Saturday, May 30, 2009

I See Dead People

Okay, this is a rather maudlin blog entry, but I really can't help it as we are going to a funeral today. Being out of town for a funeral was one of the reasons I thought I'd not be able to blog until tomorrow; however, the hazelnut coffee & bagel from Pan-o-rama have been consumed, the dogs have been walked, the poop has been pooped....and, I find myself with a few moments to write about seeing dead people.

Literally seeing dead people.

(Side note: wasn't "The Six Sense" a great movie? Seeing dead people like Bruce Willis also counts in the I See Dead People Department.)

(Side side note: Grover is featured here as I am told a guy named Grover is my spirit guide and thus he is technically a dead person so the Muppet gets to represent the dead people of the worlds of which you believe.)

BTW, please know that I mean no disrespect to the dead or to those of you who have suffered a recent loss despite my snarky comments in this blog entry. If you've suffered a recent loss, this might be a good time to stop reading this blog (I can't believe I just wrote that--I never want to "turn away" a reader) and go get some chocolate.

We went to the wake last night. When I think about it, I find wakes to be a really weird thing--you get dressed up, travel to where ever you need to travel, meet a bunch of people in some musty, tacky funeral home and stand in front of a dead person, who is dead and usually wearing something they probably wouldn't be wearing if they were alive and are holding some religious paraphernalia whether or not they were religious as an upright human being. You then stand around and socialize with people (who are in their Sunday best) that you haven't seen in years and/or who you don't know. You never know exactly what to say to the family and you know nothing you say will really help, anyways and so you say something lame like, "I'm so sorry for your loss." In the mean time, the person is still dead and usually not looking so good at all.

We won't even talk about the whole embalming thing.

Wakes are a staple of the communities of which I was born into--they are a rather normal part of the culture to which we know. I suppose it's a nice thing to give people a chance to pay their respects. I suppose it's good for closure and that it is another step in the grieving process. It certainly gives family a chance to connect and to support each other. I have to admit I was very thankful for the wake when Harvey (my client with schizophrenia and cancer) died; it gave me a moment of relief to know she was finally done with all that horrible suffering and she actually looked awesome, despite being quite dead.

As good wake attendees, we gave our condolences to the family and then waddled up to the casket. I embarrassingly confess that my first thought (of which I feel really bad), is "woof! She doesn't even look like herself," but then I remember I haven't seen her in years and she might actually look as she looked just a few short days ago. We then went on and socialized and generally had a good time. It was not a direct relative, so I think that made it even easier to have a good time while surrounded by familiar and not so familiar faces.

I assume today's funeral will NOT be such a good time, as funerals seem to be much more emotional, painful, draining and final. It's one thing to be in the room with the beloved dead person--it's another to see that casket top close and know that's the last time you will see that person (well, on Earth--depending on your views of the after life).

Me? Fry me up and toss me on a softball field. I don't want people staring at my dead body. I don't want people thinking, "man, she looks like shit!" I don't want to be embalmed (which is not required at all in the state of which I reside) because I want to be fried to ashes before I even get close to be in need of being embalmed and it's just a total waste of money to embalm someone who is being cremated. I don't want to get stuck in some dress and make-up. Cremate me and skip the wake. Go out and party. Go eat some ice cream. Say nice things if you'd like. Say not-so-nice things if it will help you. Go out to the softball field and sprinkle me around third base. Make fun of how slow a base runner I was or how I couldn't catch a pop-up. Don't waste your money on some fancy casket--get me a disposable one made for cremation. Use the money you save to buy a new car or some other fabulous parting gift.

In other words: Remember me alive, not dead.

(Of course, I am putting out the thought that you won't have to worry about any of this in regards to me for at least 50 more years. I am certainly in NO hurry to get to this point of my life. Keep remembering me alive because I am alive and blogging about morose topics like funerals.)

And so, we are off to the funeral.
We'll be respectful, we'll be supportive and we'll stand with with our family members. (Side note: I will think of Harvey. You really should go back and read my blog entries about Harvey as she deserves much respect, credit, compassion and love.) Catholic mass (yum!), followed by a procession to the cemetery. After the grief and pain of those whose loved one is "moving on," we'll go out to eat with all the other mourners and things will return just a bit to normal. And, we will no longer see dead people for this particular moment.

Unless you are Grover or Moriah, who sees dead people for a living. That's a whole 'nother ball game. Remember--you put me in a casket and have a wake, Moriah the Medium is gonna tell you I am one pissed off bitch.

Godspeed, Mama Mack. Please give my love to Harvey.

Friday, May 29, 2009

TGIF

Is it Friday already? These four days weeks really mess with my mind.

To be honest, dear reader, I have no time to blog today. But, that's not your problem. I wanted to make sure you still felt the love. I'm hoping to blog as usual on Sunday. Until then, pretend you are on this beach--unless you really ARE on this beach, then you won't have to pretend. (Why didn't you take me along if you are on this beach? Meany.)

So, until Sunday: TGIF. Woof!

Monday, May 25, 2009

Happy Memorial Daze

Well, another Memorial Day, another "let's paint a room" idea. I have no idea what it is about Memorial Day, but it always seems to make me want to paint a room.

It always sounds like such a good idea while lying on the couch.


This year, I decided I wanted to paint the bedroom blue. I love blue. The wife--not so much. But, with the purchase of a new white bed spread with blue trim, I knew I had a chance at a blue bedroom. My chances increased a million-fold when the color-match machine at Homo Depot indicated that my choice of blue paint was exactly the color of the bed spread trim. Score!

The wife stayed out of it.
She seemed to think that silence would absolve her of any wrong doing if the color sucked. (Last year's choice of color for the third bedroom looks like mint chocolate chip to me. I hate it. Didn't look anything like the stupid color swatch. I was hoping not to have two year's in a row bad color luck. The wife kinda likes it. I don't know how. I still lament choosing that color.)

We've learned over the years that we should not do home improvement projects together, as all we do is basically scream at each other. The wife tapes the room and gets out of the way (or, out of the house, which is the much better option). I paint like the dickens and then leave the mess. The wife returns to clean the mess and I leave the premises and find something better to do. Wa-la! No screaming.

I started painting the room and by the time I got done with the trim, I was thinking about what was I thinking when I decided I wanted to paint another room on a Memorial Day weekend. It was too late to stop or whine, so I kept on plugging along. Thankfully, I LOVED the color, which was very motivating during moments of wanting to poke my eyes out. I was also psyched that I only dripped on the carpet three times (well, three blobs big enough to see with the naked eye)... probably a new record for me. (I dropped the paintbrush once. That should count as at least two blobs, so make that four drips.)

The only real problem occurred when I realized I was not going to have enough paint. One gallon should have easily covered the whole room, but the walls seemed to just suck up the paint like there was no tomorrow. I kept thinking, "maybe I can make it," but then I'd look in the can and realize there was no way. I had to break the news to the wife, who would then have to return to Homo Depot and get another can....which would be way too much but there was nothing I could do. This had potential to lead to a fight, but somehow we just grumbled and she went grudgingly to the store while I kept on painting.

By the way, the dogs didn't whine this year like all the other years. Usually, they want to come in the room where I am painting. This is never a good idea, as evidenced by the traumatic "Lucy-in-the-paint-running-across-the-carpet" fiasco a few years back. (That was a VERY bad day, although it's really funny now.) For some reason, the dogs stayed away and were well behaved; in fact, they basically slept through the whole ordeal. Here they are, napping. Side note: Lucy's perch is really not a good idea, as she has permanently made a dent in the top of the good leather furniture. Maybe because Lucy's so cute we let her get away with it. Hard to say. It's so uncharacteristic of the wife to let this bad behavior continue. The Fatty Patty (aka Freckles) usually sleeps on the pillow to the right (so she can look out the window and act like a freak when something or someone walks by), but on this painting day, she found herself curled up on the left. It WAS a really befuckled day, I guess. I'm just glad they weren't whining and running through the paint.


The wife returned with gallon number two, just in time for me to run out of gallon number one. I finished the room in record time and bolted out the door the second the last speck of paint was rolled onto the wall. I went for a walk with MJagger while the wife cleaned up the mess I had left behind. (For the record, I love this arrangement.) By the time I got home, the beloved wife had everything cleaned and back in place. (I don't know how she moved the furniture by herself but she did. What a woman!) The only thing left to do was admire the color.

I love, love, love it.
LOVE! It's way better than ol' chocolate chip mint room; in fact, it's the exact, perfect color I have hoped for all these years of living in the house. Yum!

Fourteen years later, the only thing left to paint is the hallway/stairway. We are NOT looking forward to that due to the high ceilings over the stairs. I don't think we will be able to take on this task as we don't have scaffolding or the brain power to figure out a way to rig our few puny ladders in order to reach the very high places. We haven't decided on a color for that but we can argue about that when the time comes....which, I am hoping isn't until next Memorial Day.

After the hallway/stairway is done, I guess we start repainting the rooms we already painted, starting with the Master Bedroom--the room with painted walls that you can't tell we painted because the paint chip once again really didn't look like the color we painted on the walls--or, should I say lack of color we painted on the walls. But, that's at least two Memorial Days away, so I have plenty of time to lay on the couch and think about how much I like to paint.

Until then, I am just going to stare lovingly at the blue walls in the bedroom.

Happy Memorial Day to all. (And, just say no to painting on this holiday.)

****************************************************************
P.S. Congrats to Cheeseball Neighbor for being elected Coach of the Year. We are so proud to be your neighbor!
*****************************************************************

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Welcome to Mexi-louis
(that's mex-ee-loo-us)

Ha! Had you fooled! We weren't in town the whole week...we've been to Mexilouis and back!! To prove we were there, here is a sample of the local fare--yum! Artichoke, potato, mushroom, peppers & guacamole with vegetarian black beans. Yum squared!

Okay, so it's not Riviera Maya....

....but, nary a case of swine flu did we see in Mexi-louis.

The trip to Mexi-louis was a total success. No one threw up in the car, no one harmed anyone, the room was awesome, the activities were fun, there was no sun poisoning, the wife petted a stingray, I ate ice cream and we both enjoyed walking for miles to/from the zoo.


For those of you who don't exactly know where Mexi-louis is, let's see if you can figure it out from this photo:


















Sunny, warm, urban setting, giant Budweiser sign in the background. Hmmmm. America's favorite past-time. Think: Fukodome.

Maybe the hotel will help you figure it out:



Or, maybe not. Chances are you haven't heard of the Moonrise Hotel. (Yes, the moon on the top of the building does indeed slowly revolve.) The name worried the wife as she thought it sounded like a scary, seedy, dumpy place...but, that was far from any of those things. It was an awesome hotel--I give it five of five stars and I'm pretty brutal in the ranking department. I'd recommend anyone stay here, especially if you like eclectic places and have a hankerin' for a "W" kind of experience. I picked it out via the Internet--kind of like a crap shoot, but I thought it seemed like a great idea as it is located on "one of the top 10 streets in America" (I don't know who came up with the top 10 street list--it wasn't me) and because the description made the place sound awesome. Indeed, we found both the street and the hotel to be quite wonderful. Besides, it was right next to a bowling alley--what could be better?



I know, I know! A tattoo parlor down the block:


















Seriously. I had researched tattoo parlors in Mexi-louis and didn't realize the one that showed the most promise was literally steps away from the hotel.

I will leave it up to you, dear reader, to decide if I did or did not get a tattoo while in Mexilouis.....

Now, I know most of you are now thinking, "bowling alley and tattoo parlor...WHAT kind of place was this?" But, I assure you that this was a very upscale place to be.

We were on Delmar Loop in St. Louis.

You might be thinking, "You went to St. Louis instead of Mexico and you're happy about this?"
There really isn't any comparison. But, I'm here to tell you that we really liked St. Louis. We had just enough time go shopping at malls, look up at the Arch, attend a Cubs/Cards ball game, visit the zoo, ride the Metrolink several times and wander through the Botanical Gardens. The wife had never been to St. Louis so it was fun to take her there. It was a whirlwind--you didn't even have time to miss us. (The dogs didn't even miss us, although that's because they were having all sorts of fun while we were gone--thanks to the dog sitter and Cheeseball Neighbor.)

Now that we are back, we'll continue with our Mexican food theme; after all, we'd still be in Riviera Maya had our trip not been canceled. Unfortunately, now that we're back there is mowing to do and laundry to wash...but, we won't let that stop us from enjoying our last few days of our non-Mexican vacation.

Excuse me while I open another bag of tortilla chips....and while I go put some salve on that new tattoo.....
*******************************************

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Day Five: Bahia

We were scheduled to stay at the Gran Bahia Principe Coba; somehow, we ended up on at Bahia on 7th Street.

So close, yet so far.

¿Qué significa Bahía? No lo se.

But, it sure is tasty!

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Day Four: Two Realities are Better than One

Mi quemadura de sol me está matando!

I don't technically know what Dos Reales means: it's two of something, so I'm going to pretend it means two realities, of which I am certainly living in at this moment.

I swear the Gulf of Mexico looks just like the Mississippi River! Nothing like gorgeous brown water to add romance to one's vacation. Yum!


Monday, May 18, 2009

Day Three: ¿Alguien ha visto mi traje de baño?











We have arrived in Cancun!
Although beautiful, it looks a lot like the Midwest. The flight was so smooth it was almost like we weren't even on a plane!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Day Two: Aisles not Isles

Day Two of our Non-Mexico trip finds me in the aisles, not on the Isles. Grocery shopping this morning left me pining for some real chips and authentic salsa. Alas, all I found was an aisle full of American-made-fake Mexican Food. I'm thinking we'll be going out for a Mexican dinner to celebrate Day Two of our Non-Mexico vacation....

You know, today's been a weird-feeling day. While walking, I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew I was feeling something other than the slight panic I was beginning to feel because I was rather lost on my walk (new neighborhood, curly streets, no idea--obviously, I made it home or I wouldn't be writing this). The wife, being the professor-type that she is, is at the school's graduation ceremonies. Complete in cap, gown and hood, she leads her peers down the aisles (not the grocery store kind or the Isle kind), to their seats (she's a Marshall). Then, it comes to me: twenty five years ago--that's TWO-FRIGGIN'-FIVE--years ago, I graduated from that very school.

Today is my 25th college graduation anniversary. This hurts my head. How can this be? How can it have been twenty five years ago that I crossed that very stage?

I have such great memories of college, culminated (of course) by the actual graduation day. I know what I was wearing, I know what the weather was like, I know who was there. It was a beautiful day, just like it is today: sunny, warm but not too warm, full of spring in the air. It was a bittersweet day, being that I loved college yet was glad to be moving on. (Not that I knew what I was moving on "to." And, little did I know I'd be spending the week after graduation homeless, but that's a whole 'nother story--hiding out in the closed dorms with friends was really kind of fun. An adventure never to be forgotten!)

Realizing that my college graduation was 25 years ago makes me kind of nauseous. Seriously. It seems like it was only yesterday that I was making six foot sculptures in the ceramics room, listening to The Pretenders "Learning to Crawl" cassette over and over. On the other hand, it seems like three life-times ago, just a blur of a stupor. I wonder what the wife is thinking as she's sitting there, watching the Class of 2009 graduation unfold before her. I'd self-centeredly like to think that she's remembering my graduation but I'm pretty sure she's too nervous about leading her peers around that she's basically trying to breathe, not having fond memories.

To ease my nausea, I think I'll take the dogs and go get some ice cream. That always works wonders. Then, I'll save some space for some authentic Mexican food--well, as authentic as you can get in the Midwest....

¿Dónde está el helado, por favor?

I'm feeling better already. Ole!

********************************************************
P.S. shout out to Dubai. That's gotta be some kind of record for "furthest-away-blog reader!
********************************************************

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Day One: The Swine-canceled Mexican Vacation Mexican-themed Meal....




















I wasn't kidding. I am going to make the wife eat some form of Mexican food every day of this vacation. We may be at home but I'm pretending I'm on the beach in the Riviera Maya.....

Friday, May 15, 2009

Do the Dew (claw)

I'm hoping Mountain Dew won't sue me for using their slogan to title this night's blog entry, but since I have a readership of like three people, I'm thinking they'll be okay with me.

BTW, the wife is in the other room watching that reality Wives of New York show and she is laughing out loud. She LOVES that crap! More power to her, I guess. All I hear is rich women yelling at each other. I'm gonna stick with "The Biggest Loser" and "Dancing with the Stars." How 'bout that 48 year old woman winning it all? You go, peri-menopausal grrrrl!


Today's topic: Using vacation monies to fix the car AND get the dog's dew claw removed. I've already whined about the car, so I'm onto the dew claw. You know what a dew claw is, right? It's that funky nail on the front paws of a dog that really seem to serve no purpose that I can think of except to cause havoc and to give groomers one more thing to trim. (Side note: if any of you know what the hell a dew claw is for, I'd love to know.)

Poor Freckles Warrior Princess. Some of you will remember her episode with the ripped off dew claw in December or so. You know, the trip to the emergency vet on a Sunday, little pink cast, pain meds, big bill. She's had dew claw issues since the day she was born. (She has a lot of issues. Even her little butt hole isn't in the middle of her butt. Really.) Her dew claw is very deformed and thus curls inward and ends up growing in to her skin. You have to see it to truly understand it. It's horrible to cut in general, it's impossible for me to trim, the old groomer always missed it and I'd have to take her back, yadda yadda. It's been eight years of dew claw hell.

You'd think since Freckles only has one dew claw, she'd have half the problems of other dogs, but this is not the case. (Why she only has one on her left paw and not her right, I do not know. I'm guessing that she is a mutant of some puppy mill sort.) That deformed dew claw is definitely making up for the lack of the other one. I was rather relieved when she had the dew claw accident last winter because I thought it was the end of the dew claw regime. Even the vet was pretty sure it wouldn't grow back. But, it's back, curlier than ever. Ugh!

I came home from work Wednesday and found Freckles limping and waving her paw in the air. Oh no!

She was doing the dew...claw. The paw in the air is never a good sign.

I thus took ol' Fatty Patty to the vet (Dr. Kitty Cat) so we could discuss the dew claw situation and to make sure this was indeed the problem. A physical identified no other issue, so dew claw it was deemed to be--which is good and bad news--it coulda been a lot worse, but I am so over this dew claw thing.

Why it has taken me nine years to ask the question, "how much would it be to have the dew claw surgically removed?" I do not know, but while at the vet, I inquired about the cost and the danger of doing such surgery. The vet thought it would be a fine idea and although Freckles is going on nine years old, she's probably got many a year left in her and thus surgery of this type would be worth it. Dr. Kitty Cat didn't seem too worried about any dangers for Freckles as related to surgery, so I asked for an estimate. The cost was much less than I thought it might be; in fact, the dew claw incident this winter cost more than the surgery will cost.

On a side note, the vet took a look at Fatty Patty's teeth, as it seemed like a good idea to kill two birds with one stone: remove dew claw, clean teeth. Unfortunately, Freckles has very few teeth. I'm serious. They never grew in. (I told you she's deformed.) The vet literally laughed. No need for teeth cleaning--you have to have teeth for that.

After a bit of deliberation, I decided that potential risks associated with surgery would be so minute that it would be worth using my remaining vacation money to fund the removal of the claw. I scheduled the laser surgery--the big day is June 8th. It's the first day that Dr. Kitty Cat and I could get our schedules together. I wish it could be this week but we'll be on vacation (NOT on a beach in Mexico) and then the vet is on vacation and then I'm out of town on business.....thus, June 8th. (The wife wants nothing to do with this. She doesn't want to take the dog to the vet, pick the dog up, care for the dog upon arrival home. The wife doesn't do pain.)

Waiting til June 8th will give me time to fret about everything and it will give Freckles time to have one more episode of dew-claw-trauma. It will also give me time to spend the money and then save the money only to spend it again. By then, my car will be fixed, my non-vacation will be over, the weather will be warmer, Dancing with the Stars will be history and I'll be well on my way to addressing my goiter via Jillian's new book.

Goiter Grrrl doing the dew....claw. Sounds like an adventure to me.

***********************************************

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Inaugural Flight

Every year, the local Wren Family builds a nest in the wreath right outside our front door. Why they pick this place is beyond me--it's noisy, we are always going in and out the door, the wreath moves whenever we slam the door shut. (The wife also wonders about this because every year this family ruins her new spring wreath.) I guess being out of the rain makes it worth it.

I've been watching the birds since before they were eggs. First the nest, then the eggs. Every time I'd go in the door, I'd take a peek--not always a good idea because that kind of behavior really pissed Mama Bird off. (She never did get used to me sticking my head in there.) Most of the time, I'd see the mama sitting on her eggs; other times, no one was to be found. I can't tell you how many times that mama bird swooped at my head.

Imagine my excitement when there were little, ugly baby birds in there! You can see three of them in the photo above that I took with my camera phone (yes, the white stuff is poop--they make a lot of poop). There may be more than three, but I can only see the trio. The big one on the top hogs most of the space--the other two are smooshed in the bottom right of the nest. No, I didn't name them--although, I suppose I could have.

Yesterday when I was home for lunch, I took my daily peek. This was after cleaning up the giant, foul, gross odoriferous gift left by Lucy (she obviously is suffering from gastrointestinal distress--so bad that I had to open all the windows and use ridiculous amounts of carpet cleaner). This was also after I heard the mama--and dad!--squawking like crazy from the gutter. I could see both mom and dad from where I was eating my daily bowl of lunch cereal--it was like they were yelling at the babies: "JUMPJUMPJUMPJUMP!!!" I'd never heard them yell like this before--chirp, yes....yell, no. The more I sat there, the more I was sure the two of them were demanding the babies to take flight. I stood up and went to the door--mom and dad kept squawking. I opened the door and the parents flew to the birch tree in the front yard. They kept yelling but at least it was from a distance......

A quick glance to the nest confirmed the reason for the squawking--Junior was perched on the edge of the nest and was steeling his nerves to take his inaugural flight! I couldn't believe it--he was standing there, balancing, waiting, thinking (well, that's what I'd be doing if I were to be taking my first solo flight).

I held my breath as I stood there.....

And, then the baby bird literally JUMPED out of the nest (scared the shit out of me) and took off on his first flight-- "woo woo woo whoa woo wooo woop!" He didn't do so good in the aesthetic-graceful flight department, but he got it right very quickly (splatting on the ground is motivating to stay in the air) and flew right to the tree where his parents were sitting. I'm not kidding--the three of them sat there singing their brains out. All three of them were chirping like there was no tomorrow. Proud as peacocks! Now, I know birds aren't happy, but if you would have seen and heard this, you would have thought these birds were indeed very happy.

I had just witnessed the inaugural flight of a baby bird. Who can have a bad day after seeing that?

Last night, I took a peek into the nest. The other two babies were still in the nest, smooshed in the back as they had always been. I'm thinking the big, now gone baby had flattened them and they weren't ready to take flight. For some reason, they hadn't taken advantage of having all that room now that Big Bro had flown the coop. I'm guessing they will be gone by the end of today. As I won't be going home for lunch, I'm thinking I won't get to witness their first attempt at flying, but I'll always have the visual of that first bird taking flight.

I wish the remaining two wrens lots of luck. They won't need it as baby birds fly out of the nest every day without trauma, but I'll wish them luck, anyways. I also hope all of you dear blog readers get to see a baby bird take its inaugural flight some day, as it truly is a heart-warmer. I know my ornithologist heart is still warm.

*************************************************

Saturday, May 09, 2009

Riviera Maya Panel de la Quarter

Hey, I've figured out a way to spend my refunded-Mexican-Vacation funds: fix the damage to my car. Yum.

It's not new damage; you regular blog readers might remember that I side-swiped a snow bank while pulling into the parking lot at work last winter. I was on the phone with the wife while making a right turn into the lot, unfortunately cutting it too closely and rrrrrrr----iiiiii-ppppppp! Paint removed, scrapes added, problem created. Another reason not to talk on the cell phone while driving, I suppose. (This was back when the wife was recuperating from her surgery and I was distracted by my entire life and her lost uterus.) The wife immediately asked, "What WAS that?" I muttered something about a snowbank and left it at that.

Anyways, I did quite the number to the passenger side quarter panel. If my car weren't so new, I really wouldn't care; but, it's new enough that I am motivated to fix it. Besides, it's staring to rust--never a good thing when your car is newer than not and you plan on driving it into the ground.

I took the car to the body shop yesterday. I went to the one that fixed a scratch for free when I was only one week into owning my car. Incredibly, the lady who took my information owns the exact same car as I do--right down to the color. More incredibly, the guy who completed the estimate also owned that same make and color as my car, but he had the souped up model. I took this as a very good sign. I knew I had chosen the right place when the receptionist asked me if I like Spongebob (I have a Spongebob seat cover) and this led to a 10 minute discussion about Ol' Squarepants. We became best of friends when I announced I have a Spongebob and Mr. Crabs tattoos.

My moments of glowing well-being came to a screeching halt when Mr. Honda-Fixer handed me the estimate. Ouch! That'll teach me to talk on the phone and side-swipe a snowbank. One canceled Mexico vacation just about equals the cost of car repairs.

The Universe is so mean that way--money goes out as fast as it comes back in.

I can't take the car in until the end of the month, so I'll have time to save a few pennies to pay for the repairs. I am hoping this will spare me some of the vacation money so we can still have some fun during our week off when we are eating at local Mexican Restaurants every day.

The good news? There are no snowbanks in May.

**********************************************************

Tuesday, May 05, 2009

The "F" Words

You didn't think I meant THE "F" word, did you?


I have two "F" words today. The first "F" word is FLU. As in "oh, this Swine FLU isn't really that bad." I hope the WHO and the CDC and all the letters in the world are lining up to apologize to Mexico in regards to the mass panic about the piggy flu. In case the powers that be are too busy

"Dearest Mexico,
Happy Cinco de Mayo. Oh wait--we ruined that for you--sorry you had to cancel your celebrations. Have an American beer on us. We, the powers-that-be-that-panicked-and-freaked-out-nine-tenths-of-the-world-with-swine-flu-blamed-on-you-hysteria, want to apologize to you. We're sorry we trashed your tourism income. Don't worry--having only a 70% in reduction for hotel reservations really isn't that bad. By the way, we've figured out that the piggy flu really isn't that big of a deal, so come visit us. You can come join our Cinco de Mayo parties we're still having. You bring the beer. Love, the World."

BTW, the vacation search continues. We have many options, just no set plans yet. Perhaps we can see how many college campuses we can visit in one day--our record is FIVE. Or, maybe we'll see how many outlet malls the wife can squeeze into one week. As long as we don't just sit at home, I'll be good with it. Who knows? Maybe Riviera Maya will call and say, "we're still and we're half price now!"

The second "F" word is FAVRE. As in "oh-my-gawd-Brett-Favre-is-talking-to-the-most hated-Vikings." The poor, poor wife. First, our vacation is canceled. Now, Brett Favre is back in the news and is un-un-retiring and this time he's talking to the one team all Packer Fans can agree to hate--the Minnesota Vikings. I'm thinking dropping the "F" bomb might be appropriate in regards to this "F" word. I'm not sure there is a worse fate than a Packer God turning purple. What IS wrong with this boy? Some people stay for the money. Some people stay for the love of the game. Some people stay....to get revenge and to disgrace the Green and Gold. The wife says, "I don't like him anymore." Ouch. She also mentioned that she is going to take the autographed Favre football I gave her and punt it around the back yard.

.........I wouldn't blame her.

*******************************
(P.S. Apple Vacation refunded 100% of our trip costs, so I give them a big shout out right here. I still can't believe they gave us all the money back--even tho it was them who caused the problem with our booking, I figured they slap on some form of penalty or charge or whatever. I have nothing but glowing reports to give them. You go, Apple People! (Just don't go to Mexico unless you want to go to Jamaica.)


Friday, May 01, 2009

...And, This Little Piggy Stayed Home...

Sigh.

The now-suicidal travel agent called today. She didn't have very happy news. Seems that with all the people refusing to go to Mexico due to the supposed Swine Flu (of which like twelve people have in the world), they've diverted "our" plane (the one that was supposedly going to Cancun so we could sit on a beach in Riviera Maya) to Jamaica.

Really. Jamaica.

This means we don't have a flight anymore on the day we set up the flight. And, this change led to more complications with the vacation in general.

I drove my sorry ass self to the actual travel agency, as I figured this would be the best way to communicate with my sad sack of a travel agent. Besides, I'm a counselor--if anyone needs counseling these days, it's gotta be a travel agent. (That, and the entire Mexican government. This nonsense will destroy any hope they had of having an economy.) When I got there, I could barely see Travel-agent-grrrl, as she was hidden behind gobs of paperwork. She looked defeated as she motioned for me to sit down. We talked about the whole mess that was now our vacation. We could go to Jamaica but that would mean all sorts of changes. I didn't ask about cost. We talked about the Swine Flu and how the Media has really done a horrible thing.

Mass hysteria. Maybe they should call it "Mass Media Hysteria."

(I plead ignorance....I still don't understand how the "regular" flu can kill literally tens of thousands of people every year and you never hear about it. This flu comes along, a handful fall over, the world goes into hysteria. What IS this all about? Is this some plot to divert us from the woes of the world like the collapsing economy? "Divert the plane--maybe they won't notice Chrysler is tanking.")

She summed it up best when she said, "this is worse than 9/11."

Now, neither of us are even remotely saying that the Swine Flu is any comparison to the horrific events on 9/11. Dear god, there is really no comparison. She was just saying that people stopped flying then and changed their plans--understandably. Everything was a mess--understandably. Our world was turned upside down. No one wanted to fly anywhere--and, even if they did, planes were grounded for days--understandably. Being a travel agent back then must have been awful, as I know they understood how tragic event 9/11 was and how it was reasonable that everything came to a grinding halt.

What ISN'T understandable is how a flu like this has caused global hysteria and thus pissed all over our vacation.

Before I went to the travel agent this afternoon, the wife wisely said, "if they offer us an 'out,' we should take it." After all, this whole piggy thing and other vacation-related stressors seemed like a sign from God (Montezuma?) that this trip was just a plain old bad idea.

Travel Agent Grrrl indicated she would seek a full refund for us. I took the offer. I hope she's right, cuz I paid for that puppy on my charge card. At this point, I trust her. I mean, she didn't try to convince me to consider anywhere else. She didn't try even one tiny bit--not even a "I hear Antartica is beautiful this time of year." Nothing.

The wife and I are very sad. We love Mexico. We love the beach, the sun, the food. While going to Taco Bell isn't exactly like going to Riviera Maya, we might have to settle for it. I know there will be awesome vacation plans in our future. It just isn't right now.

Some little piggies get roast beef, some get none. Some little piggies go to market. This little piggy's staying home.

*************************************