said, "What am I supposed to do?" and I lamented that my fantasy that guys just know this stuff that escapes me blew up in my brain. Go under the sink and just start turning knobs until the kitchen sink works and we find where the leak is. So he turned a knob and water gushed out of the water filter. We looked around and called Dad again. He told us there should be a knob before the hook up to the water filter and there was. Adam turned it on--no water gushing leak and the water came on in the sink. Mission accomplished. I told Adam to take the wet towels outside and hang them up. He grimaced and I rejoiced the I didn't have to do it. So Adam threw them on the ground outside. He does it half ass, so that I'll do it over. It's just a little dance that we dance. So I got him to throw the towels on the gate and we got out paper towel and got the last of the water up. I tried the hot water and it didn't work, but I went under the sink without thinking and turned the right knob for hot water. If I had thought about it, I'd have needed to call my Dad and make Adam turn all the knobs again.

So tennis was taping (luckily I saw a tiny blurb that said it was going over to espn2 after the rain delay and I set up everything on that channel for 8 hours to tape and luckily it worked). The water that I could see was dried. The kitchen sink worked. So I went back to work. I stayed away from twitter and facebook and the internet news and no one told me anything about the tennis match. I got back home around six or so and found the right taped program and settled in to watch the game--it was a very exciting match. At about five hours in, ON THE TAPE, they were saying if it went over a certain time, the coverage would switch to another channel, so that added to the drama. I didn't have another channel taped and I was too far behind to change now. Luckily, Nadal pulled it out in the forth set. I was very happy. I had had my full quota of drama that day.

The Spaniards, Oh My

2010-09-09T12:17:00.000-07:00

Oh politics, you have distracted me from my first love--Tennis! We have so much wonderful, delightful tennis. It is the US Open--the culmination of the tennis season--the hard court. The first disappointment was that Serena injured her foot and had to pull out. The second disappointment was that Berdych, who has been playing amazing all summer, lost in the first round--heart break. And then there was Baghdatis, who has lost weight and been a dynamo all summer--out in the first round. Mardy Fish, who has also been having a great summer, lasted until the round of 16, but then he met up with Djokovic and losing weight and being fit was no match for the skills of Djokovic. Roddick's loss in the second round was more difficult to accept and explain. I've never liked Tipsarevic--sure he's a very good player, but to beat Roddick? I'm nervous that Roddick just doesn't have deep enough skills to be great again. Isner made it to the third round, but again, I just didn't expect him to be able to beat Youzhny. The match went four sets, with one tie break to Isner, but Youzhny has the experience. Querrey did pretty well and I knew that Wawrinka was good, but his match with Querrey was so close and Wawrinka really took Murray out--that was surprising.

Still on the men's side, I have to say that I was pleasantly surprised and amazed at Monfils--what a dynamic player. He was a bit sketchy now and then, but so much energy and pizazz. Again, no match for the skills and experience of Djokovic, but he made it to the quarter finals--very impressive for Monfils. A few years ago, I thought he was almost finished. Now he seems like someone to continue to watch.

Federer, what can I say--he hasn't dropped a set. Soderling threw everything and the kitchen sink at Fed, and Roger made it look effortless to beat him. The style and grace that he plays with are not matched by any player I've ever seen play, ever. I don't know why I usually do not root for him. It must be his little frown and the fact that it just looks so easy for him. But I can't deny, he is an amazing player and though I'd really rather give the title to Nadal, I have to say that Roger is the best of all times.

And then there are the Spaniards! Oh MY! The Ferrer and Verdasco match was like something I've never seen before. I knew that I loved Nadal and that I particularly enjoyed the power and speed of his game, but I'd never seen two Spaniards play each other. Usually when I watch a match, I pick a side. I do have illogical favorites and I pick a side. BUT with every point in the Ferrer/Verdasco match I kept changing sides. They were both so magnificent. I was thrilled that Verdasco won and I was so sad that Ferrer lost--I would have been so thrilled if Ferrer had won and so very sad if Verdasco had lost. I can't ever remember watching a game in which I wanted them each to win so much. It was totally amazing. And then the Nadal/Lopez match--of course, I wanted Nadal, because my enemy is anyone playing Nadal, but Lopez was also a very dynamic player (outmatched like crazy, but very good). Next up for Nadal--Verdasco! Nadal should win. He is the better player. And Verdasco is coming off a very difficult five set match, but this game is going to be so fun to watch--An all Spanish quarter of the draw--talk about fireworks!

This year, I think Nadal has an excellent chance to finally win this thing, but Djokovic will either have to beat Federer (not totally impossible--not likely, but not impossible) or really make him work hard, because Roger is also playing very, very well and Nadal will need all the good luck we can muster to be able to pull it off. If Verdasco or Youzhny or incredibly Wawrinka beat Nadal before he has a chance at Roger, then I'm just going to cry. Nadal has made it through the rounds really well. It would be heartbreaking if he stumbled so close to the finish line.

On the Women's side, well, kind of quiet. Cibulkova came out of nowhere to get to the quarter finals. She is very short and full of power--a lot of fun to watch. My new favorite player is Caroline Wozniacki. Sharapova was playing quite impressively until she came to Caroline who just had more game. Caroline is the number one seed with Serena out and she had a very nice complete game. She doesn't crack under pressure and she has that understated grace that I see in Federrer--she really makes it look easy.

I was sorry to see Stosur take out Dementieva. Elena just cannot catch a break--she had match points, plural, but Sam never gave up for a second and she gritted her teeth and was just more tenacious than Elena in the end. The match ended after 1 a.m. in the morning in New York. Absolutely grueling. Then Stosur went up against Clijsters and I really thought that she might have the game to beat Kim, but in the end Kim's experience and overall game won the match. Stosur put up a great fight though.

Of course, I really like Venus and Kim Clijsters. They've been there before and had a pretty easy time through to the quarterfinals--each surviving a challenge (Venus met Schiavone--I do not like that woman--I have no idea why she rubs me the wrong way) and getting through to the Semi's. It is too bad that they meet in the semi's and not in the final.

Nothing but really great tennis for the next few days and then we're done until January. That's so long. But for tonight NADAL v. Verdasco--Oh my!

A Comment or Two or Four

2010-09-02T10:03:00.000-07:00

I tried to comment on my Uncle John's blog about James Lee, but my computer won't show me the word for the word verification.

So for my audience, let me set up what my Uncle John said (and remember I am paraphrasing through the glasses of my opinions): A few days ago, Uncle John posted something about what a crock global warming is and that it is based on flawed science with publicized errors and everyone should wake up and protest against environmentalists or some such stuff--remember I'm paraphrasing. Anderson gave a similar speech at Toastmasters and I was amazed, but I digress.

Then yesterday, Uncle John posted a picture of James Lee, the guy who took hostages at the Discovery Channel headquarters and was killed by police, saying that he was misguided by flawed global warming hype and it is a good thing that he didn't kill anyone. So here is my response:

I hope your last post didn't push him over the edge--it is kind of eerie that you just posted about global warming being a myth (most likely prompted by some report in the right wing radical conservative newscast that is called "fair and balanced")and then there is a radical on the other side to balance out the universe.

[Gee that sounds a little mean. Nothing personal, but I am really adverse to a lot of the opinions exressed as "news" on Fox news. There it is.]

My theory is that we liberals are just too easy going and accepting of McDonalds, so the radical among us must go to an extreme. Kind of like the conservatives and anti-abortion radicals who kill doctors. Many conservatives (lets call them the young and middle aged white guys) were complacent about abortion because, hey, less child support (or the women conservatives who were a little more true to "keep your government out of my body" then the rest). So the hard core conservatives had to get more and more radical to make some noise. I condemn the anti-abortion radicals who promote violence and kill doctors and judges and I condemn James Lee too.

But it is my fault. I should have responded to your last post, Uncle John, to show the world that your opinion is not the majority and it is not based on sound premises. [I am reminded about the debate over whether smoking caused cancer 30 or 40years ago.] Are you denying that the ice caps are melting? Because that is real and it will have real consequences. Do humans cause it? Look around. You don't need a bunch of studies to show you what you see with your own two eyes. Humans have a huge negative impact on the environment. The question is, can we live with the consequences? And who decides? Some countries are going to be adversely affected by other, bigger, stronger countries (U.S.). We have a bunch of science to address and solve a number of problems, but it takes resources and political will. You have one opinion and I have another opinion. But calling the whole debate of global warming garbage, because of a few errors and deliberately blinding yourself to truths you see with your own eyes, is not a responsible way to conduct political discourse. Neither is blowing up buildings or killing people. And neither is silent complacency: I should have called you out in your last post.

Lee did highlight something that I did not realize. I did see the Discovery Channel as an environmentally responsible outlet and yet I am well aware that the message can be shaped and shaded. We can call a War "Iraqi Freedom", when in fact we were unjustified provokers against a sovereign nation. [Do you want to talk about false data?] We get a free pass for this crime, because nobody in the whole world liked Sadam (including me, by the way--he took a gun and shot his political opponent in front of a sitting congress--he poisened an entire region of his country that he was supposed to lead--he attempted to kill Bush, Senior--digressing, sorry) and 9/11 bought us some free "look the other way" juice. [Am I the only person who has a nagging feeling that radical muslims had nothing to do with 9/11? Where's the gain? Follow the money is what the "watches too many crime dramas on tv" mind of mine says. But look at me digressing.]

Everyone needs to pay attention. It shouldn't take a violent radical act to provoke reasonable people to sit down and discuss things logically. Well as close to logical as two people with extremely different views can muster anyway.

Also, Uncle John, I disagree with your premise (in a comment on Uncle Marcel's blog) that government spending for NASA is good and government spending for the FDA is bad (again paraphrased from the perspective of my opinion). I don't know what kind of crystal ball you have that you apply to your food before you eat it, but I beleive that it was the Bush policies (with origins in the 70's and 80's of deregulation) of decimating governmental agencies that has led to the massive reports of salminella poisening from eggs. The FDA does not have sufficent resources to do the job we expect of it. I for one, want to strenghten the FDA, not weaken it. Necessity is the mother of invention--they will build a better mouse trap if they are forced to do so. But if we spread the investigators thinner and thinner, business will cut costs however they can, and safety will take a back seat to profit. I just don't trust that those corporate farms have a management team that watches Glen Beck's 9/12morals and values to live by (which by the way look very similar to these posters at the Christian Science organization near my office--I think it is based on that guy, E.Ron Hubbard or something like that. I always liked those posters and I support values too without becoming a brainwashed follower--oops, I'm digressing.)

I hate getting into political debates because everyone gets so emotionally involved in their opinion (me included). I think that the media and politicians foster that on purpose. I am going to use florecent light bulbs and drive a hybrid and try to conserve water and try to limit my footprint on this planet and vote for solutions that address the issues of the stress that humans bring to the planet at the expense of other humans (I'm just not an animal person--I cannot get excited about endangered species--I've tried, but there it is) whether the temperature was one or two degrees more or less in the data from a study on global warming or not. But I will most likely keep eating at McDonalds. All I can do is try. And I suspect Uncle John that you too use florecent bulbs and do not waste gas and are not an irresponsible global citizen. Every time we actually chat, I feel that we are very similar, but I guess we have really stayed away from politics in person. Ah, the luxury of the internet. The next time I see you in person (and you me), I hope that we will smile and silently agree not to discuss politics in person. On the other hand, please comment--a robust and open debate on political issues is the very foundation of our great country.

Humorous Speech Contest Entry

2010-08-31T17:15:00.001-07:00

I hate camping.

Get back to nature? Nature is for the birds. I grew up in Southwest Detroit--the only "nature" that we had was squirrels and those things are mean. We knew darn well to stay away from "nature." But we were tough. We grew up in the inner city. Still we had indoor plumbing--why would anyone intentionally give that up?

But my parents dragged us all on a camping trip at least once a year. One time we went in late fall. What on earth were they thinking--there was frost on the ground. The zipper to the tent was frozen shut--ridiculous.

We did get to see Bears though. Yup--Bears--Plural--many bears. We weren't even scared. We heard all the horror stories about people being attacked by bears. One guy lost an arm when a bear bit it off, we were told. And so, what does my Dad do? He askes the rangers where can we go to see Bears. The City Dump. That's right, we went to the City Dump after dark and lined up with about 10 other cars shining their headlights on all the bears at that garbage buffet.

So when I became an adult, I was sure that my camping days were over. Not so.

I became a Girl Scout leader and soon--way too soon--I was hoodwinked into camping. My first camping trip was with very young girls, six to eight year olds, but actually I had more parents than girls on the trip. So there I was with about 20 girls and more than 20 adults. It should have been so easy, right? Wrong. I did all the worrying and work, while the parents were on vacation.

The camp had outdoor bunk beds so that you slept out under the stars, with the bugs and the mice and the wild animals. Oh joy. For some reason I kept having nightmares that one of the little girls was going to fall out of her bunk and roll down the hill in the middle of the night. Yeah, great vacation.

Oh and no indoor plumbing--did I mention that little gem about camping.

On another camping trip with older girls, I again somehow managed to have as many adults as girls and yet, I didn't sit down the whole weekend. Oh, I brought a chair, but everytime I went to sit down, some other parent had their butt in my chair. Ugh. When they asked the girls their favorite part of the weekend at the end of the trip, my girls said sleeping in a tent. My response was, we can do that in my back yard--what the heck are we out here for.

Finally, finally, finally, when my niece was finished with her girl scout career, I thought, no more camping, no more camping.

BUT, I was a trainer for other leaders and guess which area had the greatest shortage of trainers: Camping Skills.

So I went camping again and I said "Yummm" when I tasted the gooey, disgusting chocolate cake that we baked in the peel of a hollowed out orange in a cardboard box. I thought, I'd rather eat a twinkie that tastes like plastic, but I said "Yumm." It was a cake that we cooked in a card board box.

And the last time that I went to the restroom in a public toilet at a campground, which is only mildly a step up from a hole (full of you know what) dug in the ground, I thought to myself just as dramatically as Scarlott O'Hare--never again, as God is my witness, never again. Famous last words.

My adorable baby niece is four years old and she started kindergarden this week. Next year she'll be old enough for Brownies--I know that she'll be a girl scout. And she has a younger sister. You know that they will need a girl scout leader.

It is cake that you make in a cardboard box--I am completely defenseless, but oh, oh, oh, I hate camping.

Mean and Nasty

2010-08-26T10:49:00.001-07:00

This is a chant that Kevin, a very friendly little crocodile says when he is trying to be a "real" crocodile in one of Caitlyn's favorite shows (that I have seen way, way too many times) 64 Zoo Lane. Kevin is unsuccessful at being mean and nasty, but every once in a while when I have to put my tough face on for my job, I find myself chanting this in my head: mean and nasty, mean and nasty. It always makes me smile, so actually it is a little counter productive, but I digress.

I had Caitlyn all to myself for two evenings this week. The first evening, her grandmother (probably in response to my last blog about watching Caitlyn) had her repeat "no toys" before she transferred her into my care. Caitlyn was a doll and a half and we had a wonderful time. But I wanted to buy her legos. I have long thought this is a kid who should have legos and yet that will not be a toy she will get because she has a baby brother and sister who will try to eat them. I wanted to get her a lego set that would stay just in my room. But how to buy her a toy, after Grandma told her (and she agreed) "no toys". That law school stuff really pays off. Caitlyn had helped Grandma clean the kitchen, so I told Caitlyn that I was "paying" her a salary with a toy for cleaning the kitchen. I had to explain it a few times and she never really understood the word "salary", but when we got home and Grandma's eyes got big and scary, Caitlyn explained it to Grandma that this was for cleaning the kitchen. And let's face it Aunt Kathy realy doesn't care what Grandma says, but I digress.

The next evening, Caitlyn pointed out very quickly that she had helped clean the kitchen again and therefore expected a toy. Hmmm, I knew there would be a catch. But once again, I have wanted to buy Caitlyn a book for a while and this would be a great opportunity. I'm getting pretty tired of Dr. Suess--no offence Dr. Suess, but that Wacky Wednesday is for the birds and if I have to read that which-what-who guy again, I'm going to want to scream. I like Madeline--and so, when Caitlyn made a bee line for the toys and I kept steering her to the books, the Madeline book had a little Madeline doll with it. How perfect is that. By now, Grandma knew her dirty looks were ineffective, but when Marisa got home she wrote in big letters on the fridge "NO MORE TOYS" and Adam said, that's for you Aunt Kathy. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

The next morning, Caity was in my room and she went to a lot of trouble to try to make my bed. She even said, how's this, is this good? Luckily I distracted her by letting her jump on the bed, because for a nervous minute or so, I thought she was going to demand her "salary". And we all know how bad I am at mean and nasty.

Clean Garage

2010-08-20T13:46:00.000-07:00

Remember a long, long time ago, I wrote a blog about cleaning out my garage as my Christmas present to myself. That was a lovely Christmas present to myself. This is much better.

I needed to hire Jose to come and move some furniture to get Megan's room ready for her. It seemed like such a waste to make him hire a guy for the day just to move a few pieces of furniture, so I looked around to see what else I could ask him to do. We have a lot of old furniture and stuff in the back yard and on the back porch--I mean we really do resemble what I think of as hillbillys. The only thing we are missing is an old car on the front lawn, but I think Glendale would kick us out for that. Anyway, I asked Jose to get rid of all the broken down stuff cloging up the back yard. While walking through the back yard, I saw a very large branch from the tree had fallen over, so I said, can you clean that up? Oh sure, Jose says, smiling. Then we walk through the garage and I pulled out a box that had old tents and tarps from my camping days--a hot mess as Miss Nicey would say. "That's garbage," I said. "Can you take care of that and maybe store the boxes a little better--Clean the place up a little?" "Oh sure," says Jose smiling.

So I left for a little while and when I came back, all the furniture in the house that I wanted moved, was moved. And Jose had even swept as he went, so it looked better than before. Jose was already started on the back yard and the green trash can was full of branches and trimmings. His guy was up on a ladder doing more trimming. I got them some lunch and hung around to eat my lunch. I'm sure I wasn't home for more than an hour. When I went out to say good-bye, I noticed Jose in the garage--SWEEPING. He was really truly cleaning the garage. My heart began to race--oh my, I'm going to have a clean garage again. And I didn't have to clean it myself. This is the best Christmas ever!

Movie Night

2010-08-19T10:29:00.000-07:00

So back when I was involved in way too many different clubs and organizations, I didn't have a single free night to call my own. Between ABWA, PTA, Girl Scouts, Kiwanis, YW, etc., etc., I had no free time. I've been cutting back significantly on my extracuricular activities and now I have a few nights a week that I can legitimately call my own. So I made Monday night, my Monday movie night. I've seen a lot of movies in the past year or so--some really good and some really, really bad. When I see a bad movie, it is a little harder to part with my money the following week to see another movie. When I see a really good movie, I am tempted to go to the movies more than once a week and have therefore seen more than my fair share of bad movies. Math, it's everywhere.

There are only a few movies that I have gone to see twice in the theater and that is usually to be social and to go see something that other people want to see or would like. But I can't say that I've ever gone to see a movie that I didn't like twice--I'm just not that social.

So I have been looking forward to seeing "Eat, Pray, Love" after reading the book. I tried not to get my expectations up too high, because that is a sure way to ruin it. The movie was very good--a little slow, but good. There were a few shortcuts from the book and I have to say knowing the back story made the movie better. But there was also a few new things in the movie that I either didn't remember from the book or seeing them was a fresh experience. There was one scene in particular that I did not remember from the book and there didn't appear to be anything that could make it work and then just the right gesture, just the right small smile made all the difference. That Julie Roberts is a much better actress than I've ever given her credit for. The screenplay writers are to be commended--good job.

There are a few more movies out and coming out that I am looking forward to, but as I said, I try not to get my hopes up--that is a sure way to be disappointed. And now, the first day of the work week that gets a bad rap, holds a little bit of magical expectation for me. I'm out of money so I'm trying to figure out how to economize and keep Monday Movie Night. Watching the dvd or on tv just wouldn't be the same.

Flexibility

2010-08-10T10:35:00.000-07:00

That's our theme for toastmasters tonight and I am the toastmaster. For the uninitiated, that is like the master of ceremonies. I will introduce the theme, introduce the speakers and generally keep the meeting moving. So I will need to say a few words about flexibility.

Roll with the punches used to be a popular phrase, but I think it fell out of favor in this no tolerance for domestic violence age. Life in the fast lane is one of my favorite phrases, but it doesn't really mean flexible--it is more, keep up, get moving, go, go, go.

When I was younger than I am now, I believed that I was the picture of flexibility. I could accommodate change easily and a change in plans was no big deal. So I was going to open the meeting with something along the lines of how very flexible I am. I've always been a problem solver--think outside the box--very flexible. But when I searched for concrete examples, I realized that I am no longer very flexible. In fact, I have to admit that I am not flexible at all. Little things like drinking diet coke from a can. I don't like to do it and now my car is littered with cups that have held ice for the short trip to my office. No ketchup, no problem--I won't eat. Too hot, too cold, good-bye. The gym playing the song Macharania--I just get up and leave. Hmmmm. Is this inflexible or stubborn about what I like and what I don't like? Is there a difference?

Physically, I am not flexible. Maybe I was a bit more flexible 60 pounds ago, but no more. Ethically, I'm not very flexible. I try to keep an open mind, but I'm rather a stickler for law and order. I want to be flexible regarding swearing. When I was younger I have a clear memory of believing that swearing was a perfectly acceptable manner of expression. Now it offends me. Go figure, old age.

Perhaps I am being too hard on myself. If a speaker doesn't show up, it is no big deal to simply adjust the line up and make adjustments. Other people grouse about the person who failed to keep their commitment, while I give them the benefit of the doubt, knowing that everyone has a lot of stuff on their plates, so that occasionally something has to give. If one argument isn't working (to a Judge or client), then it is no big deal to shift courses and make a new one. That's flexible. Don't put all your eggs in one basket--is that a flexibility slogan?

Ok, I still have nothing to say. It is going to be a quiet evening. That's flexible, right?

Tennis Channel

2010-08-02T11:27:00.000-07:00

How long have I wanted the Tennis Channel? Years, maybe a decade--has it even been around for a decade--I think so and I've wanted it ever since I first heard it existed. But my cable company said NO. Boo hoo.

Well I got a new cable company. They have the tennis channel. I swallowed my "HOW MUCH PER MONTH?" and said sign me up. The US Open Series is going on and the Series was at UCLA for the men and Stanford for the women this last weekend. A few years back, I went in person to the one at UCLA. The best part was seeing the Bryan brothers play doubles (and almost running into--literally--Nalbandian), but alas, the worst part was the sun. It was relentless. I would get there at 10 in the morning (having to leave my house by 9 a.m. to beat the traffic) and then the night matches sometimes lasted until after midnight. So I probably won't be going to too many more live matches in my lifetime. Therefore, the Tennis Channel seems like a really cool thing to have for someone who enjoys watching tennis from the comfort of her home.

So I turn on my new u-verse tv and there it is Maria Sharapova v. someone and I think how cool is this, but I'm a little troubled too. Why is Maria on the Tennis channel and two nobody guys are on espn2? Ha, I figured it out--I was watching espn2and the two nobody guys were being shown on the Tennis channel. Good call programing guys. That was Friday night. Saturday Murray at UCLA and Maria up at Stanford and they were both on espn2. Some match from Switzerland was on the Tennis channel. Hmmmmm. I guess it is not so bad to watch a match from Switzerland that looks like it is on clay. I knew both of the guys playing, but I was much more interested in the matches on espn2. Again, good call guys.

THEN it was the finals on Sunday--again Maria and Murray in their respective matches--again both on espn2.

The Bryan brothers were also playing in the doubles final at UCLA and if they won it would make them the all time winningest men's double team (Martina has the women's doubles locked up--good luck coming close Bryans). This is a big game. The Bryans lost the French and they lost Wimbledon, so this is not a lock by any means. And they are really fun to watch.

So what was the tennis channel showing--the Switzerland final. And you know what--that would have been fine. The Bryans know singles takes precedence over doubles and I know singles take precedence over doubles and a final match in men's singles is going to get top billing BUT the match in Switzerland was already over--I already knew the winner from the internet, so it has to be at least 9 hours ahead (France is 9 hours, so I'm sure Switzerland is a few more). This is a record for the Bryans! This is a big record in tennis! And the results of their match wasn't even on the internet where I could find it right away. Espn2 had them on as guests before the Murray v. Querrey match to talk about their win. They didn't even show any highlights. Querrey won by the way--I know you were all waiting for the results. Three sets--won the second set in a tie breaker after fighting off at least one match point by Murray. This is the first time Murray has come to LA. Not too hospitible actually. Whereas, this is Querrey's back yard. He had a bunch of his college buddies in the stands. They call themselves the Samaries--his name is Sam Querrey. I think I am digressing--oh yeah, dumb old tennis channel.

I think that I will probably have to actually go to the UCLA tournament next year in person. I think I owe that to the Bryan brothers. I'm going to need a really big hat.

Tantrum (Warts and All)

2010-07-30T12:08:00.000-07:00

Whenever I have Caitlyn to myself, I know going in that the excitement will be too much and that a meltdown is inevitable. I know this and yet I am surprised everytime.

I was recently asked to pick Caitlyn up from school and to take her to the day care. I was the chauffeur if you will. When Adam was three or four, I often had to take him to preschool in the morning. If you didn't get there by 9:20 (or some such random time), then the gate was locked and I had a toddler for the day at my office. It only happened once or twice and that's all it took for me to be on time, because there is nothing for a toddler to do at my office, and it is a long and miserable day for both of us, but look at me digressing.

So I know that my ability to drop off a four year old is not very good, but I also know that the consequences of not dropping the four year old off are dire, indeed. Then LIGHTBULB (that's a line from "Despicable Me"--what a cute movie), what if I kept Caitlyn and took her to see a movie--ha, what fun. No drop off drama, just fun, fun, fun. My kind of afternoon. In the back of my mind the alarm bells were going off--the excitement will be too much and a meltdown is inevitable, but I reasoned with myself--Self, how bad could it really be. She's four. I can certainly take a four year old down if I have to. So naive. Superpowers beware.

We went to see Toy Story. On the way to the movie (which is next to my office, which is upstairs from a Disney Store), Cait asked if we could go to the Disney Store--"just to look". I said, "No, we are in a hurry to get to the movie." She started to whine (but only half heartedly) that she didn't want to see a movie, she just wanted to go to the Disney Store. I was able to distract her (probably with candy or a drink or a promise of "later"), but all was well, we made it to the movie on time and she sat nicely drinking her "dr. pepper". [There was no dr. pepper, but that is all she wanted so I asked her to point it out. She pointed to coke, so I got a very small cup and put some coke in the small cup. She seriously and deliberately took a drink to test it and declared that indeed it was dr. pepper. See there Aunt Kathy was the obvious meaning of the look she graced me with.]

The scary parts of the movie were not scary to her and the touching moments completely escaped her four year old mind. She took away from the movie that there was a wonderful large stuffed animal (I think his name was Logo) and Woody and a girl Woody and Buzz Lightyear.

We still had an hour before we needed to go home and I had one more thing to pick up from my office. The Disney store was practically on the way and Caitlyn was eying every store at the mall for her next conquest. So, and I know what you are thinking--don't do it, don't go there, danger, danger, danger Will Robinson, but you had to see that cherub face light up with delight--yes, I was mush and we went to the Disney Store.

A year or so ago, at Disneyland, I purchased a Cinderella dress for Caitlyn at a cost of $80 or so--very pricey toy that she outgrew within days of the purchase. We went to a lot of trouble to make it bigger, but there is no further room for expansion and the dress has been hidden away to avoid world war III. Gone but not forgotten is the title of this saga. Caitlyn wants that ball gown and we are now entering the place where they sell that ball gown. I am surprised and almost giddy with relief when she does NOT make a bee line for that gown.

I am delighted with her expressions of pure joy to be in the most wonderful place on earth surrounded by the most lovely creations on the planet--Disney toys! Isles and isles of wonderful, magical treasures to be savored and hugged. Yes, imagine the cutest child on the planet--the apple of my eye--hugging all the toys she picked up. A little buzzer was going off in the back of my mind--screaming danger, danger, but the warmth of completely blind affection was just too loud for me to hear.

After going up and down every single isle twice, Caitlyn picked up a Jesse doll from Toy Story and I thought, I can handle that. It was out of place and so Caitlyn returned it to its proper display. Pretty soon, she was traveling all over the store, taking things that were out of place to their proper display. What a great way to spend an hour I thought as I started to tire from my fifth and sixth circuit around every isle of the entire store. I'm just going to find a place to sit down I told Caitlyn. There was only one seat and it was outside the store. Every person will have the moral question of whether to become a kidnapper when faced with such a delightful child, so I was concerned about losing sight of her and therefore I sat down and got right back up when she left my line of sight. By now I was ready to leave and I knew that the only way out was to buy the child a toy.

Let me say right now that I am not the only person in this boat. The child has more toys than any royal princess and gets new ones all the time. It is the most gratifying thing in the world to buy her a toy because she becomes so delighted and she stays enamored with said new toy for days and days--it being the new most wonderful thing in her life and you put it there--really fantastic feeling--heroin almost.

It is the end of the month. I'm not exactly rolling in dough at the end of the month. I'm not really rolling in dough any day of the month. We have soo much stuff in our house that cannot possibly ever be used. Any toy is going to be land fill fodder and it is completely irresponsible of me as a citizen of this world to contribute to the destruction of the planet in this manner. I'm very tired at this point and I know that defeat is eminent, but I rally for a last gasp. "Something small" I tell her, "we can buy you something small." We've picked up a little camera that clicks at least three times and the little white dog from Duchess and the Tramp has been hugged every time she is within ten feet of it. Woody is addressed whenever she is in that part of the store, so I have some reasonable belief that "something small" is within the realm of possibility.

Remember that Cinderella dress--yes, so did she. Only she wants a Tiana wedding dress. They have a Tiana doll wearing a wedding dress and Caitlyn wants a Tiana wedding dress. They don't have a Tiana wedding dress. They have a mint green, looks like a fairy costume reject Tiana ball gown in two sizes--extra small and larger than Caitlyn is tall. I didn't look at the price tag, but we're talking high end of the cost spectrum--up in that $80 range. "Honey, they don't have it in your size." Let me digress here a moment to remind you all that I am so stupid--I know this even as the words leave my mouth. Logic has no place in this dilemma and yet I bring it out thoughtlessly. "No," I say. "Pick something small," as I drag her toward the small toys by the check out. She breaks away from me and runs back to the Tiana gown--"This is small" she yells. Logic. I knew, knew, knew that was a bad idea.

"No," I say as nicely, yet firmly as possible. "Let's go" and I try to take her hand. She runs away screaming toward the back of the store. Now I follow rather slowly. I don't want this to escalate and I'm pretty tired by this point. Calmness is the key, I am telling myself. I've lost her from my line of sight and I start to eye all the other people in the store--does any one look like a kidnapper? I find her in the back of the store by all the stuffed animals. She's pulled down several large stuffed animals and thrown herself into the pile to sob. Wow, I'm impressed at her fast ingenuity. Several people glance at her screams and loud sobs, but no one gives her attention. Each time she sees me, she takes off running. She is constantly on the move--back up and down every isle. So it is time for a tactical retreat to the front of the store, so that she can't leave.

The problem is that I don't trust my fellow human beings not to steal my greatest treasure--yes I have an unreasonable fear of kidnappers. So anyway, there I am, near the front of the store--trying to look over the isles and catch a glance of her without spooking her and trying to eye all the other people for potential kidnappers. And there's no place to sit down. My bones were singing, I'm too old for this, but my eyes were sharp. Keep sharp, I warned my eyes over and over. This went on for a good long time. At one point she caught sight of me and she screamed and ran. A worker said to her, are you lost and I yelled out "No, she just has a very stupid Aunt." Finally I catch sight of her climbing up a shelf to get something. This is my chance. I quickly move in to scoop her up. She gets down fast enough to get away, but she's clutching a large Cinderella dress up doll package and I quickly grab a corner of it. She'll go where ever that package goes.

I look at the price. $24.95. Lots of little pieces. But it does have a nice looking doll. She really likes barbie dolls and this is a really good looking doll. For Christmas or her birthday or anytime I just want to make her smile--this IS the perfect toy. And it's on sale. The little pieces can be lost and the doll may have a much longer shelf life of utility. Yes, I am thrilled to buy her this toy (that ends up only costing $14--pretty good sale). However, I didn't just fall off the turnip truck yesterday. Getting this toy after almost an hour of struggle is rewarding this bad behavior. How do I save this situation. I don't have much time and I am somewhat limited in my options (being old and tired as it were). She finally allows me to pick her up in the checkout line to buy the toy and I say to her. I will buy the toy but you can't have it today. You have to be punished for running away from me. I will buy it, but you can't have it until tomorrow.

She's happy to agree and then tells me that she will hold it in the car and that only she can play with it when she gets home. No, it will stay at my office, because you cannot have it until tomorrow. She catapults herself out of my arms and we both have a death grip on the toy. She has all the strength in the world and she will fight me to the death are the vibes that she is throwing off. She allows the toy out of her grip for the 45 seconds it takes the clerk to ring it up and to put the toy in a bag and then she grabs it. I keep a grip on it as well, but she won't trust me anymore to pick her up. I am the enemy. She wants her toy and she wants it now. Since I won't let go of the toy, she is forced to follow me to my office, crying quietly the whole way, "I'll be good, from now on, let me have my barbie." I don't know why she was calling Cinderella, barbie, but she did consistently. Mattel, you might want to bring an action against disney for that one, but I digress.

One of my law partners was still in the office and stopped in to say hi. He complimented Caitlyn on how cute and nice she was and I said, just wait five minutes. We are going to leave without that toy and she's going to be screaming. No, he said. And I said, I'm sorry in advance. When it was time to leave, the screaming commenced and the death grip Caitlyn had on the bag became all consuming. I needed to hold my ground, but it was difficult to weather. One of the other lawyers finally came to the door, hoping that a new face would be a distraction, but Caitlyn was too far gone to be distracted.

Now we were very late. We had to leave. Giving up the battle was the only strategic option. "We'll leave the toy in the car overnight and you can have it tomorrow" got her to come with me to the car and to quiet her screaming and crying. She was calm in the elevator, but she still had a death grip on the bag. "I'll hold it in the car" she said as we went down the elevator and I was grimly silent. I opened the car door and she got in, letting go of the bag. I put on her seat belt and put the toy in the trunk. She whimpered, "nooooo, I want to hold the bag" but it was clear she had finally tired of the fight as well. I distracted her with talking about what she could do to show me that she was being good, so that she could have the toy tomorrow. I tried to discuss the movie we had seen about the toys that needed good homes with children who will play with them. She went off on a tangent that she was giving away all her toys so that Matthew and Madilyn couldn't play with them. I tried to point out to her that was not nice, but she missed the logic completely and repeated it several times to prove (by repetition) how good she was.

We got home and she stomped into the house--I am the enemy. She complained loudly to every adult in her path that I wouldn't let her have her barbie. She was entreated upon to eat her dinner and she was distracted by the babies being tied to the dinner table so that she had a clear shot at playing with her toys without their interference and that was the last I saw her that night. I left for my meeting and returned late after she was asleep. I was told that she was fine, after I left.

At 6:30 a.m. the next morning, she was banging on my door, the sleep still heavy in her eyes, demanding that I get her toy. It is tomorrow. I told her she had to show me that she was being good. She stomped out of the room to complain to the other adults, screaming "I'm being good" all the way. I heard her mom tell her to get dressed and get ready for school to show Aunt Kathy, you are being good. In record time, she was dressed and hair brushed back on my door step telling me in a belligerent tone--"I'm being good, give me my toy". I put on my shoes and got my key and opened the garage and opened the trunk and got the toy.

I looked at the excited beautiful child who had magically replaced the surely, mean, warrior. I allowed myself to feel the joy of giving her the toy, she so desperately longed for and for a moment--no longer than a second I had the fleeting expectation of an "Oh Thank you, Aunt Kathy", but it passed. The ecstatic child grabbed the toy and ran off to open it delighting other adults with her glee. Aunt Kathy is in the dog house.

The next day, she showed me the doll solemnly trying to lobby my support for her unhindered access to the small shoes that are a choking risk to her baby twin siblings, but my vote was not for sale and I was quickly marginalized and demoted to not worthy of her attention.

Just say no and accept the dog house, be the dog house, life is the dog house. Words to live by, Yanni.