Adventures In Futility

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day. So far, so good.

And did I have a present for Marilee before today? No.

Yikes!

So in my typical style, I waited until THE worst day to get a Valentine's Day present, the day before. And what did I get?

[Note: There is no reason to worry that Marilee will see this post before tomorrow - she doesn't read my blog.]

I got such a fun present for her. One that took a lot of thought... wait, I'm getting ahead of myself.

OK, perhaps you've seen the jewelry store ad that's been on TV lately - the guy gets his gal a pair of earrings - and the earrings are inside a musical jewelry box, complete with ballerina that spins when the top is opened. Says she "I had one just like that when I was a little girl."

"It is the one you had as a little girl - I got it from your Mom."

She opens the jewelry box, ballerina starts spinning, removes the box containing the earrings, fade to "Every kiss begins with..."

The first time I happened to see the commercial with Marilee in the room began the adventure - in a voice I'd never heard her utter, she said "I never got a jewelry box like that when I was a little girl".

That was about a week ago - I figured there was plenty of time to get the perfect music box.

Yeah, riiiiight.

OK, so this is the first time I've been in the market for a wind-up musical jewelry box with spinning ballerina. Preferably the last time for a while, anyway. Hopefully, the as-yet-unborn grandkids will get one that's more easily attainable. Music box attainability is the point of this little exercise.

The search started a few days ago, actually. A quick internet search suggested that K-mart would have said music box, and if not there, then Sears. Since Sears owns K-mart, that seemed likely. Otherwise, just about any store would have one.

As an aside, the first stop this morning was to get new batteries for our wireless phones. Not that that is important, but it got me in the shopping mode.

From there I was off to Sears at Fashion Place. Traipsing about the store, I came up quite empty. A circuit of the mall proper turned up NO wind-up musical jewelry boxes with a spinning ballerina, though a salesperson at Things Remembered was lost on the whole jewelry part of the equation and offered a snow globe. Ballerina, yes, jewelry box, no.

Shapiro, no. All the damn jewelry stores? No.

Nordstrom? Dillard's? No and NO.

Sat a while in the parking lot thinking, and then it dawned on me - That backwards R store! Toys R Us!

For naught. While they did have a cheap-o plastic musical jewelry box, ballerina and all, they would not sell it to me - apparently, it had been recently recalled and had not been removed from the store shelves yet. Crap!!

Shopko across the street? Nope.

OK, now, this is getting ridiculous.

The saleslady at Toys R Us had suggested that Walmart might be a good choice - so I headed there. Besides, the nearest one was across from a K-mart. So off I went to Walmart.

As you can see at this point, there's a LOT of words above this point, and a heck of a lot below. Suffice to say, Walmart wasn't happening, either. But what sent me skyrocketing was what the jewelry department lady said at K-mart - "Oh, we don't put out stuff like that until Easter."

[So as to not offend my readers who consider Easter as an event having more meaning than coloring chicken eggs and biting off chocolate bunny heads, I'll refrain from writing what I was thinking about K-mart and their sales practices.]

At this point, I was running out of options, until I remembered a toy store in Foothill Village called Nifty Cool. I was soon headed north.

[Note to those who might want to go to Nifty Cool - they're gone. Don't know where. Shame.]

In a bit of foresight, while I was at Fashion Place, I did go into one of my favorite stores - Brookstone. And got a backup gift, just in case. Not exactly Valentin-y, but still think it was worthwhile, if not for the name of the product. Read through to the end for the backup.

And while I'd gone to several big boxes, I still hadn't hit Fred Meyer Smith's Marketplace, downtown. Off I went.

I'd spent a lot of time in that store last year, so didn't have to roam too much, and started out in the sparse toy department. That was the basic game plan for all the stores; toys then jewelry. And while the jewelry department wasn't much better in terms of choice, they did have the holy grail. A frickin' wind-up, musical jewelry box, with spinning ballerina. Ta-da!!

And it gets better. The price was mismarked by an order of magnitudes and after paying for a music box Marilee never received as a child, I walked out of the store with a smile on my face, a spring in my step, and not too much of a dent in my wallet.

And that gift from Brookstone? It's the perfect backup:

A five-function clock - with timer, alarm, calendar, and temperature gauge.

I got a red one. And for a limited time, it's buy one, get one free.

Yes, you can get two Bob's for the price of one!

Take a look.

Blog? What Blog?

What with my Facebook addiction and not doing anything (officially) for the last two weeks, I've neglected my blog for about as long.

So while this entry isn't as "deep" as my recent posts, I'll likely be back on track next week.

In the meantime, I'll be wearing my new shirt...

...so as to have fresh blog fodder.

See you soon.

I Don't Do Tags

I have been tagged on Facebook. I don't do tags. I do a blog.

As of this morning, there are 282 random facts about me on my blog, far more than the 25 specified in the Facebook request I now have in my notes.

The problem with "tags" on Facebook is that if you provide twenty-five random facts to one person, those facts may be geared towards that particular person - in other words, they'll be facts that that particular person doesn't know about you. And the next time someone tags you, it'll be a whole new set geared towards another person. Ad nauseum.

Admittedly, I've only replied to a "tag" once, last August.

That one tagging will have to suffice.

Nerves

Raising my eyebrows in mock surprise last Tuesday, what seemed like an electric shock coursed through my body, from the tip of my right foot to the top of my head. To say the least, it startled me and I cried out not in mock but utter surprise.

Well now THAT'S different, I thought.

I'm beginning to appreciate the finer things in life - when I can remember them, that is. And I couldn't help but wonder if there was something I was forgetting, that made this new shocking discovery occur.

The pain in my noggin can be recreated at will, I've found - all I need do is apply pressure to my right eyebrow and the pain shoots not from my toes but from my brow to the top of my head. I otherwise don't feel the pain unless I again raise my eyebrows. And that's not all - my scalp now has reduced feeling where the pain has been previously. So what's the deal?

Last Saturday - my birthday - after a wonderful evening at Café Rio where Jenn, Ramin, and Chris magically appeared as Marilee and I pulled in to our parking space, my lovely wife and I went over to Ross for some home decor shopping. Perusing the wall decorations at the rear of the store, reaching for a piece of "art", I bumped my head against an upper rack. Yup, you guessed it, not my head but my brow had impacted that shelf. Not tingly was the feeling, but a sharp, pointy pain. And just as suddenly as it had occurred, I'd forgotten about it. Until I mentioned my peculiar shooting pain to Marilee on about Wednesday. She remembered the altercation at Ross at nearly the same time I did.

I only half-mentioned the pain to my new PCP on Thursday, but at that point I wasn't concerned about it. Now, four days later, there's even less feeling in my scalp, even when there's no pressure on my brow.

I'm not terribly worried about it, though you might get another impression from the above. As with any time I've pinched a nerve in my back, the pain ultimately goes away. I'm inclined to believe that this pain will diminish in time. Happy I'm on vacation for another week.

And how to keep the pain from reoccurring?

If I just relax and continue to do nothing, I'll be fine.

No surprise there.

What's For Dinner (Redux)

Two weeks ago in this here blog, I wrote about Marilee wanting a really good hamburger, on a Saturday of all times. This afternoon, Marilee and I did actually find such a place, and to my surprise, it was Crown Burgers.

What's that you say, Bob? Didn't you say two weeks ago that Crown Burgers isn't open on Saturday?

Yes, I did. And yes, I was worng.

OK, consider that whole scenario. You go to a fast-food joint late afternoon/early evening on a Saturday. There's a sign in the window that says simply "Closed Saturdays". One would assume that this sign would be true, then, for ALL Crown Burgers. Wouldn't one?

Marilee chose to work today. A Saturday. I dropped her off at her work at about 8:30 this morning. Picked her up at about 3:30 this afternoon. She asked if I was hungry; I said yes.

Says me, "Where shall we eat?"

"Just go to 3rd West and North Temple."

While driving to that address, I started going through my repertoire of eateries in the area, and could only think of three - a Subway on the northwest corner, a Dee's a couple blocks to the east, and... Crown Burgers on the northeast corner.

I was overcome with the prospect of telling her "I told you so", but I played along. Approaching the intersection, she said to get into the right hand lane, and I knew I had her. Slowing for the inevitable turn, into the parking lot we went, and I HAD TROUBLE FINDING AN OPEN PARKING SPACE.

Damn place was OPEN. ON A SATURDAY.

Marilee explained that she'd figured that the other Crown Burgers - on 3200 West - wasn't open on Saturday due to the lack of open businesses in that area.

I allowed this as a possible answer, but countered her with another: if the 32nd West Crown Burgers is indeed closed on Saturdays, are they open on Sunday?

And if they're not, why doesn't the sign just say "Weekends"?

Yes, I'm going to Crown Burgers tomorrow.

Even though.

What Has Been Seen...

...cannot be unseen.

You know the type of image. Like a mugshot that's painfully painful.

The best evar picture of that icky feeling we all have:

Blast From The Past

Before my vacation, one of my co-workers said that I'd go stir-crazy before the end of my first week.

Not quite, but I'm real close.

Of all the myriad things I've not been doing, I've been watching a lot of TV - but I draw the line at watching soap operas. Life's difficult enough without watching fake people with all their fake problems. REAL people have enough fake problems.

On TV today is Blast from the Past - with Brendan Fraser, Christopher Walken, and Sissy Spacek. It's one of my favorite movies, though for some reason I've never admitted that to anyone.

I bought it as a VHS video tape years ago, one of those "previously viewed" types of deals, but essentially un-returnable. I mention this because there were wrinkles on the tape, and being un-returnable, it was also un-viewable. It sat on my video shelf for years; one day, I thought, I'd get a new copy of it.

So earlier in the week, while looking for stuff to record on the TiVo, found it was to be on today. I'd forgotten about that until a few minutes ago, and I'm watching it now.

Earlier today, I'd also found another blast from the past - or future, as the case may be. It was an episode of Star Trek, but it wasn't on TV - it was at the Internet Movie Database. If you've never been to the website, you really should. It is THE quintessential site for all things movie and TV.

Anyway, I'd been searching at IMDB for the actor who played Hermie in Summer of '42, because I'd have sworn that he was in an episode of Star Trek, the one called "Miri". It's possible, since Summer... came out in 1971, and the original Star Trek was from 1966 through 1968. While I still haven't found what I was looking for, I did find something far more interesting.

I watched the whole episode of Miri at IMDB's web site!

Can't embed it, but here's the link. Check it out:

Star Trek: The Original Series - Miri

Yeah, I'll be watching a lot more Star Trek episodes this week and next. I still may go stir crazy, but I'll enjoy it a bit more.

Neuropsychology

neuropsychology (noun) - The identification of strengths and impairments in several areas of cognitive and motor functioning to pinpoint regions of cerebral dysfunction.

Doctor's appointment was today. Full-on complete physical. Gown with the open back and everything.

Last night, Marilee helped me write out the list of my concerns; short-term memory loss was at the top of the list. With list in hand, I detailed the list to my new PCP. Nice enough doctor, 20-years since his residency. Even told me his first name, though that seemed just a little weird. Particularly for someone who would soon be administering a prostate exam.

Detailed my meds and why, how long I'd been taking them. Surgeries and allergies. Smoking and drinking. Regular stuff.

Then we got down to the crux of the matter - memory and/or the lack thereof.

While he did say that some form of memory loss is to be expected since I'm old as dirt, he had the nerve to ask "...so what do you want me to do about it?"

I wasn't expecting to hear that. Then again, not sure what I really did expect to hear.

He did say that other than overly-expensive testing with brain scans, a more appropriate course would be to set me up with a neuropsychologist, for some preliminary testing. I agreed to that.

Additionally, he suggested that friends and family watch out for incidents where it is noticed that I'm forgetting short-term stuff. Hell, if no one else notices and I do, what the hell does that mean?

One other thing he said is something I don't believe a word of; I don't think he meant it as a put-down, but it sure sounded that way. He said that testing in such matters isn't necessarily conclusive, that the neuropsychological tests are geared specifically to your level of education. A separate test is administered for, say, someone who'd only had a little college and a trade school (me) versus someone who's had professional education and extensive college training (the doctor, his comparison). So I guess that means the higher your cognitive skill and IQ the more important your mental state is, and whether something can or should be done about it.

Or maybe that's just Bob's BS.

So while I wait for my blood and urine tests to come back for my physical stuff and a more detailed prognosis with suggested meds in ten days, he will be sending along the contact information for a local neuropsychologist he knows of.

Wonder how much her brain is worth.

Systm

That's not a typo.

Systm brings out the geek in me ad infinitum. It reminds me of my beginnings in the electronics world. Back in the day, I woulld have killed for the information presented in Systm. Back in the day when being a hacker was a good thing, when the word hacker meant something entirely different than it does today. I loved being a hacker then - to some extent, I'm still a hacker. And having Systm to provide that outlet makes me all tingly.

I started out in the electronics business repairing battery chargers - April 1976 to be precise, at a company called MSI Data Corporation. No, don't bother looking for their website - they don't exist any more; they were later absorbed into Symbol Technologies and since into Motorola. Wonder how much that ten-share certificate of MSI stock would be worth now. Anyway...

The battery chargers I worked on so many years ago were designed for MSI's products. The "Fast Charger" - part number 128314-000 - could charge a 12-volt battery in about two hours, then switch into trickle charge after that. I knew that damn battery charger inside and out. Truly a marvel of engineering. For the day anyway.

So last week, anticipating my vacation this week and next, I started poking around upcoming shows on the TiVo, looking for shows to record to keep my mind from rotting, and found Systm. New shows air⁽¹⁾ on Mondays; TiVo also allows for downloading older shows from the Video on Demand menu, then to Browse free videos, then How-To, and finally Systm.

I became mesmerized by all the choices, particularly the episode entitled "Three Portable Battery Packs You Can Build". My mind went flying back to that simpler time repairing battery chargers, and immediately wondered where my soldering iron was. And would I need to go buy a few other accessories. And parts. And Altoids...

The Altoids mints themselves aren't intrinsic to the design or construction of the battery packs; it's the Altoids container that's important here - you need something to encase the project in. And the project is designed to fit in an Altoids tin.

So I'm hoping that this thing will work for my Blackberry - will let all of you who have BB's (you know who you are) if it works out!


Added note: Silly me forgot to include Systm's website address where you can download all the videos: Systm


(1) Air is a term from the before time, particularly since, because of cable television, we don't get our television signal via an outdoor antenna. Air is similar in many ways to the term "dial" when referring to telephones, "turn" when referring to tuning in a radio station, and "crank" when referring to windows in your car. And even though all three of those functions have been replaced with pushbuttons, we still use dial, turn, and crank. So even though the signal is received through a cable, it still is referred to being over the air, even though it's not.

What Is This, A Remake Of Johnny Five?

Yeah, you know the movie.

Short Circuit was made over twenty years ago. Yet everyone remembers a confused, naïve robot asking for input - more input. And more.

So I have been asked to provide input - I presume about the vacation I'm currently on.

While my last vacation had profuse amounts of narrative (and pictures), this one will not. My lovely wife, Marilee, suggested I take this particular vacation and do nothing. Even when I suggested I do such mundane things as clean out the garage - lord knows it needs it - I was told "No, you are to do nothing."

"Nothing?"

NOTHING.

She's convinced that the problems I say I'm having with my memory is all about stress. Not sure that I believe that. Hell, it's more stressful thinking about things to not do.

The good news, however, it that my doctor's appointment - where I'll detail all my memory problems - essentially occurs halfway through my vacation.

The appointment is for Thursday. Will you see any more blog posts before then?

Can't say for sure. I'm not supposed to be doing anything.

Does This Kind Of Reporting Ever Stop?

George Obama has come out of the woodwork. In Kenya, fer chrissake. The President's half-brother. A frickin' ocean and a continent away.

Obama's half brother arrested on charge of marijuana possession

Jeebus!

Penny Wise...

...pound foolish.

That's a British pound, for us colonists on this side of the pond.

A British chap is conducting a contest - apparently legitimate - to win his £675,000 home. All you need do is solve a simple Sudoku puzzle and pay an up-front entry fee of £50. Sounds easy enough.

Details here:

The £675,000 Sudoku

and here:

win-free-home.com

I'm not a Sudoku fan as it is, but I may be if I could win a house for my efforts.

And if I win? I'd go to the UK for that.

Besides - getting there is half the fun.

Whats Wrong With This Picture?

Youd think the worlds gone crazy.

Whats wrong with these people?

Good grammars the norm, not the exception.

Oh, its in the United Kingdom?

Then never mind - its their problem:

The city where apostrophes arent welcome

I Just Love Crap Like This

From a recent episode of "It's Me or the Dog" from Animal Planet:

Inauguration Day - From SPACE

Awesome picture at NASA's Earth Observatory.

Inauguration Day Crowds in Washington, D.C.

Click on the image after the jump for a much larger photo.

Rings Of FIRE

Not the rings themselves, but whoever designed these should go to H-E-double toothpicks.

Sinfully ugly:

Crystal Cocktail Ring

Dream A Dream

Peculiar dream last night.

For those interested in my mental state, I have an appointment next Thursday to see my new doctor. Marilee's PCP, as she calls him. When she first used the term, I was a bit wary of what he might prescribe. I was reassured, when I gave her a meaningful stare, that PCP stands for Primary Care Provider.

The dream had to do with said appointment. What transpired during the dream was a bit frightening - instead of telling just the doctor of my symptoms, I also had to relate them to a roomful of spectators, including a few extra patients, since the hospital (or care facility, I'm not sure) was quite full.

Now here's the weird part, as if there was a need for anything more or less weird:

Why in hell can I remember all those details? It WAS a dream, after all, but those remembrances should have gone away once I woke up, with my short-term memory being what it is.

Weird.

Sad State Of Affairs

This is the reason there's a need for animal rescue groups.

WARNING: This is a really sad story...

600 rescued dogs and 80% are pregnant

- from The Seattle Times

What's For Dinner?

Saturday night brilliantly stimulating conversation:

ME: "What do you want for dinner?"

SHE: "Food."

ME: "What kind of food?"

[crickets]

ME: "Edible food?"

SHE: "Edible food."

ME: "What genre of edible food?"

After a lengthy delay, she said "A really good hamburger" and "Didn't we have this conversation last Saturday?"

Yes, we did. That evening, Marilee said exactly the same thing.

And in the Salt Lake Valley, that means Crown Burgers.

I'd headed off toward Crown Burgers at about 7pm. Not late, mind you, but early enough that they would surely still be open. Yeah.

Upon driving into the parking lot, I suddenly remembered that this conversation had indeed happened previously, but not twice - this was the THIRD time this conversation had occurred. Unfortunately, the same thing happened upon arriving at Crown Burgers. On a Saturday night.

For you see, dear readers, CROWN BURGERS IS NOT OPEN ON SATURDAY.

The first time, the second time, and now the third time.

God help me remember that the next time.

The Art Of Marriage

This little ditty was included in a recent email I received and thought I'd share:

The Art of Marriage by Wilfred Arlan Peterson

Happiness in marriage is not something that just happens.
A good marriage must be created.
In the Art of Marriage, the little things are the big things:
It is never being too old to hold hands.
It is remembering to say “I Love You” at least once every day.
It is never going to sleep angry.
It is at no time taking the other for granted; the courtship should not end
with this day, it should continue through all the years.
It is having a mutual sense of values and common objectives.
It is standing together facing the world.
It is forming a circle of love that gathers in the whole family.
It is doing things for each other, not in the attitude of duty or sacrifice,
but in the spirit of joy.
It is speaking words of appreciation, and demonstrating gratitude in thoughtful ways.
It is not looking for perfection in each other.
It is cultivating flexibility, patience, understanding, and a sense of humour.
It is having the capacity to forgive and forget.
It is giving each other an atmosphere in which each can grow.
It is a common search for the good and the beautiful.
It is establishing a relationship in which the independence is equal,
dependance is mutual, and the obligation is reciprocal.
It is not only marrying the right partner, it is being the right partner.

Being A Good Sport

Now that's a phrase I hadn't heard in a long time.

I was a good sport yesterday during a late-afternoon service call. Coupon printer call. At a big-box department store. Not a Wal- big box, rather a K- big box.

It was a daily ritual for my Dad to make someone laugh or at least smile once every day. After having introduced myself as the guy to fix the coupon printers on three registers, I commenced on the first two, which did not have cashiers. The third register had an "older" lady working (I have to be careful when I say "older" any more, since I'm getting "up there").

I said "I don't mean to be fresh (again, another word from before the before time), but I need to get under your register."

Seeing the smile on my face, she smiled as well.

After completing my work, she thanked me for being such a good sport.

Guess I'll have to be a good sport from now on, at least once a day.

Change

There's an article over at CNN that says volumes about what having an African-American president means. It's the same sort of thing that made Bill Cosby speak out about a decade or two ago, that of the stereotypical black family in America. And how they'd been portrayed over the decades.

Which made me realize - that of all the African-Americans in the public eye, I haven't seen or heard one single comment from Bill Cosby himself.

Though he's mentioned in the article:

Black first family 'changes everything'

...there aren't any comments from him.

The Huxtables would never stand for that.

Say Cheese!

Marilee's been feeling under the (winter) weather the last few days. Full-blown cold. Stuffy, snotty, the whole bit. I don't think it's the same crud I had, but Taylor stayed home on Tuesday for something similar. Hope I don't get it.

Since she was feeling so out-of-sorts yesterday, I opted to make dinner - spaghetti. Pasta was boiling, sauce was bubbling, all was well. And it occurred to me that I needed to grab the Parmesan cheese from the fridge, and did so. And realized there were two containers therein.

While combining the two containers was the most obvious course of action, the execution was, at best, a scene from the Three Stooges.

Both had massive clumps of cheese at the bottom, so I shook one to break up the clumps, then dumped the contents into the other.

Then shook agai...

And Marilee started laughing.

She'd heard me in the kitchen, and, as she later told me, she thought "It really sounds like he's shaking that a bit too hard." As she thought that, she looked up, and watched me in the reflection off the fireplace window screen.

As she does this often enough, you'd think I'd be prepared. It's not infrequently that she'll ask "What are you looking for?" when she's looking in the opposite direction. Sitting in her chair, she really does have eyes in the back of her head.

As any good wife will.

And, yes, if you're wondering, the Parmesan cheese went flying everywhere.

Close Your Eyes

the before time (noun) Any time previous to now; primarily, any time previous to when I met Marilee.

Early morning. Bedroom. Really dark. Alarm has just rung beeped incessantly. Marilee has control of the remote. She says "Close your eyes."

Thus has begun a new tradition I taught her from the before time.

In my earlier days, the woman I was married to previously (aka my ex wife) knew all too well that when one's eyes are not accustomed to the bright light of anything, particularly if you're not expecting it, it can be downright blinding.

The antique cathode ray tube of the television in the bedroom is just such a blinding light. Illuminating the entire room, it actually hurts when the thing comes on, it's so bright. The HDTV in the family room, not so much, as the technology is different. Having no tube - in the before time that would be called solid state, but you don't hear that phrase much if at all any more.

Similarly, the bathroom light off the bedroom is even more painful; she doesn't say it when she goes in there, since girls don't need to use the light for nocturnal peeing. Not fair. Not fair at all, since it is I who says "close your eyes".

And, yes, if you're wondering why she doesn't need the light on, it's because the toilet seat is always left down.

I learned that from the before time.

Washington to Obama Morph

VERY Cool:

A Shot In The Dark

It ain't Bugs Bunny or Wile E. Coyote.

Or Penelope Pitstop for that matter.

Lilo and Stitch was on the tube this morning. Taylor was watching. I was dawdling. And only half-listening.

What caught my ear was a scene where the big fish thing was pouring some concoction of an aqueous nature - not really liquid, but more of a molasses in January consistency. In Hawaii I assume. The fish thing then started rattling off the ingredients. A bit of this, a bit of that, and two jiggers of...

I stopped listening before the actual ingredient.

Jiggers?

Lilo and Stitch is rated for seven-year-olds, fer chrissakes!

Admittedly, "shots" wouldn't have been allowable, since that refers more to hard liquor. Jiggers does too, but even more so.

Then again, jigger is from an older generation - mine or perhaps my parents' - where a "jigger of whiskey" was allowable, but only for someone of drinking age. Twenty-one or more.

But not a seven-year-old.

Goosebumps

Have you been feeling them, too?

Every time a story appears about what's happening today - and there are multitudes of them - I get all teary-eyed. That this could never happen. That this is the best thing that's EVER happened.

Like a really good story about the moon landings. Jeez, that was forty years ago.

No one will be able to think of anything else today. In a way, that's sad. There will be likely more people tuning in to an inaugural speech than any time in history. With the help of the internet, the number of people listening in will be in the billions. World-wide. Amazing.

I've got numerous calls to do today; too numerous that I don't know if I'll be in a place where I'll be able to just sit and listen.

It'll be interesting to watch if other people - at the appointed hour - will just stop everything.

Just wait. What an amazing day!

Middle Of The Night Mental Illness

Late evening service call Sunday.

No, that's not entirely true - it was a planned call, an install at a local convenience store. Been waiting for it for a month or so. These calls start at 9pm and end, well, whenever you get done. I was home at 3am.

These installs are fairly consistent, hopefully only a couple snags here and there. One was a CD-ROM drive that wouldn't open, and another was a disruption that kinda trapped me in the store, since I needed to go out to the truck at one point.

Sitting on the floor behind the front counter, I became aware of an argument happening off in a corner. Aware of loud conversation piqued my curiosity, but since this was a place where popping your head up from behind a counter could make one a target a la shooting gallery style, I stayed where I was.

I soon became aware the argument had moved to within inches of the front counter, and realized there was only one voice. Cautiously standing, the gentleman wearing a black stocking cap, black slacks, and a gaudy-as-hell too-long necklace adorned with stars and moons was arguing not with the sales associate but with himself.

Complaining that there were no mini-marshmallows for his hot chocolate, the employee calmly stated "We must be out". Gotta give convenience store employees credit - it's a whole different world behind that counter. Standing or sitting, doesn't matter.

I commented about the argumentative gentleman, but rather than issuing his own comment, the employee simply said "Just wait."

He was right. About 45 minutes later, the necklace was back. And pissed off. Seems he'd left his change on the counter and THANK GOD it was still there. Rambling on about anything and everything, including his time as a police officer and again as a Green Beret, and how he'd customized his van: "See, it's right out there. Wanna take a look?"

Uh, no.

Gaudy made five total appearances last night; the employee said he stops in a few times during the week as well. Each time last night there was one more thing he had to buy. "Hey I need some duct tape!" A cup of coffee another time. Some gum after that.

But was it coffee then duct tape, or was the gum first? Like his mind, it was difficult to keep track of what he'd said, and in what order.

I mentioned all of this to Marilee this morning - multiple personality disorder, schizophrenia, any number of maladies. And lest you skimmed over a bit of the above prose, yes, this wacko drives.

So if you should ever see a blue van around 45th South and 9th East in the middle of the night, and there's a stocking-capped guy driving, keep back a bit.

He may talk you into an argument you can't win.

Awesome Photos From New York In The '90's

The 1890's to be exact, and beyond:

New York Architecture

You Know You Want To

Oh, I sometimes hate myself for continuing a legacy of people effing off at work. But sometimes you just have to get away from those stupid forms your bosses have you fill out.

BTW, if you know me, you'll know why I chose St Francis for this sign.

Hi, Chris!

Video From Flight 1549 Crash

From CNN:

Your Cat May Be Trying To Kill You

Found this on another website, had to rip it off share:

Costco Coupons Are Evil

Last weekend, on a pilgrimage to Costco, Marilee took with her the latest mailer. Coupon savings galore. Amid the dollar signs dancing in my brain, the question became "Where the hell are we going to put all this sh!t stuff?"

Admittedly, the pork ribs we bought were good, coupon or no coupon. But would we have purchased them otherwise? No.

And since our storage container collection has disappeared into the black hole of Taylor's room, we really did need to buy the 32-piece assortment of Rubbermaid products. But without a coupon, would we have even given the box a second look? No.

Of course, Costco coupons aren't solely to blame for the fiscal decay of our country. Supermarket coupons - of the ilk provided by Catalina, for example - suggest that savings can be had if you buy multiples of products. Just buy two of these, one of those, and a few more of another thing, and you can get a coupon for five bucks off your next purchase. But did you really need this, that, or the other thing?

Hell, you can probably save five bucks right there.

Facebook's Entertainment Value

Not the cheesy games.

Not the laughable photos.

Not of finding old friends.

It's more immediate. Quotes in near-real-time.

George W. Bush's farewell speech was tonight. To which one person commented:

"January 20, 2009 - the end of an error."

Wow, I Have A Following

Yes, I'm still here.

Some of you have wondered where I've been. OK, one of you.

Pay no nevermind that it has been a full six days since my last post. That, in itself, is a record.

My disappearance is, in part, due to my new addiction to Facebook. Damn drugs. I've been torn between, uh, playing on Facebook, or updating my blog. Hard choices.

One advantage, given my current mental state, is that I'm reconnecting with friends from high school. Why? It's keeping my mental processes from deteriorating any further than what I've been experiencing lately.

I've been keeping a journal of sorts (this helps) where I keep track of what I forget on a daily basis. For example, yesterday morning, after some parts wrangling at home, I almost drove out of the driveway with the back door of the truck open. Twice. And Monday, I misplaced my keys, my coffee cup, my phone (four times) and tried to remember to turn off the inside-shell light, also four times.

It's starting to scare me.

Even last week I left one of my prize screwdrivers at a 7-11. Somewhere. Don't remember yet which one.

This isn't a new thing - I've been forgetting things over the course of the last couple decades. Some of you might remember calling me on the phone and saying "You forgot something at..." But it never got as bad as it did last week.

Marilee says that one possible solution is to take a couple weeks off, that I'm just too stressed. So, depending on my team's activities, I should be able to accomplish that in a week or so. And that's somewhat convenient; I have another doctor's appointment at the beginning of February.

But not with Doc Fuller.

As Marilee said on Monday, after telling her what had transpired during my Friday appointment with him, that my forgetfulness is stress-related. Already having moved up my appointment by a half hour, he pretty much brushed me off, saying that my forgetfulness could be triggered by the meds I take for depression. Though after consulting the med's website, forgetfulness is waaay down the list for side effects. That, and I've only been taking them for the last four years or so. This stuff has been going on for decades.

My next appointment, for February 5th, is with Marilee's general practitioner. So much the better if I can associate my vacation around that date.

Anyway, I'm still here. I haven't forgotten about my readers.

Yet.

Out Of The Woodwork

So I was finishing up my last call of the day last evening. Expecting this to really be the last call of the day, I only sort of looked at the new call in my queue. Succumbing to the prospect of getting home that much later, I opened up the new call and started laughing hysterically. "You have GOT to be kidding!"

What had popped up in my queue was a nightmare from years ago. The company had had this belief that there was money to be made in the copier business - repairing them, that is. They went through all the hoops to be in bed with the manufacturer, accredited technicians, the whole thing.

Time passed, and the parent company, realizing something that was all too obvious, said "Get rid of it - it doesn't make any money."

That meant selling off all the equipment - not to mention the people - to another company. Short-term, that also meant a too-long period of telling callers wanting copier service that they needed to call another company; they'd do the service. Those calls continued for a year.

Fast forward to early 2008. Apparently, this little history lesson wasn't communicated, if at all, to the new transitional teams when we "changed" companies.

Now, a good three years after the fact, a [expletive deleted] copier call is in MY queue.

Calling the only powers-that-be at that late hour proved a wonderful experience. Basically, it amounted to "I don't care what you do with it, just get it out of my [expletive deleted] queue!!!"

What transpires today from this mis-directed nightmare is anyone's guess.

Note: The use of "[expletive deleted]" is SO Watergate era, but I'm old, and remember the excessive use of that phrase from back then.

Also note that there's likely only about a tenth of a percent of my readers who will find this whole thing funny, but I figure that she needed a laugh.

Brain Fart

I had a major brain fart tonight. I'm not sure if it was brought on by letting the light fixture in the kitchen fall upon my noggin last night - which I'm still feeling the pain of - or if it's something more serious. Thankfully I'm seeing Doc Fuller on Friday for a general checkup; I'll ask him what he thinks about my apparent problem, to wit:

I had a late-night service call tonight; I got home about a half-hour ago. While I did get the call completed, it took a bit longer than it really should have.

It was a simple call, really - just a bad power supply in a server at a 7-11. Diagnosis complete, I then had to find the part. Not really wanting to dig through the truck in blistering-cold weather, not to mention slippery as hell around said truck, I opted to go to the office to pillage a whole server for the power supply contained therein. But to do that, I'd have to call the boss to see how to get into the office without setting off alarms and have men in black with guns drawn show up.

So I leave the 7-11, and head to the office. Upon arriving, I reach for my phone.

And it's not there.

I'd left it at the store.

Fortunately, it's a short eight-ish mile drive back to the store, then back to the office, then back to the store with the power supply.

OK, so maybe I'm overreacting by thinking I have a problem. It could all be just that I'm getting on in years - I'm only 51, dammit! But I've been noticing my short-term memory (or lack thereof) is really starting to bother me.

"First" Cat Dies

How this is relevant to the "transition" I'm not sure, but a sad story nonetheless:

First Cat Dies - FOXNews.com Transition Tracker

New Addiction

I have a new addiction. There's no real 12-step program for it, though I haven't really searched for one yet. Not excessively, anyway. Maybe because I don't want to.



It's an internet-based addiction. There's no surprise there - I've been addicted to the internet in one form or another since about 1980, since I got my first CompuServe account. Almost thirty years, I guess.

My current addiction is Facebook. Lest I be labeled a pusher, you should try it.

You'll become addicted, too.

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA...

I Hear It's A Good Book

Lately I've been "reading" the book Your Heart Belongs To Me, by Dean Koontz. I haven't yet completed "reading" it, so I'm not sure if I like it or not.

The use of quotation marks above is necessary, since I'm reading it as an audio book. A little bit here and there as I drive to and fro during work.

Last time I did an audio book was during our (Marilee and I) 2004 2006 (sorry, brain fart; Marilee and I have been together as a couple for almost five years now) California trip, the one when we got married in Las Vegas. The book was The Davinci Code; I'd already read the book while Marilee had not, and we both figured listening to the book would help make the time go by faster. It really helped.

We had planned on listening to Your Heart... during our last trip, but the Audible copy I'd loaded on the GPS was rather tinny and difficult to listen to. And near the end of the trip we picked up the CD version, but never got around to listening to it. Now I am, albeit alone.

I try not to listen to critical reviews of books, and have not (yet) seen or looked for any reviews of Your Heart...; maybe I will once I complete it.

And just maybe I'll post a review of my own here.

Happy New Year To You And Yours!

Marilee and I are watching the Rose Parade this morning - as usual, it's another Chamber of Commerce day in Pasadena, as my Dad used to say. Considering it "never rains in Southern California", it also hardly ever rains on New Year's Day.

Some day, I really, really, want to see the Rose Parade in person.

Some day...

Sweetest Overhang

Since I've been feeling under the (winter) weather, I've been taking Dayquil during the day and Nyquil at night. Upon taking my evening dose Saturday night, Marilee asked why I don't do - prepare yourself visually - that little shimmy-shake one does when taking vile medicinal concoctions.

Likely from that old commercial that dictates that medicine has to taste bad to be good, I simply replied "I just don't".

I went to bed rather early last night, and consequently got up early - well, early for a Sunday. 7am or so. And let Marilee sleep in. She got up about a half-hour ago, at 10:45am.

Greeting her with the Sunday paper, she said I was acting weird.

"Are you having a Nyquil overhang?"

I gave her a blank stare that lasted several seconds, to which she replied "What did I just say?" followed by "What's it called?"

After I told her, we both went downstairs to flip on the TV and as a result, the TiVo.

She noticed right away that I'd recorded "CBS News Sunday Morning".

"You recorded "CBS Sunday News Morning?"

Another blank stare towards Marilee, which prompted her to stare at the title on the TiVo.

"And what is your overhang from?"

I've Created A Monster

Saturday morning brilliantly stimulating conversation:

"How do you right-click?"

That query was from Marilee.

"See the two buttons below the touch pad?"

"Yes."

"The one on the right's the right mouse button."

"Cool!"

Time passes...

Apparently frustrated, she says a short time later "I don't understand how to do this!" and "What does this mean?"

I walk over to her chair where she has a Microsoft help page open. I'm immediately scared.

"What are you tryimg to do?"

"Make a favorite out of Yahoo."

And we need a Microsoft help page for this?

"Click on 'Favorites'. Click on 'Add to Favorites'. Click on 'Create in'. Pick 'Links'. Click 'OK'.

And up pops Yahoo on the Links bar.

"That's it?"

I smile as I sit back down on the couch.

She says "I learned something new today!"

A short time later - I had already sensed that she was staring at me - she says "You've turned me into a nerd."

"What, because you have your own laptop?"

"Yes."

I'm soooo in trouble.

Wet Burritos

Sounds REALLY appetizing, doesn't it?

So said the menu at a Mexican restaurant in San Diego on our recent trip to California. So close to the Mexico border, we decided one night to have a real Mexican meal. It had to be good, right?

In reality, it was just, literally, borderline.

So after Marilee told the attendee what she wanted, "smothered" was lost in the translation for my order. I'd ordered "smothered burritos" at local Salt Lake City Mexican restaurants in the past, and every time, my order of burritos has sauce ladled over the top. Mmmm good stuff.

Even at Cafe Rio, another fave local restaurant, it's "enchilada style". But WET?

After realizing that smothered wasn't doing the trick, I scanned the menu to see what I was missing. Then it hit me.

"Wet"?

I haven't been able to get that vision out of my mind since.

Over The River And Through The Woods

I'd have to make a guess that every Utah blogger is writing about the weather today. A real, live Winter Wonderland. Last night, the back porch light made the snow sparkle. Positively beautiful, if only because the driving part was over.

OK, so Christmas with the family was awesome. The driving? Not so much.

With two distinct detours - one on 7800 South and another on 4100 South, and not being able to see the road, I'd guess we drove over the Jordan River half-a-dozen times, and went through at least one wooded area. Whether the wooded area was ON the road we were on, I'm not quite sure.

This morning, 7800 South was still closed due to blowing and drifting snow, and last night's closure of 4100 South was from a snapped power pole - the area we were driving in and to had a wind gust of 57 MPH. And today?

Snow shoveling at its worst. At least since I've been in the snow shoveling business. And since we have a corner lot, there's that much more to shovel. Though I don't know how much there actually was out front, I traipsed out back and measured fourteen inches in the deepest part of the yard.

I had a service call in Provo this morning, and while Utah County had snow, it wasn't nearly as heavy as the southwestern part of Salt Lake County.

A second call in the hardest-hit area - West Jordan - made it painfully obvious just how much snow they had: even major thoroughfares either hadn't been plowed or the plow operators just couldn't keep up. Probably the latter.

And to top it all off, now I have a scratchy throat.

I'm going to take it easy this weekend - as much as I can - so as to not exacerbate whatever my body's trying to tell me.

And the rest of the white and drifted snow can just sit there until the spring thaw.

Bailey The Unknown Reindeer

There's That Four Letter Word Again

I don't much like shoveling snow. Then again, who does? This morning, though there twern't any new snow, I had to shovel what had become a cement-like layer of ice that had formed from the last two (or three?) storms. One, which fell while we were in California, and two additional snowfalls since.

And why would I want to get rid of the layer of ice? Simple:

Marilee had a nasty fall (not to be confused with autumn) last Monday at work, and has been house-bound since. And since we didn't need to have her fall again (not to be confused with winter), I decided this morning would be a good time to get rid of said snow.

Bad idea.

Because now, instead of a layer of snowpack to walk on, which, as anyone who's had to shovel snow can attest, that snow affords much more traction than ice - is much more treacherous than walking on plain snow.

And since my snow shovel is rather flimsy when it comes to removing ice, well, it's time for a new one.

Lest anyone fall on the underlayment of ice, and lose their traction.

And be IN traction as a result.

I'll Have That With Frys

On our trip to California, there were a couple of things I really wanted to do - go to a Bob's Big Boy and go to Fry's. As it turned out, we only got to do one of the two...

When I left California twenty-plus years ago, one thing I've really missed is Bob's Big Boy restaurants. And the Big Boy hamburger. Not to mention the Silver Goblet chocolate shake. Marilee remembered Bob's as well, and we really were looking forward to the delicacies.

I'd last gone to a Fry's on my last trip to California; I got my current Bluetooth headset there. I'd gone on the pilgrimage with my cousin Erin, and we spent more time than I'd care to admit going up one aisle and down the other ad infinitum. For at least two hours. After I left for home on that previous trip, Erin took my aunt Mary Lou to Fry's, and she was even more impressed, if not overwhelmed. So naturally, I wanted to take Marilee on our trip.

Having already left the southern part of California, and concentrating on the drive, I'd pretty much forgotten about both destinations. But when we'd gotten off the freeway to go to the factory stores in Barstow, there was Bob's Big Boy!

We split a Big Boy hamburger, and all the memories of that comfort food came flooding back. I picked up a Big Boy bank (to save for our next trip?) and we were off for Las Vegas.

And Fry's?

Interestingly enough, there just happened to be a Fry's on the southern edge of Las Vegas. "HEY! There's a Fry's!" I think I must have startled Marilee with that one. But since we were on a mad dash to get to the Mirage, and avoidance of the aforementioned volcano, I didn't again think of Fry's until we'd gotten into Utah.

Oh well.

Of course, now knowing that there's a Fry's in Las Vegas, we'll just have to add that to our itinerary.

Again.

Rustic Charm

From the Heidelberg Inn in Solvang:

Eating out in Solvang is a treat. Danish goodies galore, from bakeries to traditional restaurants. And Spanish influences too, from the original settlers of the region dating back to Junipero Serra and the California Missions.

The rustic charm is evident from the photo above; most if not all of Solvang caters to this same ideal of a quaint Danish town.

The windmill at the entrance of the Heidelberg Inn is a landmark, and the food is more than you'd expect.

And with numerous wineries, don't miss out on the wine tasting rooms in the area.

You just might have to spend an extra day to take it all in!

Ah, There's The Reuben

So said the menu.

The gastro-intestinal clot above is a Reuben sandwich. But completely unlike any Reuben sandwich I'd ever eaten. I'd seen this mountain on some cable channel or other in the past month or so. And yes, it was called a Reuben. However, when I think of a Reuben sandwich, I think of this:
That's the Reuben from Arby's. And it's oh, so tasty. But that mountain?

While we were staying at the Mirage, and this one particular night, not wanting room service, we decided to partake of restaurant food. In-house was one Carnegie Deli - apparently a duplicate of the Carnegie Deli in New York City.

And as it turns out, the cable channel was doing a report on THE Carnegie Deli in New York. But I didn't realize it at first.

Underneath all that cheese is tender corned beef. And some tasty sauerkraut. And no, I didn't (or wasn't able to) finish it.

That's no space station, it's a moon!

There, It Doesn't Snow

Sunday morning after Saturday's storm:

The temperature in Santa Barbara during our California trip was in the 50's; the temp outside Sunday morning was 25.

I miss the 50's.

GOOD Evening

This was one of the shots in Santa Barbara before the batteries died on the Olympus.

December 5th. About 5:30pm.

The image itself is quite grainy, I'll admit, but there are a few particularly noisy spots on the image that, if you were to ask Jenn, are spiritual in nature. In nature, I think they're flies.

This time of year, I really hate trying to gauge just when sunset (and, to a lesser extent, sunrise) occur. There's either too much light or not enough. With all the cool scenarios to think of - the boats in the morning, the lights at night, the seagulls - I could spend an eternity in a place like this and just take photos all the time.

And, hopefully, sell some of them to keep myself in batteries.

Well-Trodden

I don't know if you can tell how popular a place is, particularly a "natural" area, by how well-worn the ground is.

The dirt trail going to and from the trail to Nojoqui Falls is well-packed - there aren't many places where you might lose your footing. The trail is fairly wide in most places, and other than veering off the trail to get a better photo, or just sitting on a bench to take in the beauty affords your fellow hikers plenty of room for navigation to take it all in.

But watch your step! Those aren't twigs and branches on the ground in the above photo - they're roots that have come to and above the surface.

And there aren't many of these bridges to get yourself over the stream that runs down the little canyon - thankfully they're rustic enough that they don't deter from the natural beauty of the area.

Look everywhere on this hike. There's much to see.

Just under the surface.

Not A Tropical Rain Forest

...but considering there's moss growing on the rocks adjacent to the falls, tropical works for me.

Another from the hike to Nojoqui Falls:

Rainforest? Not so much.

This One Has People

Back in the 70's, I went on summer vacation with my Aunt Eleanor, Uncle Lysle, and Cousin Jody. We'd gone on this particular vacation with an ultimate destination of the Grand Tetons in Wyoming. From Southern California. Quite a drive, considering the freeway system back then was nothing to what we have now.

One route we took up I-15 had moose (at least I think they were moose) off in the distance. Since all I had back then was a 110 camera, it was hard to tell. Hell, it could have been a herd of Great Danes for all I know.

After the photos were developed, and again seeing my relatives, upon seeing the moose/Great Danes, my Aunt Eleanor asked "Where are the people?"

I've kept that question with me all these years, and try my hardest to limit the number of people in my photos. Apparently, to her, there's no such thing as a photograph, only snapshots. And snapshots have people.



This is another shot from my series of Santa Barbara sunrise photographs. It's a panorama, stitched from three separate photos.

I hope you like it. Aunt Eleanor would.

Sunset Gulls

Late afternoon seagulls, Santa Barbara:

On The Falls Hike

On the hike to Nojoqui Falls in California:

Santa Barbara Sunset

This was from the night before we left for Las Vegas on the way back to Utah.

Methinks I caught the sun at just the right time.

The surf helped too.

Volcanoes And The Jonas Brothers

Not necessarily in that order.

I've said recently when it's not a good idea to travel on an "ordinary" vacation. Primarily, one such post said not to travel anywhere on Thanksgiving weekend. This post is not so much when to travel, but when not to stay in Las Vegas.

Oh, we'd done the typical where to stay and what shows could we see bit before. But this is more for what shows or events are happening in Las Vegas and where NOT to stay.

Had we done our homework, we would have realized the MGM Grand was not the place to stay on the way to California. Too, had we done our homework, we would have realized the Mirage was not the place to stay on the way back to Utah.

I don't know who the Jonas Brothers are. Still don't. But every teenybopper this side of the Mississippi knew, and they knew they were going to be at the MGM Grand the DAY we checked in. For only one day. Two shows. One show was letting out as we checked in and one was just about to start. Unexpectedly, we were trying to find a parking space between shows. Yeah, good luck with that. And we hadn't yet figured out the whole "Do we really need to take ALL of our luggage to the room in one fell swoop" and "where the HELL is the entrance to the hotel" two-step.

By the time we were on the way back to Las Vegas, we'd figured out the bare essentials to put in only ONE suitcase. And that valet parking is the only way to go.

Before we left Santa Barbara, early-morning TV provided us with a scary scenario. One of KTLA's reporters was on-scene for what was to happen that afternoon. The Mirage (yes, THAT Mirage) was going to be unveiling their newly-remodeled Volcano. And when was it to be unveiled? Yes, you guessed it, at exactly the same time we were to be checking in.

In a scene from a poorly written "I Love Lucy" show, you've never seen two people move so fast. We couldn't move fast enough to get out and on the road. I barely had enough time to run down to the beach and get the photos I wanted since darkness had set in the previous evening just as the batteries died in the camera.

And we almost made it, but for a "quick" stop at the outlet stores in Barstow.

Arriving in Las Vegas, we heard the roar from the volcano, newly erupting, just as we realized the main entrance to the hotel was cordoned off!

An hour later, we were in our room. And fifteen minutes after that we were asleep.

Learn from our mistake. Check what is going on at the hotel you plan on staying at, even if you have no interest whatsoever in what that show or event is.

Johnny Lovato

Johnny Lovato is 84 years old.

He started his business 66 years ago. At age eighteen.

His shop is at 1900 Rosecrans Street in San Diego. It's one of those nondescript buildings you'd probably just drive by without taking much notice. I did. Twice. Back from the street a bit, the only identifiable marking on the building is a barber pole. A classic, red-and-blue striped barber pole, spinning maniacally. That, and the neon "Johnny's Barber Shop" in the window.

Yes, Johnny Lovato is a barber in the classic style.

He's been in this same location for forty years. The previous 26 years he was downtown, but moved out when the hippies of the day made the area un-workable. That would have been 1968 by my calculation. Man hadn't yet set foot on the moon, but Johnny knew he had to get out of there. To 1900 Rosecrans.

I spent what seemed like an entire afternoon talking to Johnny as he worked his magic on my hair. It was only an hour or so, but consider this: how long was your last haircut, let alone how long has it been since you've been to a REAL barber? We're not talking a salon, or a chain-store hair-cutter, no, a real barber.

He had many stories to tell, about being in that downtown San Diego location, about how his clientèle has dwindled, how he was a big draw during World War II since all the other barbers had been drafted. There he was, fresh out of high school and he literally was the only barber in town.

So how dows a guy from Salt Lake City happen to be searching for a barber in San Diego, California? Since I was to meet Marilee's parents the next day, she wanted me to be as spit-shined as possible - that meant visiting a real barber for a shave and a haircut. Well, beard-trimming anyway. We were staying at the Sheraton in San Diego, so I did the natural thing and asked the concierge for a recommendation.

Johnny's Barber Shop was the answer.

A real Barber. With a barber pole.

Here's Looking At You

Our room at the MGM Grand last week had several cool amenities, several of which were mounted on the walls of our room.

Very cool photos of movie stars which, I'm sure, were stars of many MGM movies adorned this wall. I'm not sure who the actress is on the left, but I'm fairly well certain that Marlene Dietrich is on the right.

While both photos were amazing to look at, there was a problem with the photo on the right which isn't at first obvious. Particularly from the angle shown above.

After we walked around, checking out the trappings of a ritzy room, we realized something about the photo.

From every spot in the room, Marlene was staring at us.

"Do something about it." was all Marilee had to say.

I had to agree.

Nojoqui Falls

No, I don't know who these people are. Not that it really matters, since the object of this photo is not of the people, but the waterfall in the background.

Nojoqui Falls is about six miles outside of Solvang. Part of Santa Barbara's County Parks System, Nojoqui Falls is one of my favorite destinations. From the photo, you can see that up above it's relatively bright, but down near the bottom it's fairly subdued; sunlight doesn't get down that far due to the overhead canopy of trees.

In the past, I'd been up the fifteen-minute-walk distance in the heat of summer, but you'd never guess it was warm. I trekked up there on our day in Solvang with a light jacket on, and it was still a bit chilly.

With benches along the route, there's a bit of respite if you get winded. And since the last time I'd been up the trail was twenty years and 50 pounds or so ago, the benches were a welcome sight!

Another post will have some forest scenes from the walk. If you happen to need a break from driving, and even if you're not heading into Solvang, stop by the falls. It's just off Highway 101 on Alisal Road.

Home

Getting off I-215 last night, we both heaved a sigh - but I'm not sure if it was a sigh of relief or of sadness. Our mega-vacation was about to end.

Chris was at the house awaiting us, as was Taylor, of course. And our multitudes of animals - Bambi, Lexie, and Princess. I'm sure they must have thought we'd abandoned them. They were all beside themselves. And Sundance began a cry/wail until Marilee accorded her some attention as well.

I spent a bit of time with Molly and Sherman; I'll spend more time with them today - I'm taking one more day off to tie up some loose ends I really should have done before we left.

Sleep came easily to both of us; we went to bed rather early. Lexie had her 11:30pm wake-up potty to attend to, and I was tempted to go outside late (early?) to find a cat wailing in the night. But then the wail turned into a squawk. Or was it a quack?

No, actually, it was a goose.

This was the view this morning when taking Taylor to school:

Yup - that there's a goose.

I called Animal Control after getting home, but they said someone wouldn't be able to come out till 10am. Mr. Goose must've known I was calling, since he had waddled away when I went back outside.

Figures - would have been nice to find out if this was the Golden Egg goose. After Las Vegas times two, a golden egg would be a nice surprise.

It's Only An Illusion

Late Monday afternoon and we're in Las Vegas.

Strange feeling that we were just here.

Yes, we were, but it was only nine days ago. This time we're at the Mirage.

We decided, early on, that we'd "use" our economic stimulus payment from Uncle Sam to pay for our trip; if you've wondered how we could afford the trip, now you know.

From a visual standpoint, this room at the Mirage is top-notch. The service, on the other hand, will be spelled out in the none-too-stellar review we'll make on Expedia's website. Hell, we could do an entire nit-picking on our hotels over the last week-and-a-half.

Next vacation - whenever that may be - we'll be less absolute and allow for a bit more leeway.

In the meantime, we'll enjoy our last night of extravagance.

If This Is Sunday...

...it must be Santa Barbara.

Now THIS is nice.

Right across the street from the beach!

HDTV, refrigerator, and microwave in the room. And since I picked up an eighteen-pack of Guinness in Dana Point, the cold Guinness will be a treat.

We're now at 1400 and some-odd miles, and have two legs to go, to Las Vegas and then home. Our vacation will be over far sooner than we'd like.

Sunny Fields

It's Sunday, and we're now in Solvang.

Solvang is a little town Near the Santa Ynez mountains - think inland from Oxnard. If you don't even know where Oxnard is, then think up the California coast from Santa Barbara.

Founded by Danish immigrants in 1910, Solvang (meaning "sunny fields") has become a very special place where old world charm and customs have been successfully linked with the American way of life. (Text partly from the History of Solvang from the Elverhøj Museum).

My family (up until the late 1970's) always came up to and through Solvang on the way to another family retreat in Pismo Beach. Unfortunately, due to time restrictions - not to mention distance - the last two times I made it to Solvang were in 1980 and 1986. Now twenty-two years later, time has taken its toll.

Marilee and I are staying at the Kronborg Inn, and I'm sure that in the heyday of Solvang this place was far more, well, Danish looking. But this isn't the forum for making less-than-stellar reviews of - no, I'm not even going to say it. I'll leave that for Expedia's website.

Let's just say we've become spoiled after staying at some really nice four- and five-star hotels over the last week...

Grimace

This ring begs the question "How are rings designed?" Does someone on crack draw a picture and present it to a ring maker (looking away so as to not see the grimace on the ring maker's face) and a ring is produced? Or does some jewelry house (also on crack) design multitudes of crap and say "Take your pick?"

Maybe some ring-savvy person out there can answer the question.

Dana Point

We're staying at the Laguna Cliffs Resort and Spa while in Dana Point.

Pretty nice accomodations, if I do say so myself. On par with the Sheraton in San Diego, but there's no battleship in the harbor.

We're going to burn off some calories from room service's great breakfast this morning, and I'll be taking the camera along.

One more interesting note: While it's customary to find certain items in hotel guest rooms, some things aren't as common - at the MGM Grand, in the nightstand was the ubiquitous Gideon's bible. At the Sheraton, there was no scripture reference of any kind.

But here at the Laguna Cliffs, we were surprised to find a Utah reference. While it's true that this particular hotel is part of the Marriott chain, it then becomes no surprise what is in the nightstand along with a Gideon's bible.

Yes, there's a Book of Mormon in there, too.

Cubed

It's now Friday morning, and now we're in Dana Point. Marilee and I had dinner with her Mom and Dad. and her brother and his wife. Funny thing about Marilee's Dad and brother - while there's an obvious family resemblance, there's another obvious relationship. And with me there, it was thrice the fun.

The Brilliantly Stimulating conversations lasted for quite awhile, with Bob the Dad, Bob the Brother, and me.

It was bobsbs, bobsbs, and bobsbs.

Fun stuff.

THESE People Went On A Cruise

They must have docked overnight.

Beautiful sunrise this morning. Hope "Red sky in morning" doesn't pan out.

Where We Are

Or I suppose that could read "Where Are We?"

Between San Diego Bay and the airport. Pretty much the gist of it.

That previous photo shows that we're near the bay and downtown, not so much in relation to the airport. So how close IS the airport?

Pretty damn close.

San Diego At Night

Night view from our hotel:

That's Downtown San Diego in the background; foreground is part of the San Diego Marina.

Gorgeous.

Gilligan Never Showed Up

Or the Skipper for that matter.


The Harbor cruise didn't happen. Marilee had a bit of intestinal distress Monday; she spent the entire day in bed. She was up and around for the first day of her conference Tuesday, though - she's feeling much better.


Monday night I took my Aunt Mary Lou to dinner, a leisurely 40-mile trip inland from San Diego.


But the day wasn't all tending Marilee's sour stomach - I had picked up some travel brochures in the lobby Monday morning and brought them back to the room. After perusing all the things we could be doing, Marilee said that I should partake of one of the activities, even if she didn't come along. So as it turned out, though we didn't go on a cruise, I went a light-year or two on a trip of my own.


Star Trek: The Exhibition is now showing for a limited engagement at the San Diego Air & Space Museum. The tagline "Explore the History of the Future" was all it took to get me excited about going. Props, costumes, models, the works. Even sets from the ten movies and five TV series.

No photography is allowed - major bummer - but they do have souvenir photos available with a typically touristy price.

So if you have the chance, beam over to the Museum. It's in Balboa Park.

Thankfully Gilligan's Nowhere In Sight

Marilee had THE most serious expression on her face this morning. "I need to call the front desk!" So after perusing the labels on the phone and showing her which button to push for "Guest Services", I breathlessly awaited her question.

Since I was only hearing one side of the conversation, I imagine the expression on the young lady's face at Guest Services was more than bemused. Marilee said her reply was "About 10am".

Marilee and I are interested in taking a one- or two-hour harbot cruise today, hopefully way before we go have dinner with my Aunt.

The question had to do with the harbor cruise, albeit a bit indirectly.

"What time does the fog lift?"

I'm not going if the ship's name is the "Minnow".