Tuesday, December 20, 2011
I have LOTS of things to write about, but I've been busy, busy, busy. Dr. Lobo and I have been traveling. I was away from home for 47 days straight, which is a new record for me. We took a 28 day cruise, in which we went through the Panama Canal TWICE, as well as to other interesting places. We also spent some time in southern California with my brother and sister-in-law. (I got to see my sweet 89 year old aunt while I was there, too.) Next I flew to Cleveland, Ohio to be with The Singer (Best Friend Forever) during her husband's heart surgery and early days of recovery. As you can tell from this brief summary, it's been a busy and interesting fall and early winter.
Eventually I'll get back to writing my blog posts, but not until after Christmas.
Today I wanted to post an announcement that I'm sure some of my Oklahoma friends would like to know about. Last year I wrote about the incredible Lego exhibit.
Several people said they wished they'd known about it. Well, it's back! But only through the end of the year. Here is the information about it:
Sweet Girl and The Writer will be here for Christmas, and if they're interested, we'll go see it. Maybe we'll see you there.
You'll hear from me again, I promise!
Thursday, September 29, 2011
I wouldn’t do it for just anyone. But the lady with the beautiful smile in the photo above is my Best Friend Forever. In my blog, I refer to her as The Singer. If you’re confused because I’ve posted her picture in the past, and this doesn’t look like the same person, it’s because she’s lost a large amount of weight. She sets a great example for me when we’re eating together, but unfortunately, I usually don’t follow it.
Her pseudonym was chosen because (a) she has a beautiful voice and (b) she sang at some of the important events of my life. She sang at our wedding, forty-four years ago. She and her (also musically gifted) husband sang at my daughter’s wedding and at my mother’s memorial service.
We’ve been friends since college, way back in the sixties. We struggled through raising our kids together. (Once while we each had preschoolers and were attempting to have a telephone conversation but were repeatedly interrupted by our offspring, she said, “I give up. I’ll call you back after our boys are in kindergarten.”) She can make me laugh over ANYTHING; my children could always tell when I was talking to her on the phone because of the amount of hysterical laughter. She sobbed when I told her that my father had died. And on those times when I was ready to leave Dr. Lobo, she listened to me until I calmed down and came to my senses.
We have a long, laughter and tear filled history. So when she had a need that I could fill, I didn’t think twice about coming to her rescue.
Every week we meet for lunch, go to a movie, and enjoy coffee at Starbuck’s. Last week we sat in the theater and watched previews until The Singer said, “I’m cold. I’m going back to my car for my jacket.” But before she could get more than a few feet down the aisle, the movie started. She decided that rather than miss the opening scene, she’d freeze through the movie.
I happened to be wearing my denim skirt that has buttons all the way down the front.
When Dr. Lobo heard this story, he shook his head and (not for the first time) said, “You two are dangerous together.” But I wouldn’t take off my skirt for just anyone. My BFF is special.
Friday, September 2, 2011
(If you have not yet read Part One of this tale, do it now. You might also want to get something to drink, as this will be a long post. I’ll wait for you.)
Okay, now that we’re all on the same page—literally—here’s the rest of the story:
Crazy Man wore flip-flops and a “vest” that had enjoyed a former life as a long sleeved shirt before the amputation of its sleeves. His jeans were cut upward about nine inches from the hem every inch or so, creating a fringe effect. As he talked to me, he acted out each story with dramatic flair. Early on, he explained that he has ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder). I had already surmised that fact.
This guy has an interesting real life as well as a rich fantasy life. Here are just a few of the things he told me: He’d had an altercation with a man that caused him to spend three days in jail in Granby. Somehow, though, he’d also just left the hospital because during his fight, he broke two ribs and his lung collapsed. The medication he took at the hospital caused him to chase the nurses around while “buck naked.” He was traveling to Glenwood Springs to settle a judicial matter. He didn’t have a train ticket, but that was all right because a judge had given him a paper for the conductor. Crazy Man grew up on a cattle ranch in Texas, where his people were wealthy. At nine years old, he inherited millions of dollars from his grandfather, but his dad stole it from him. But he still had plenty of money, even though he didn’t carry any of it with him. He had even set up a foundation “to help people” and he had just given $1400 to a church to supply coffee for an AA group that met there. One of his current projects involves working with some bigwigs to build a monument to the USS Indianapolis. He’d joined the Navy after dropping out of high school thirty years ago, and in fact, he’s been training to become a Navy Seal. Many times he has talked with high-ranking military personnel, and they always like his ideas. He has met Condoleezza Rice, and he once lived across the street from Sammy Davis, Jr. He’s an expert on neuroscience, and he is familiar with all the psychotropic drugs. When he was messed up on heroin, he did things like cut off the appendages of cows. But he’s been sober for 21 years now. He goes to AA, NA, OA, GA and all the other twelve-step programs.
Crazy Man talked nonstop for two hours. Finally I interrupted him by saying “I HAVE to go to the bathroom!”
At that point, the train was over half an hour late, and three other (normal) passengers had arrived. Crazy Man went off to find a maintenance guy. When he returned, he announced that the train would not come for another hour and a half. He left to find an AA meeting.
An hour or so later, Crazy Man returned, carrying a sandwich and cigarettes. People at AA had given him ten bucks, he said.
More time passed, and the California Zephyr was nowhere to be seen. I spent a lot of time staring at my environment and avoiding eye contact with Crazy Man.
The (normal) men walked into Granby and bought sandwiches for all of us. (I had long since devoured all the snacks I’d taken from Margie’s pantry.)
We watched several freight trains go through.
The eastbound train arrived, only thirty minutes late, and picked up a couple of passengers.
The Amtrak status update gave us an estimated time of arrival of 4:55.
Around five o’clock, we heard a whistle. All of us scurried outside and gazed into the distance. Sure enough, we saw a light down the track.
The California Zephyr pulled into the station! Six hours and 23 minutes behind schedule.
Not so delightful or beautiful were the butts of the four different groups of people who mooned us as we passed by, but I guess that’s the thing to do when a train comes along. Popular culture never ceases to amaze me.
Darkness fell long before we arrived in Grand Junction at around 10:00 p.m. I have been pleased to see Dr. Lobo on many occasions, but I was extra happy to see him waiting on the platform when we pulled into the station.
The next day we explored the gorgeous land east of Grand Junction.
I wish I’d been able to view that area from the observation car of the California Zephyr during daylight hours, but . . . well, you know—the train was running late.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
When I bought my ticket for Amtrak’s California Zephyr train from Granby, Colorado to Grand Junction, Colorado, the clerk warned me that the train might be a bit late—maybe as much as two hours. Still, it seemed like a good solution to our problem.
We spent a week driving to Seattle so that we could go on our Alaskan cruise. (Yes, I know. Most people fly from Oklahoma City to Seattle. Even those who drive take less than a week to get there. But we travel by the “Ten to Three” plan. It works like this: The motel’s check out time is ten, so we leave then. We drive for a couple of hours, then stop for lunch. After a leisurely lunch, we drive until three, when we can check into the next motel. We then have time for a swim in the pool or even a nap before supper. This routine continues throughout our trip.)
Okay, I’ve had my little ADD break, so I’ll go on with my story. We spent two weeks on the cruise, followed by about ten days in Oregon playing on the coast and visiting Wild Child, The Blonde, and the Grand Dog. (More about that later. But look. Isn’t he a great looking dog?)
Next, Dr. Lobo left me at the Portland airport so that I could fly to Denver in preparation for my annual “Gabfest” with college friends. While I gabbed with my friends, he drove toward Colorado, following the Ten to Three plan. We thought he might need extra time to get to Granby, where Gabfest takes place. The California Zephyr stops in Granby, so we decided we would shorten his eastward drive. I would take a westbound train and meet him in Grand Junction.
Sounds simple, right? Well, it would have been, except for a few complicating factors. First, although the train was scheduled to arrive at 10:37 a.m., my friends needed to drop me off at the train station at 7:45 so they could get to the Denver airport in time for the Gabfesters’ flights. Okay, no problem. I can entertain myself for long periods of time with a book, a notebook, and a pen. The Granby train station is merely a waiting area, with no clerks. I figured I could get a lot of writing done with all that solitude.
The first hour and a half were lovely. Then, what should appear but . . .
To be continued . . .
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
I thought cruise people were big time partiers.
Since I'm not wealthy, sophisticated, or a partier, I figured cruising would never be my thing.
But Dr. Lobo had been to every U.S. state except Alaska, so of course we had to go there. We decided a cruise might be our best option. During the cool days of November, we booked an Alaskan cruise on Holland America's MS Amsterdam. That decision enabled us to escape Oklahoma City's hottest July on record.
Here is my first view of the ship that would be my "home" for two weeks.
Embarking at Seattle, we entered a different world.
As we pulled away from the dock, I had to call a couple of special people and share my excitement. I may have squealed.
My quick adaptation to cruise life amazed and worried Dr. Lobo. But how could I not love it? Smiling people cooked and served my meals, made my bed, and cleaned up my messes. (This does not happen at home.)
The scenery was breathtaking, of course, and each port was interesting and fun. But even at sea, a multitude of activities kept me busy and happy: movies, team trivia games, lectures, shopping, Tai Chi, listening to the stringed quartet, reading in the library, nightly entertainment, participating in an On Deck for the Cure walk (breast cancer), new friends, and more. I even went to the gym (once).
Then there was the food--always available and generally excellent. I tried to counter the calories with exercise. (Eat a chocolate cream puff; walk around the promenade deck). I haven't worked up the courage to weigh myself, but judging from the fit of my pants, I'm sure the calories won. They had a definite advantage, thanks to the "Dessert Extravaganza."
Each night when we returned to our room, a cute animal shaped from a hand towel greeted us.
Cabin stewards left chocolate on our bed. I put those away instantly. I wanted to keep my cabin tidy, you know.
Our grandbear, Junior, accompanied us. We enjoyed his company except that he kept asking to be taken to the buffet line for salmon.
Dr. Lobo has to maintain his reputation as a curmudgeon, so he won't admit to liking the cruise, but he can't fool me. He had fun.
We spent fourteen glorious days in this alternate universe. Three days after disembarking, I booked our next cruise.
I am indeed a person who loves cruising.