Beaches and Caches and Sharks, Oh My!

Beaches and Caches and Sharks, Oh My!

The fog-choked fields of corn and soybeans flowed past the side windows of the dark blue car as it slid southward through the last hour before dawn. The two people in the car sipped coffee and munched bacon-and-egg sandwiches as they watched the beckoning white line of the roadway disappearing in front of them into the fog and mist. They chatted companionably about the vacation that lay before them and together watched the miles tick off on the GPS which glowed in the darkness of the car's cabin.

It was the beginning of my wife and my annual vacation.

We had left our small Ohio town that morning some time before six am. Since it was the middle of September, there wouldn't be much light before an hour or hour-and-a-half had passed. That was OK. We were at last on our way and the occasional ground fog and the darkness only seemed to welcome the beginning steps of our daylong drive south.

We were approaching central Ohio on the interstate before dawn at last overtook us. The fog remained our companion for another hundred miles or so before it began to burn off south of Charleston and by the time we took a break near Beckley, West Virginia, it was gone and the sun shone brightly from a robin's egg blue sky. We'd been on the road 3 or 4 hours, but it was still morning, so we grabbed another breakfast sandwich and some OJ to keep the fires burning and continued on our way. The heavily forested mountains of West Virginia and the slice of Virginia we had to bisect soon passed and before long the mountains were fading behind us. Very soon the last sentinel of Pilot Mountain shrank away to nothing in the rear-view mirror.

Lunch was an IHOP in Winston-Salem, North Carolina and the period of sitting still was relished along with the sandwiches and soup we ate. Soon we were back on the road and wending our way south by southeast, the blood-red dirt of North Carolina blending into the flat, sandy expanses of the tidewater region as we finally approached our destination. Soon the Honda pulled into the parking lot of our beachfront hotel in North Myrtle Beach and we were checking in.

My lifelong friend Chuck and his wife Pam had agreed to share this vacation with us and were waiting for our call after we checked in and had unloaded our luggage. We went to their suite and chit-chatted for an hour or two with them before adjourning to a Chinese/Seafood place for supper. After getting a bellyful of food we returned to the hotel and not long afterward hit the bed. The day had started early, the night before was short and we were asleep almost immediately.

We awoke on Sunday and at once went to our balcony to admire the gorgeous view of the blue Atlantic and the stretch of beach that was to be ours for the next week. The sun-worshipers, beach strollers, surf fishermen and sand castle manufacturers were already busy at their endeavors. We watched the activity a while then adjourned to the hotel's free buffet for breakfast. After eating we drove around and attempted to buy tickets for the shows we wanted to see that week but, as it was Sunday, most places were closed that morning. We hit a grocery store for food to make for some of our breakfasts and lunches in our rooms, then returned to the hotel. Judy and I went caching that afternoon and added 6 or 7 and a new state to our totals, then went to Walmart to buy a new camera to replace the one I thought I'd left at home. I'd have sworn I'd packed it, but we could not find it either in our room, our luggage or the car. Lunch was at Sonic, then back to the hotel for some pool and lazy river time. The weather was resort brochure perfect with sunny blue skies and warm sea breezes. Supper was at a Myrtle Beach tradition, the K & W cafeteria, and their quality was top-notch as usual. We then returned to Chuck and Pam's room and helped prepare fishing tackle for our next-day's pier fishing trip.

Monday I arose early. After a quick breakfast at the hotel buffet I went metal detecting on the beach. The day was warming quickly and soon I was wiping sweat and sand fleas from my brow. The detecting was sparse and only a small number of coins were found along with numerous trash targets. After a cleanup in the room, Chuck and I went to buy our tickets for the shows we wanted to see later in the week. After a leisurely dip in the hotel's pool we lunched at a local's BBQ place we'd discovered where the food was good and quite inexpensive. In the mid-afternoon Chuck and I drove to the Cherry Grove Pier for some fishing. Don't know exactly why, but we had very little luck. Possibly due to the squid we were using for bait? We returned later that evening and fished until 10:00 and still got bupkis. Supper that night was at Joe's Crab Shack at Barefoot Landing where I enjoyed coconut shrimp, one of my favorites.

On Tuesday we cooked in our kitchenette for breakfast. Afterward we rode with our friends to a local mall and shopped a bit. We then drove to downtown Myrtle Beach and shopped the Gay Dolphin, a Myrtle Beach landmark, for souvenirs. Lunch was on the lovely new boardwalk that Myrtle Beach has built downtown. Back to the hotel for more pool time. Hit the beach afterward for more detecting and got some more coins and a toy car. Talked to a husband and wife who were digging a large hole in the sand. They were hunting shark teeth and were apparently getting some too. Nice couple. Talked to another lady who was strolling by about metal detecting. She was from New York and was very interested in the hobby. Supper was at a North Myrtle Beach gem, Hoskin's Restaurant. There seems to ALWAYS be a line to get into this place and the food was exceptional. They had the BEST peanut butter pie I believe I've ever eaten. Superb! Judy and I played miniature golf that evening after supper as the Grand Strand is the mecca for the sport and has some extraordinary courses.

Wednesday we breakfasted at the hotel's buffet again. Chuck and I strolled the beach afterward for a while looking for shells and shark teeth and, if truth be known, watching the latest bikini fashions as they strolled around. This day was also quite hot and there were LOTS of sun worshipers around. Judy and I went caching again later and found another 6-8. We ended up somewhere in the South Carolina hinterlands inland of the Inter-coastal Waterway for our last cache and had to use the GPS to head us back to the hotel. Ended up getting scratched up legs again from more briars searching for a cache. I MUST remember to wear long pants when doing this hobby no matter how hot it is! Relaxed a bit in our cool hotel room then dined again at K & W Cafeteria. We then went to the Carolina Opry. This was a high-energy show in a huge showroom showcasing mostly country music and corn-pone comedy. It was quite good and apparently quite a treat for those who appreciated country music more than I. They asked the veterans to stand in the audience and almost 80% of the men stood up. LOTS of vets there that night. A fun evening.

Thursday we had Chuck and Pam up to our room for some of my famous French Toast breakfast. We then split up where Judy and Pam went shopping and Chuck and I returned to the Cherry Grove Pier to again attempt to harvest some salt water fish. We used shrimp for bait this time and this seemed to be the ticket. We both got LOTS of bites and I was catching fish quite often albeit little guys. Mostly spots and one angel fish. I did catch an odd one toward the end, though. A longer, skinnier fish with an odd head. I, for some reason, identified it immediately as a Remora. These are the fishes that attach themselves to sharks and eat the scraps as the sharks feed. Shortly before landing the Remora I was glancing at the water below the pier and saw something that really excited me. I elbowed Chuck and pointed to the water. “Do you see what I see down there?” I asked him. He acknowledged that he did. Swimming right below us was, I swear, a shark that HAD to be 6 or 7 feet long! Two guys that were on the pier near us asked if we had seen the shark. They told us that was good news as the shark was there feeding and that meant there were lots of fish there! So the catching of the Remora was logical if there was a big shark nearby. It was chilling, however, to watch the big fish swimming within a hundred yards of the people frolicking in the water just off the beach.

That evening we went to the “Dino's TV Variety Show”. This was a show in a small venue that was a tribute to the old Dean Martin Golddiggers Show on TV back in the '60's. They had a number of performers who portrayed Dean and a number of his guests from the TV days, Sammy Davis Jr., Louis Armstrong, Phillis Diller, Carmen Miranda and Marilyn Monroe. The performers were all great and the show was amazing. A definite MUST SEE if you ever visit the area! We met the actors after the show and chatted with them on our way out of the lounge. Another fun evening for the folks from Ohio!

Friday was our only day of dismal weather for the week, being much colder with gray skies and spitting rain. Went to the Waffle House for breakfast to get a break from hotel food and stuff we'd cooked ourselves. Went coin-shooting on the nearly empty beach afterward and gleaned a few more coins. Only the hardy folk were seen inhabiting the strand that morning. Judy and I drove to the the big mall south of Myrtle Beach and walked around a bit. We lunched at the food court, then drove out to the site of the old Myrtle Beach Air Force Base. It closed many years ago but had a display of the airplanes that used to fly out of there and we walked around them and took some pictures. We fondly recalled our vacations of the past when we'd camped on the beach and watched those same planes flying in and out of the base over our heads. We returned to the hotel by driving through the downtown Myrtle Beach area and eyeballing all the changes that had taken place over the years since we'd started going there back in the early '70's. Much has changed but there is still the spot here and there that is still the same and they all brought back memories from years past. Supper that night was again at Hoskins Restaurant. I had an exceptional cream of crab soup, a fried oyster sandwich and another piece of that extraordinary peanut butter pie. I would soon pay for all the rich food I'd eaten that week. That evening and most of the following day I was “blessed” with a very queasy/aching stomach. But the meal was a good capper for the week. We returned to our rooms to pack and load the cars for our upcoming morning trip.

Saturday was again a trip began in the dark, driving the pre-dawn Carolina roads with a spitting rain; northbound this time. My stomach was VERY ouchy from my gustatory excesses and I placated it with Tums, Pepcid and very bland food. We grabbed another geocache on our way home near Fancy Gap, N.C. and another just over the border in Virginia giving us another 2 states to add to our caching statistics. Lunch was a Denny's in Wytheville, Virginia along with some much-cheaper-than-home gasoline. Arrived home at 6:15 pm and chatted with our son who'd stayed home this trip and watched the house and the dog in our absence. The missing camera we'd supposedly left at home was NOT there and we half-tore apart the house verifying that fact. We surmised that we'd possibly dropped it off the luggage trolley we'd used to ferry our bags to the room the previous Saturday when we'd arrived. Someone got an early Christmas present that day. Hit our own bed early that evening as I was exhausted.

So thus ends another excursion with yours truly and his better half. It was a good trip with good friends and, like most trips of that kind, it ended much too soon. I find I had grown inordinately fond of the sunshine, the sea breezes, the always friendly people of the South and the great food there. I loved waking to the sound of surf just outside our balcony door and enjoyed immensely sitting there and watching the squadrons of pelicans and sea gulls gliding through the warm air above the beaches and hotels. I enjoyed watching the antics of the sandpipers as they quested for tidbits in the surf and further enjoyed watching the bronzed sun-worshipers as they strolled the sandy beach.

Being where the land meets the sea and spending time there is both exhilarating and melancholy to me. Exhilarating because of all the reasons people throng to the shores and the mountains; to exhault in the holiday atmosphere that generally inhabits those areas and to lose some of the inhibitions that forever mark the everyday world. But also melancholy as this is the place where the land ends and the sea ends. It's a watery place and a windy place and it's a place for long views and long thoughts. It's the place that'll be there long, long after we're gone, where the waves will eternally crash against the land and will be eternally drawn back again. It's a place that suits me, I think. And it's a place that will call to me wherever I am and whatever I may be doing.

But if nothing else, it's a vacation place and it was great to see it again.

I Give Up

I Give Up

OK, I give up. Ya got me. I concede that you've won. You've beaten me into submission. So can we now call it a day and get back to business?

What am I talking about? What am I blabbering about in my incoherent, clumsy way? Well I'm going to tell you in a minute. But before that, please remember that the following thoughts are MY thoughts. They MIGHT be totally correct. Or they MIGHT be totally wrong. But they're what I see from my vantage point and what I hear whispered along the grape vine.

I'll bet it's close to the truth.

Anyhow...

It's this doggone depression. Or is it a recession. Or a business downturn. Or whatever the hell it is. I'm TIRED of it. I'm tired of reading about it. I'm tired of listening to the talking heads on TV speaking nothing but doom and gloom. I'm tired of the dollar taking a beating. I was in Canada recently and I just HATED having to give more of my hard-earned dollars for less Canadian funny-money.

But I'm mostly tired of not seeing a raise, not seeing any overtime and worrying all the time about whether my job, my wife's job and my friend's jobs are going to be there tomorrow, next month or next year. And it seems that a lot of that concern is beginning to become more and more specific to my particular place of employment.

My wife is employed in the office of a manufacturer. The past year to year-and-a-half has been a good time for them. Their orders are up, they're making money and they're hiring people. In fact, they can't even get the people that they need. They're even advertising overseas for people to fill engineering spots. My wife has received decent raises the past two years and the occasional extra bonus for this and that.

Things are going well for her.

The place my son works has received huge orders for the automotive part they manufacture and are running seven-days-a-week for pretty much the entire staff. At least through Labor Day, possibly longer. They recently hired a LOT of people. They're doing very well.

I've recently talked to a number of my acquaintances and the story I'm mostly getting is that things are looking up and they're all looking at raises and promotions. Almost all of them.

In fact, most of the people I know seem to be on the upswing in their employment. They were down but are now surging forward.

The depression/recession/whatever is, for the most part, over for them.

For them, I should repeat.

But not at my place of employment.

And that sluggishness of my business has become difficult for me to understand.

Maybe a little background might be in order here.

The department that I work in is a part of a county government. Most governmental departments; local, city, county, state, federal; are funded by taxes and are often are in trouble when economies are down due to reduced tax receipts. But our department is what's called self-funded. We sell a commodity that everyone needs; water. Most people in the urban environments we're based in buy our commodity – those without wells of course – it's a necessary part of life. It's a need rather than a want. So we take in the proceeds from the sale of water plus other proceeds from fees associated with new hookups to the water system and other fees. This money, this income, is then disbursed throughout the department. We are not dependent on tax monies for income. You'd think that, with adequate forethought and decent management, at least this department should run like a top and all employees in it should share in the proceeds from this business of providing a substance that everyone needs. In a non-tax-reliant, self-funded department.

You'd think so, wouldn't you?

But you have to remember this important part of the equation. This is a governmental department. And government equates to politics.

And that's where it gets sticky.

The other departments in our county government, the ones you remember I mentioned earlier, that require taxes to function? Well, they're hurting. Revenues are down so a lot of belt-tightening has occurred. And more is expected. At least that's what our management is telling us. They say we should expect more decreases in funding in the future. And we all should “help out” our employer by thinking up ways to save some money.

They're even presenting a veiled threat of future layoffs if things don't improve in the future.

And this is a blanket statement for all of the county departments. All of them.

And what's odd about all of this is that our department is now also hurting, at least per our management it is. Apparently due to reduced new construction resulting in reduced new water hookup fees and the need to “pay down our debt”.

I may be wrong, but I thought it was the responsibility of management to make informed, learned decisions about budgeting and to not make expenditures and incur debt that would be dependent on continued urban growth in the future. To be wise about incurring debt that only a rosy future would be sufficient enough to pay off.

Apparently this did not happen. Apparently, somehow, someone dropped the ball. Apparently we now have to pay off debts from expected monies that did not come in for expenditures that, possibly, might not have to have been made. Or could have been postponed until a more stabile economic period arrived.

And that's a doggone shame.

So I look at the net pay numbers on my paycheck and see the same ones I saw last month, the month before and the year before. I've pulled out the old ones and looked. Yep, same numbers.

And I look at the prices at the grocery stores and they are not the same as last year. The prices at the restaurants aren't the same as last year. The prices at Walmart and Kmart and Lowe's aren't the same as last year. And the prices at the gas pump? Holy-Aunt-Petunia-in-a-shoe-shine-box... they are definitely not the same as last year.

And the hole we're in keeps getting deeper and deeper.

And that's a doggone shame, too.

A Quick Trip North

A Quick Trip North

7/26/11
On Tuesday, my wife, son and I embarked on a short vacation. After dropping our dog off at the kennel, we left home about 9:30 am and drove toward Canfield, Ohio where we were to visit with my cousin Lorraine and her husband John at their home. It was a beautiful day, sunny, with temperatures in the 80’s. The three of us hadn’t had a vacation together for a number of years as my son’s work had kept him from joining us in recent years, so it was interesting and kind of a treat having the whole family together on this one.

The drive to Canfield was uneventful and we arrived around 11:30 am. It’s always a treat to see my cousin and her husband John. They are gracious hosts and are always glad to see us. This time they extended their hospitality to my son and for that I was grateful. We sat and talked in their kitchen as Lorraine worked on our lunch, stirring this pot, adding ingredients to that one, checking on things. The dish she was preparing was to be something she got from a friend and involved pasta and various other tasty ingredients. Soon freshly shucked ears of sweet corn were bubbling in a big pot and not long after that the meal was ready to eat. Lorraine’s mother lives with them, so there was six of us sitting down in their dining room for lunch. Along with the delicious pasta dish there was the sweet corn, coleslaw, bread and a lemon drink Lorraine is fond of. For dessert she’d made a yellow cake with an icing incorporating bits of citrus fruit. It was quite good.

After lunch we talked some more about our family’s history and laughed at funny incidents we recounted to each other. My son Tony was enthralled with hearing all the historical facts of the family of which he was unaware. Talking with Lorraine and John is always a treat and the hours flew by effortlessly.

Not long after lunch, Lorraine’s daughter Cindy and her husband Mike and their daughter Megan visited us. Cindy and Mike were on their way to Heinz Field in Pittsburgh to see a concert by U2 and had stopped by to drop their daughter off and to say hi to us. They could only stay a short time, but we were able to chitchat a bit and renew our friendship. We wished them well on their visit to the concert and expressed our jealousy at their good fortune to see the group U2 and their lead singer Bono. We found out later that the concert was marvelous and they had enjoyed themselves immensely.

Not long after Mike and Cindy left we bid our hosts adieu ourselves and pointed our car north toward our first day’s final destination - Erie, Pennsylvania.

We arrived in Erie and found our hotel for the evening, the Country Inn and Suites. It was a quite new and beautiful hotel and we were quite pleased with our room. After checking in, Judy and I headed out to do a little geocaching and we ended up getting the six caches I had selected from home. Six for six and a new state! We were quite pleased. Tony stayed at the hotel and watched a little TV. After returning to the hotel and picking him up we went to Quaker Steak & Lube for supper. This is a regional restaurant that specializes in chicken wings and most of their restaurants reflect the décor of the original one, which resembles a gas station. We had a good supper and then drove a couple miles down the interstate to Presque Isle Downs & Casino. We knew that Lorraine and John had frequented the place in the past and we’d asked for tips on which slots to play. They recommended hitting a group of slots just inside the entrance. We did so and I was pleasantly surprised to hit a small jackpot on one almost immediately for $57. Judy and Tony weren’t quite as lucky. We didn’t stay long as we hadn’t budgeted much money for the casino and were through that amount quite quickly. Counting my win we walked out about even between us. We were back to the hotel before 11 o’clock and retired shortly afterward.

7/27/11
We ate breakfast at the hotel’s free buffet and it was quite acceptable. Some hotels are little more than doughnuts, bagels and coffee/juice with the odd apple or banana thrown in. This one was one of the better ones with waffles, boiled eggs, cereal, lots of bakery, drinks and coffees. Even some precooked sausage patties and pancakes. We were pleased. Afterward we drove along Lake Erie northeastward. We stopped at the Angola Rest Stop on the Thomas E. Dewey New York Expressway for a restroom break and to grab another geocache. Now we had another new state, New York! Wonderful! We continued onward toward Buffalo and crossed the Niagara River on the Peace Bridge into Canada. Canadian customs looked at our passports and asked some questions about our trip to their country. It wasn’t too trying and the wait in line wasn’t too long. We then drove to Old Ft. Erie. This was one of the most important forts during the War of 1812. The fort itself and the grounds have been remade to reflect exactly how it was in 1814 when the bloody battles between the British and the United States in the area were fought. The visitor’s center nearby is brand new, just having been opened weeks before our visit. We toured the fort and took lots of pictures. Judy and I had been there about 4 or 5 years ago and were pleased at all the renovations that had been done to the land, adding earthworks and revetments to reflect the area during the battles, since we were there last. Tony seemed impressed. After touring we ate a little ice cream in the visitor’s center (Tony passed on the ice cream – he was feeling a little queasy – maybe the sun or maybe a little low blood sugar) and grabbed some lunch at a local McDonald’s. I always like to eat the native food when I’m visiting a new place. Joke! I was reminded that I was in a foreign land by the price of lunch. The price itself in Canadian dollars was quite a bit higher than the U.S. price, plus the exchange rate is unfavorable to U.S. citizens. But the food was OK and we filled the empty spots in our stomachs.

We then drove about 20 miles north to Lock Number 3 on the Welland Canal. The Welland Canal is the route that all the ship traffic from and to Lakes Erie and Ontario use. We watched a big grain boat, about 282 meters long, traverse the lock. She was going toward Ontario, so she went down in the lock. Tony was feeling better by now and enjoyed the sights. We even saw a Schnauzer dog that reminded us of our old one, Bailey, and again took pictures and movies.

We then drove to our hotel for the evening, the Best Western Rose City Suites in St. Catharines, where we checked in and were happy with the lodgings. We got a suite this time with a living room, kitchenette and bedroom. Tony was happiest there as he could stay up that night and watch TV while his ol’ parents snoozed. Judy and I went out looking for caches and did quite poorly. But we were able to find one and that gave us a new country and a Canadian province to boot to add to our tally. Quite acceptable! The weather was still nice although the clouds were beginning to move in and the weather would soon be rainy.

We ate supper at a quirky restaurant recommended by the hotel staff called M.T. Bellies. We smiled at the play on words of the restaurant’s title. She said they had “everything” there and she was right. Very busy place and great food. We all had something quite different and were all pleased. Our waiter gave indications that he might be of the gay persuasion and his speech and humor amused us. A nice guy, a nice restaurant and a nice dinner.

While we were out caching, Judy and I visited a nearby park and while there saw what looked to be a living room arrangement near a rose garden. With a gentleman sitting on the sofa! When we approached the furniture we saw the couch, two easy chairs, the coffee table and the gentleman sitting on the couch were all made out of bronze. It was all metal! Fascinating. We took Tony to see the thing after supper and he was amused also. Apparently, from the placard displayed near the statuary, the gentleman was the owner of a famous furniture store and was a big donor to the city or maybe he bequeathed the park? Something like that. He apparently was a well-known citizen of St. Catharines, Ontario.

After supper and returning to the hotel we eyeballed the pictures we’d taken during the day and retired around 11 pm. Tony watched TV until sometime later.

7/28/11
We ate at the free hotel buffet again for breakfast. It was quite good also. Our run of luck is continuing. We were on the road not long after eating as the rain started. Our drive up the QEW (the Queen Elizabeth Way – a main interstate-like road in Canada) toward Toronto was fairly unpleasant with lots of rain, fog and much road spray from the tons of semis on the road. Some areas were barely moving, especially around the big bridge at the west end of Lake Ontario. And there was LOTS of traffic on the highway. Apparently there’s a whole lot of commerce going on in Canada and lots of stuff that needs moved from “here” to “there” on semis.

We were able to see about half of the iconic CN Tower in Toronto as we drove by due to the low cloud deck and rain. We were heading to the Royal Ontario Museum and found a parking garage about two blocks beyond it. Of course the garage we found was probably the most expensive one in Toronto. My luck. It was under the Hazelton Lanes Shopping Centre, one of the classiest places to shop in the city, apparently. It was $25 out of my pocket before the gate would let us leave later that day.

We walked through the light rain to the museum and, after a half-hour wait or so were in. There were LOTS of visitors to the museum that day and a substantial majority of them were children on various field trips. Perhaps Canada has year-round school? I don’t know. But there were GOBS of kids and they all seemed to be screaming, yelling, jumping up and down or running around underfoot. I seriously would recommend taking earplugs if you were thinking of visiting there. Extremely noisy, especially around the stuffed animal exhibits.

There is way too much to see at the museum for a day trip, so we skimmed through this gallery and that, taking pictures here and there and occasionally movies. The last exhibit we went through was the dinosaur one, of which the R.O.M has a good one. Lots of bones and lots of big beasts from the Jurassic. (I remember that period from the movie, of course!) Tony was again feeling woozy and again, by eating lunch, felt better. I don’t think he had enough breakfast. That meal was in the museum’s lunchroom. I had a burger with tomato and pickled onions. Quite a different taste. And, of course, it was expensive.

We gave up in the late afternoon and made our way back to our high-class parking garage. Traffic at 4 pm was, to our provincial eyes, horrendous. Busy, busy, busy. The surface streets were barely moving and the highways were either packed and slow or screamingly fast and scary in the extreme. We reached our new hotel, the Best Western Toronto Airport, eventually, with white knuckles from all the traffic and checked in. Another good one. We all took a catnap to recharge from the walking and eventually drove to a restaurant for supper. This was my choice and it wasn’t a particularly a good one. It was a Texas Longhorn. But the Canadian version isn’t like the U.S. one which we were familiar with. Mediocre food, at least mine was. Tony and Judy seemed OK with theirs. Maybe it was just my poor choice in my entrée.

We returned to the hotel afterward and I went to the exercise room for a half-hour or so. I didn’t really need the treadmill since we’d done all that walking at the museum, but used it anyhow. Also did some back exercises as I’d been neglecting them this week and was starting to hurt a bit. It seemed to help. I probably should have used the pool but was too tired to change into trunks.

Watched some TV before retiring and we all commented freely on the differences between Canadian TV and U.S. TV. Some things were very similar and others were quite different.

Sleep again around 11. All our beds on this trip were quite comfortable and we were thankful for that. We knew that Tony likes a very cold environment to sleep in, so we kept the rooms pretty cool. A bit too cool for us old folk, but we bundled up with the blankets and were OK.

7/29/11
Homeward bound. We ate breakfast at a Burger King near the hotel and started toward home around 9. Traffic was surprisingly not too bad and, although we had some off-and-on rain most of the trip home, it wasn’t as onerous as the trip up had been. Going through U.S. Customs was surprising quick after about a 45 minute to 1 hour wait in line. The customs agent was quick and only asked a couple questions. Quicker than going the other way had been. We were surprised at the quickness at the border as Judy’s boss had crossed just the previous week and had gone through a grilling. Guess it all depends on which agent you get and how much like a desperado you look. Judy’s boss must fit that bill more than we did! We stopped at the duty-free store before leaving Canada, bought some chocolate and a tee shirt for Tony. More to get rid of some of our Canadian dollars than any real need. We’re not big drinkers and that’s why most people stop at the store apparently. LOTS of folks buying up LOTS of various liquors.

The rest of the drive home was uneventful.

We were glad to return home and retrieve our dog from the kennels. He was glad to see us, too, by the furious wagging of his stumpy tail! The groomer who had watched him said he’d enjoyed his little vacation from us also.

To conclude, I guess you could say that a good time was had by all, mostly. But, as is true for most endeavors, there were some really good times and some fairly good times. And, occasionally, there were some maybe not so good times. But those were infrequent and easily forgettable.

If this were an Olympic event, I’d have scored it an 8.8 out of 10.

And thus concludes the tale of the short trip north.

Fish, Wizards and Dogs

Fish, Wizards and Dogs

I suppose you could say with some certainty that nothing really lasts forever and you'd be a hundred percent accurate in your statement. But, in your heart of hearts you always hope that some things would last forever. Or even just a shade this side of forever. Or maybe through next Tuesday? Even some dumb little things.

Let me give you an example.

As I've written about in the past, on most Fridays my wife and I eat lunch at a local restaurant which is only a short walk from our house. We can get there in 7 to 10 minutes, depending on how long a stride we take and how energetic we feel at the time. I usually walk, as I'm home during the lunch hour and my wife usually drives from work and meets me there. We go there, at least I go there, for the fish. Like a lot of restaurants, this one serves a fish special on Fridays. I guess that's a holdover from the old days when the Catholics had meatless Fridays. I happen to like fish so I'm happy for the holdover if that's what it is. Anyway, this restaurant serves your basic cornmeal battered whitefish fillets, french fries, slaw, roll/butter. And, over the years that we've been eating there, I've grown accustomed to the good fish that the restaurant serves. Do I eat their fish every week? No. You get jaded after a while, so I break it up with a club sandwich occasionally or maybe a roast beef sandwich of which they make a pretty decent one.

But fish is the primary draw for me.

But recently, sadly, it hasn't been quite the meal I remember. Last Friday, for example, the fish was definitely sub-par. I guess you could be generous and say it was edible. But it wasn't the juicy-centered, flaky, crunchy-coated yummy piece of fish it used to be. It was bad enough that I asked to have one of the fillets replaced. It was thin, tough and more resembled a piece of fish jerky. Overcooked? Definitely. Way, way, way over cooked. Perhaps a poorer fillet than what they normally serve? I think so. I was immediately given two new fresh fillets to replace the objectionable one when the owner saw my hand motions indicating a problem. And, to sadly tell the truth, the two replacements weren't all that much better. One, which was OK at best I ate. The other I left.

My wife and I are Friday regulars there and are treated like family. Our drink orders are brought without our having to state what we want, we know most of the wait staff's names and the owner's also. We're on friendly terms with everyone and we genuinely like going there. But recently... There is that less-than-optimal fish to contemplate. And last Friday wasn't the first time. I've decided to have a chat with the owner the next time this happens. I am generally known as an easily satisfied man. Most things are fine with me. If things are a little better or sometimes a little worse – I don't generally worry. But... if I am noticing a deterioration in the quality of the fish, I'll bet others are too. And I surely don't want the place to go downhill.

Like I said earlier, they're almost family!

So maybe they got a bad batch from the supplier. Maybe the oil in the fryer needed changed. Maybe it was a new fry cook or that particular day the fry cook was not 100 percent and left the fish in too long. Maybe a lot of stuff. So that's why I won't worry too much about it. But I think we might patronize another restaurant next Friday. No offense old friend, but I want a little time to recuperate from the “fish jerky”.

In a week or two I'm sure we'll go back. I'll pay attention to the fish on other patron's plates on my way to my table and make a decision then whether to try it again.

But how many chances do you give a place before it starts becoming not your favorite Friday place?

Stand by for more news later on this alarming story.

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I went to see the latest Harry Potter movie on Saturday night. I am happy to report that the movie was GREAT and it met all my expectations for the culmination of the series. Now I know there are those of you out there that are not Harry Potter fans and could give a flying whatever about the end of the series. So go ahead and skip on down to the next topic. That's OK. I need to talk to my wizard-loving friends for a minute. I'll meet you down below shortly.

My wife, my son and I have been “on board” with the young wizard from the first get go, have read all the books and seen all the movies. We anticipated the release of each book and each movie and happily read and watched them as appropriate. So I guess you could call us fans. So be it. Fan or not, the movie was, as I said earlier, great! The only negative I could communicate to you would be that that this is the last one. No more Hogwarts, no more Harry, Ron, Hermione. No more Hagrid, Dumbledore, Snape and all the other fascinating characters from the fertile imagination of J.K. Rowling and the awesome abilities of the actors who have portrayed them. No more watching the principal characters grow from bright children through their awkward teen years into fascinating young adults.

We're surely going to miss them. And, from the box-office returns, so are a lot of other folks!

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Took a drive on Sunday down to Wheeling, West Virginia to visit Wheeling Island Casino and Racetrack. Over the past few years we've grown to enjoy going to the greyhound races there and trying to guess which of the marvelous dogs were going to be the fastest in each race. I like to think that, with the help of the racing form and all the statistics that are displayed there, I can calculate what the winners will be a majority of the time. Sometimes my calculations seem to be “on the money” and I'll pocket a dollar or two. But, sadly, the majority of the time the pups in the races have ideas of their own and decide to finish the race in wildly different order than I anticipated. I guess that's one of the draws. Man against dog or something like that. As I always say, at least you don't have to factor in a jockey on the back of the dogs! They do their thing all alone.

As usual when the wife and I go there, one of us is usually “up” at the end of the races and the other one is “down”. Sunday was my turn to be down. Not terribly down, but definitely down. She played all the races on her original $10 and cashed out $14. Four hours of fun and she got paid for it! We shared the afternoon with two of our friends from where I work, so it was even more fun than it usually was. We ate at the casino buffet after the dog races and were pleasantly surprised at the increase in quality of the food there. They'd redecorated and obviously upped the food budget. We then paid our obligatory visit to Mr. and Mrs. One-Armed-Bandit. They were more than happy to see us and to closely examine the color of our money. We thoroughly enjoy playing the slot machines but almost never come out ahead. Sunday was no different. We wandered through the maze of blinking, shiny machines, each of which was singing that familiar slot machine tune. We tried out a number of them. Some were tight and kept about everything we gave them. Others were a bit more generous and teased us a bit with smaller jackpots. In the end we bid them farewell along with the dollars we'd allocated to our fun. I'm again always thankful that we don't have any addiction to the activity and are quite content to walk away when our budget for the day has been met.

A quiet drive back home capped the festivities for the weekend.

So now it's time to get heavily involved in last-minute planning for our 4-day escape to Canada. Stay tuned for developments!

Visits and Plans

Visits and Plans

Once again it's been way too long since I spent some time on the keyboard and put together another edition of my notoriously intermittent blog. I probably shouldn't even call it a blog anymore. The word blog seems to describe, at least to me, a piece of writing that is frequently written. The term frequently has to be very loosely applied to describe this one. Oh well, for better or worse, let's keep the name and get on with the key-pounding and word-making.

Last Wednesday an dear friend of ours flew back to Ohio from her home in the deserts of Arizona. Sadly, she came back to initiate the process of moving her mother into an assisted care living facility. But before actually starting that process, she has to go through the preceding process of convincing her mom that this procedure is necessary, even vital. Apparently the older woman has fallen down a number of times and has been unable to get back up off the floor. This has necessitated calls to the emergency squad and to other nearby people to lend a hand. The fear, of course, is that she will fall and be unable to summon help. It is no longer a question of if this will happen, only when. It's inevitable. In an assisted living facility this problem would be eliminated. I don't envy Pam this duty she's undertaking. It's can't be easy doing what she has to do. But I agree with her that it's totally necessary, even if very difficult.

Pam took time out from her discussions with her mother and other obligations she needed to take care of to visit us on Sunday. We picked her up at her mom's place in the early afternoon and took her home with us as she had no car this time. We sat and did some old-fashioned visiting for a number of hours, laughing and talking about our lives and what's been happening since the last time we visited with each other. We commiserated on each others aches and pains from the inexorable process of aging and viewed each others battle scars. Pam had made her trip back sans husband this time. He's recuperating from a shoulder surgery and had remained in Arizona. It was a shame as my wife and I liked Ray and missed his company. He's a corker! Pam also is in recovery mode from a recent surgery. Or perhaps I should say surgeries. She's had both knees replaced recently (and a shoulder not that long ago) and is in the middle of the recovery periods for both of them. She is suffering perhaps more than the average recipient of new knees as she also suffers from fibromyalgia and one of the variants of rheumatism. She always impresses me (and did again) with her fighting spirit even though her body is wracked with miseries. Her startlingly blue eyes, always Pam's best feature, seemed to say I may be down for this round, but there's plenty of fight in this old girl! I halfway expected more of a convalescent than what we actually saw. She was surprisingly spry and agile for someone in recovery from her recent episodes with her orthopedic surgeon. Now I surely don't mean she was ready for a marathon. Far from it. But her disposition was totally upbeat. She even surprised us by emphatically stating that she needed to walk that day, for therapy and to maintain the gains she'd made so far, and we acquiesced by strolling around a nearby park for a half hour or so. She did quite well on that hot day and made an entire circuit of the park before finishing.

We were quite proud of her! She was actually in better shape than our poor old dog who suffered greatly from the heat of the day as he walked along with us in the park.

On returning from our perambulations we returned home to our conversations and more catching up. She related more stories about her family and their ups and downs and we reciprocated with some stories of our own. After a while we admitted to ourselves that we were getting hungry, so we drove up to a nice restaurant in town and had an early supper.

And while I was there I had a thought.

Several weeks ago my wife and I had made plans to visit with another couple down in Wheeling, West Virginia at the Casino/Racetrack on Wheeling Island. This would be next Sunday. Since Pam was going to be still in Ohio then, we asked if she'd like to accompany us there. She wasn't sure if she could, but promised to call and let us know later in the week. We made sure she knew that she wasn't obligated to do it. We know her health was a bit iffy and we surely didn't want to overtire her. So we'll see if she can.

Pam has plans to return to Ohio in late August or early September with her husband in their motor home for a longer visit. They intend to finalize her mom's move to the assisted living facility and to take a longer vacation that has been denied them recently by their respective surgeries. So if she cannot join us at the greyhound track this coming Sunday, it's almost a certainty that they will be able to when they return.

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In a little less than two weeks, my wife, my son and myself are planning to take a short trip. When my son was four years old, we took him on his first vacation up to Toronto, Canada. He enjoyed himself immensely as a little kid but remembers little to nothing of it now. So we thought that might make an interesting trip to take again now that he's almost 30. We'll first visit my dear cousin Lorraine up in Canfield, Ohio. She's never seen my son and we're glad we can bring him to see her at last. Then we're planning on visiting Ft. Erie across the Niagara River from Buffalo, watching the ore boats locking through the Welland Canal on the Niagara Peninsula and also visiting one of the premier museums in Canada, the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. He saw it as a toddler but obviously doesn't remember. I think it'll be cool to see it again, too. Just a 3-night, 4-day trip to visit a friendly relative and our friendly neighbors to the north. Plus to get a change of scenery for us. To maybe blow off a little dust and to stretch our muscles. And of course, as loyal readers of this blog will recall, to find some geocaches in the new states and country we'll be in.

Wish us all luck for the upcoming weeks.

Blank Brains and Bug Bites

Blank Brains and Bug Bites

For today's musing, lemme talk to the guys for a couple minutes, if I may. You ladies may read on, of course – you're always welcome - but let me hunker down with the males for a bit.

Did you guys ever have someone walk up to you and ask what's on your mind? Or say, “A penny for your thoughts?” Or have your spouse say, “What're ya thinkin' about, honey?” These queries seem to be invariably posed by a women. And you almost always turn to them and answer, “nothing.”

And mean it?

I know this a subject for stand-up comedians and we've all probably heard variations on this theme – how guys usually aren't thinking about anything and women are always thinking about stuff. Always. At least I know I have.

And I think there's way more than a grain of truth to the jokes and stories on this subject. You see, there are vast stretches of time where I'm not really thinking about anything at all! Nothing. Nada. Zip. Most every day. Oh, yes, there are some lights still burning in there. This is where I live and I gotta keep the machinery working and all that stuff. But actual thoughts? Naw, not really.

Maybe it would behoove me at this point in time to break down brain activity, at least my brain activity, into two categories. High-level and low-level. High level brain activity could be defined as where I'm actively speaking to myself, mentally, in English words, or working on a solution to a problem, or actively planning something, or learning something. If I'm trying to write a blog, like I'm doing right now, that takes a lot of high-level thought. Putting words together coherently, phrasing, deciding whether I want to talk about this now or that now. In what sequence I want to put my thoughts. How is the flow going and am I done with my present topic.

That's, to me, fairly high level.

Am I in that mode all the time? Of course not. If I hit high-level an hour or two a day that's probably about par for the course. The rest of the time? Low level. Just on cruise control. Just basic maintenance stuff – hungry/not hungry, thirsty/not thirsty, hot/cold, tired/energetic, sleepy/awake. Make the muscles do this or that. Eat. Doze. Maybe I've got an ear-bug and am hearing a song repeat over and over. Maybe I'm just in receive mode and am just soaking up the environment without making any judgments or internal dialog. Or reading and letting the words just soak in without pondering them. Or listening to music and just grooving. Or watching TV, the old mind number itself.

Or just in a pleasant fog with nothing much going on at all.

These low level thoughts, if thoughts they really are, generally are short and unfocused. They don't generate any spark or response and come and go like a variable breeze on a summer day. Oh, and sex of course. Gotta mention that. That crosses the male mind... fairly often I'd say. Maybe not every seven seconds, or fifteen seconds, or five minutes, or... well, you fill in the number. The rumor mill abounds with assertions on how often it happens. Suffice it to say, from personal observations, it's fairly often.

I have no idea whether this high-low thing is genetic, or something to do with the Y chromosome or possibly both sexes do it. But if women go low-level, they don't seem to talk about it much. At least that I can recall. When you ask them what they're thinking about, they'll tell ya!

So when a woman asks a man what he's thinking about and he says, “nothing”, you can generally take that answer to the bank.

He's telling the truth.

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I can be really, really stupid some days if I set my mind to it. And those episodes of stupidity invariably lead to unpleasant consequences. Always. I've been lucky that most of the consequences I've been subjected to, at least recently, haven't been in the life-threatening category, but there is usually some uncomfortable debt to be paid.

For instance...

Last week I went geocaching with my wife. We do this a lot in the summer time, usually on weekends when we can get together. On Sunday last week we headed out to search for a dozen caches or so. One of the first ones that we looked for was about a half-mile down a paved bike/hike trail in the county just south of our home. Since my wife had a buggered-up foot, she was basically just along for the ride. She didn't want to aggravate the injury, so she just sat in the car while I went searching. Like I said, one of the first caches to be found was down this paved trail, then off the trail a hundred yards into the bush, across a small creek and up a slight embankment. It was late spring and the woods that the trail passed through were beautiful with the trees all in full leaf, the birds singing, the air quite warm and the sun beaming down. We'd had a lot of rain the previous weeks and it was great seeing a day with no rain for a change. When I'd traversed the first half-mile, left the paved trail and started back into the bush area, I realized that I had forgotten to perform an action that I knew I should have performed.

I'd neglected to spray myself with bug dope.

I looked back down the long trail I had just walked. That'd be another mile or so and, as lovely as the day was I didn't want to have to walk that far again. So I decided I'd just get this one and spray myself when I got back to the car. Since we'd had so much rain recently, the insect population in the bushes was plentiful and joyfully waiting for me. The mosquitoes were thick and very, very hungry. I spent some long minutes swatting the blood-suckers while searching for the “treasure”. And ruing my lapse in preparation. Finally I found the cache, signed the logbook and returned to the main trail and thence back to the car. I was scratching a number of skeeter bites the whole way and mentally kicking myself for stupidity.

The rest of the day was similar but I was heavily lathered with repellent for those quests.

Unfortunately there were more vermin in the bushes on that fine Sunday afternoon than just mosquitoes. The next day I found myself itching again and I examined where the sensations were coming from. I found a number of reddish blotches and immediately identified them. They weren't mosquito bites. I'd got into some chiggers again.

Rats!

I'd had chigger bites in the past and knew I had a number of days to come where I'd be one miserable son-of-a-gun. And I have been. It's been about 5 days since the “infestation” and the incessant itching from the miserable little bumps is starting to ease off now.

Almost.

And so I guess I have to say, once again, lesson learned. Of course I said it the last time I got chigger bit.

Maybe if my brain wasn't in low-level all the time I'd have applied some high-level bug dope before leaving the house!

The Hunger

The Hunger

I finished my dinner tonight, laid down my fork, took a last swig of the soda I was drinking and then looked around. I felt like I was still hungry. Sort of. I thought about what I'd just eaten and realized that I shouldn't be hungry. I'd had more than enough food. But... Dammit. I felt like I was still hungry. But, for what? I had some fruit and yogurt for later in the evening. Didn't need it now. Didn't want it now.

Then I realized what I was hungry for. I hate to admit it and I hate to have to admit it.

I wanted a cigarette. Sure as hell, a cigarette would taste just fine right about now.

Let me collect my thoughts for a moment while I take a couple deep breaths.

OK, let's continue.

To begin with, you have to realize that I'd quit smoking over 20 years ago. More like 22 or thereabouts. I haven't taken one puff since then. Not one. I know myself and I know how damn hard it was to get off them. I can even recall the process that I went through to get that particular monkey off my back like it was yesterday.

I'd tried to quit a number of times. I really did. Tried cutting down. Tried the gum. Tried cold turkey. And also tried most of the other ways that were in vogue two decades ago. Nothing worked. I always returned to the comforts of my old friend tobacco. I finally had a conversation with a man with whom I worked who'd quit by using the patch. I knew the guy and I knew he smoked LOTS more than I did. He was a veritable chimney! And he'd quit using the smoke-cessation patch.

So I thought, if him, why not me?

At my next visit to my doctor I told him I wanted give the patch a try. It was a prescription item back in those days. He was a bit hesitant as my other attempts had ended so ignominiously. But he acquiesced and wrote me the script.

I remember the day I quit. I'd picked a day about a week after I had visited the drugstore and had the patches in hand. I had a little less than a pack of cigarettes left at the end of the day before, so I smoked one more before going to sleep and pitched the rest into the trash. I think I slipped a patch on before going to bed so I'd keep my nicotine level up. I woke up the next morning and suddenly remembered that I had quit.

It wasn't the best morning of my life.

First off just let me say that it was really, really weird. I won't say my life before that day revolved around smoking but, when I actually thought about it, I realized that yes, it did.

The feeling was exactly like a dear friend had died. That's honestly how it felt.

That day and for many days afterward my body was being delivered a dose of nicotine by the patch on my arm. But the patch was just an alternate delivery system. My normal delivery system, the big hit from a cigarette, was no longer available. Come to think of it, weird doesn't even begin to describe it. The psychological crutch that smoking is was gone and I had to “walk” without that crutch. I remember that one of the oddest part about those first few weeks was how strange my hands felt. I had realized that there is a lot of ritual involved with smoking. The handling of the cigarette, the lighter, the motions involved with smoking it, flicking the ashes, blowing out the smoke, putting out the butt. Etc. and etc.

My hands felt huge and useless hanging on the bottom of my arms. They had nothing to do! A large part of their previous life had been involved with the rituals of smoking.

And those rituals were now gone.

I made sure my patch was changed at exactly the correct times. I knew that my body still needed the drug and I knew that was the only way it was going to get it. I was crabby, I admit. Maybe more than I like to recall. I'm sure my wife and son could add some side notes here on my behavior during those weeks and months. The addiction to nicotine is powerful, more powerful than that of cocaine according to some accounts, and it had its claws in me deep. But I soldiered onward. I chewed on toothpicks by the boxful. And ate carrots and celery until I could hardly look at them. Anything to keep my mouth and hands busy while the bad habits of many, many years slowly dissolved. Over time the strength of the patches decreased and finally, one day I peeled the last one off. I was free!

But to say the urge was gone would be untrue. I missed smoking pretty much every day. I did finally get to the point where the smell of someone else smoking was starting to be a bit unpleasant. But that came a couple years after quitting. Before that the smell of smoke was still intoxicating, still a siren's call. I'd go out with friends who still smoked and sit downwind from them to make sure I got a whiff of their smoke. But I knew to never touch one. That'd lead to another and another and... I'd be a smoker again at once. Couldn't chance it.

So I've been off the drug for a couple decades. And the urge to smoke is gone. Or, to be honest, almost gone.

But... But... Every now and again my mind or my body remembers. And it remembers how simply marvelous a cigarette tasted after my evening meal. How it provided an end cap to the meal and satisfied a hunger than wasn't satisfied by food no matter how much you ate.

And that is what I think I was missing tonight.

Of course I'd never dream of getting a smoke now. That'd be ludicrous after all those years. Besides being incredibly expensive compared to what I used to pay.

But that ol' urge likes to pop up now and again. It likes to step in the door and say, Hello my old friend. How are you doing? How about you and I going down memory lane for a bit, just for old time's sake. And while we're there, how about a smoke?

So I sit here and smile at my old desires kicking in. I imagine the silky feel of the cigarette between my fingers, I hear the distinctive sound a cigarette lighter makes as the flame jets out, I hear the hiss of the tobacco as it feels the heat of the fire, the blue-gray smoke curling up from the glowing tip and swirling in the air currents. I imagine the feel of the dense smoke as it slides down my throat and how the smooth bite of the smoke feels as it goes into my lungs. And I can still feel the kick of the smoke as it hits all the needy spots in my body, lighting up all the receptors and feeling so damn good.

It's almost pornographic to imagine!

And tonight, as the minutes pass, I feel the urge die away. It always does now. Always. There's really no need for the drama anymore. That stuff is way, way in the past.

Uh-huh. Sure...

I remember my father saying something in his last year of life. He said that if he knew he was going to die sometime soon, he'd start smoking again. That day. And he'd been off cigarettes for many, many years at that time.

He missed it that much.

I remembered his words.

I hope I never say them.

But I still remember them.

I still remember.