Water has never been my best friend.

Ok, I can tolerate it for  a shower.  However, it took me a long time to handle a shower because I was used to a tub where the water stayed away from my face.

For Number 1,  water is his mistress–nope not jealous.  He grew up swimming in the blue, balmy waters of the Mediterranean.  If he could choose, he would be a dolphin in his next life.

So, as you can see, this  is a bit of a conundrum for us.

Yes, I learned to swim at the local pool–6 miles from the farm, but…I never put my head in the water.

I do have my reasons.  I can’t stop the water from surging up my nose.  Water funnels deep into my ears and,  of course,  I end up with an ear ache.  Finally,  my glasses were so thick, even as a child, that I couldn’t see underwater, even if I did open my eyes.  Which I never did.

So once we started traveling it was usually to a place with a big body of water.  It would look gorgeous, but…it was always too deep for me to put my feet down on the sand.  i.e. my face would get wet.

I tried.  I dog-paddled a lot.  Yes, I got laughed at.  Yes, he did try to teach me.  But he gave up quickly–he’s smart and he knows a lost cause.

Eventually, I managed the breast stroke with my head above water.  It was a better variation of the dog-paddle.

Oh, and I can swim on my back as long as no one is near me to splash water on my face.

Warm, sunny, southern California means there are a lot of pools and a good reason to use them.

Our new home, came fully equipped with a gorgeous pool.

As you can see, I am absent from this picture.

Believe it or not, my doctor turned me onto this and helped me conquer my husband’s mistress.

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I am a Night Owl!

I really enjoy walking, biking, and swimming–in warm water–around 11 a.m. or 12 noon.

I also really like my  morning sleep,  To some of you, you may wonder why these are not compatible.

Trainer

My “trainer”–or should I say “torturer” is my daughter.  Somehow along the way she turned into a morning person.  She jumps out of bed at 5 a.m., drives to Starbuck and gets a Venti coffee drink.  When that is finished she enjoys a Red Bull energy drink.

While all this is happening, I am happily  slumbering in my bed.

With a burst of excess energy, she throws open the bedroom doors and announces, “Get up! Get Up!  She pulls up the shades as loudly as possible–singing something nonsensical.  She is so hyped on caffeine that sounds just babble out of her mouth.

I quietly shudder and play dead.  She plays doctor and lifts one eye open and I moan as the bright light glares in my eyes.

Get Up!  We are going to the gym this morning! she proclaims.

When she gets no response from me, she is not deterred.  She yanks off my cozy, warm comforter and then she really gets evil. Continue reading→

Typical conversations with my children begin with “Hey Dude. “Such as, “hey dude, what’s for dinner?”  Or,” hey dude, did you hear about this?”  Or, “No way, dude!”

As I recall, the term dude usually referred to a man.  According to Wikipedia, from the 1870’s to the 1960’s, a dude was a man that was dressed in fancy clothes–he didn’t fit into the westward movement or the cowboy way of dressing.  It was considered a derogatory label.

However in the pot smoking, hippy generation of the 1960’s, all men were referred to as dude.  My belief is that most were so stoned that they didn’t want to waste their energy opening their eyes to see who they were talking to, so any deep voice that spoke to them was called  “dude.”

I have heard my voice on tape, I do not have a low voice, nor am I a man–at least I wasn’t last time I looked.

Didn’t woman work so hard to get the word man out of postman to mail carrier and fireman to firefighter?  Now women  have lost all their identity and  instead of using the word man, they answer to dude.

I want women to do what they want to do, but can’t we maintain our gender, and not make everything uni-sex?

The reason this has bothered me so much today is that there was a mouse in the house–specifically in the pantry.  When I saw it, I screamed and screamed like a banshee. I jumped up and down pulled my pants legs up to my chin and screamed again.

Both children were in the house and were definitely within earshot of my voice.Continue reading→

At the crossroads of the world–let’s call it Vienna–any place now is considered a crossroad if people from all over the world congregate there.

Number One and I   were enjoying the perks of frequently traveling and staying in the same hotel–loyalty pays.  In the Executive lounge on the 8th floor of the Hilton, overlooking the Blue Danube, we were reminiscing with friends about our college days and how we communicated with each other and our families.

Whenever friends get together, we love to reminisce and take pictures.  So, our friend asked the couple at the table across from us to take our picture.    As people often do when they travel, we started a conversion.  Travelers are not afraid to speak to strangers because at this point everyone is a stranger.

We learned that this lovely couple was living in Australia, the mother was from the Ukraine and the father was a Russian  Jew with thick white hair like Einstein.   They had their teenage daughter with them, who was born in Germany and is now Australian.

At one point in the conversation we spoke about writing letters to our families and that the mail took two weeks usually for a return response, sometimes longer.  The young mother’s jaw dropped.  “You actually wrote letters?” she asked. Continue reading→

Easter Egg Hunt

Two of our granddaughters were visiting for Easter, so we decided to take them to the Carlsbad Egg Scramble. This was new for us because our kids only looked for eggs in our back yard. Number One had as much fun hiding them as the kids did finding them.

Egg Scramble is a very appropriate name. The eggs were strewn all over the field and the children just had to run fast and pick up as many as they could. My granddaughter had been well trained–I think she did this before–because she was very fast and filled her bucket in seconds. She must have picked up 25 eggs and each egg was filled with candy. The eggs had been donated by a local business.

The dentists in Carlsbad have a sweet, business savvy.    By the way, our eggs were filled with coins.

Even though it doesn’t make sense, I grew up believing I had to clean my plate to prevent the people in China from starving.

Guilt controls most of us and I was controlled into thinking that it was MY FAULT that the people in China were starving if I did not eat everything on my plate.

Once you learn things as a child, even though your adult reasoning realizes it is a fallacy, subconsciously you are controlled by the guilt you avoided as a child.

I had an epiphany on the plane 37,000 feet up over the Atlantic Ocean.

I ate a portion of my dinner and I felt full.  I was full, but I still had one stuffed cannelloni to eat. I have to admit they were tasty cannelloni.

I had a great debate in my head.
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How would you picture a sick car?

Well, let me tell you, in my mind a sick car is rusted, dented, the paint is peeling, and perhaps a window has plastic instead of glass.

Something like this:

No matter where you are, point of view is very important.  When you look left out of the side window, the view of the driver  is very different from the view of the passenger.

My daughter was chauffeuring me around.  She usually offers to drive when she is out of gas.  She finds it is easier  to spend my money on gas, than her money.

We were stopped at an intersection close to the Del Mar fairgrounds, when she suddenly said, “Look at that sick car!”

She pointed to the left and when I looked up I saw a sorry looking little red car that had seen better days.  The finish was dull, the paint was peeling and the bumper was dented.  I started telling her about the a family member’s car that looked like that.

My daughter turned to me and looked at me as if I had grown antenna and fairy wings.
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My mind believes it is 25 years old.

However, my body KNOWS it is 40 years older than that!

Today, the sun was shining and it was in the 60’s and I wanted to see Munich.  I’ve always loved to walk around a city.

So…today I decided to walk to the Englischer Garten which according to the concierge was about 3 kilometers from the hotel.

Englischer Garten
Munich, Germany

Okay, three kilometers is a little more than a mile and a half.  I walk a mile and a half often so that will be easy peesy for me

I walked and walked and walked and walked, hoping I would cross the Ludwig Bridge and I would  walk along the river and head to the garden.

I walked and walked and walked some more. I carried the map, but I couldn’t find the streets on the map–nor could I find a bridge or a river.

I did find a beautiful tree lined path and I marveled at the old architecture of the city.  But, after an hour of walking–I realized I had walked a lot more than a mile and a half.   So, I conceded defeat and turned around. (And for those who know me, it takes a lot to concede defeat.

 
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