The Straits of Gibraltar is a narrow strait that connects the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea and separates Spain from Morocco - 7.7 nautical miles of ocean at the strait's narrowest point.
So what I really want to know is why it takes 45 to 60 minutes to traverse in a big ferry a/k/a boat from Tangier's to Gibraltar 7.7 miles? That's right, a ferry operates between the two cities transporting people and vehicles hourly between Africa and Europe. Last week Darrell and I were among the passengers making this trip. We were told it would take up to an hour to make the trip what we were not told was how rough the ride would be, and me with a sensitive stomach often experiencing motion sickness.
The ride on the ferry from Spain to Morocco was rough. The ride from Morocco to Spain was a rollicking bronco ride. I have learned since the trip that rough water is a norm because the Strait of Gibraltar serves to directly link the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea which creates certain unique flow and wave patterns due to the interaction of various regional and global evaporative forces, tidal forces and wind forces. In other words the water may not look choppy but there are undercurrents that are going to jolt your teeth loose.
Me with my sensitive tummy was doing everything in my power to think of something positive and ignore the constant rocking. Darrell was attentive and filling me with fluids because I had been complaining of thirst.
We sat at a table with a family from Morocco, mother, father daughter of about 12 years and her friend. They spoke very little English and I spoke even less Spanish but we were trying to communicate. The mother was also suffering from motion sickness. I was trying hard to be brave and not mention my discomfort as we struggled to talk. The young girl was lovely with big brown expressive eyes and long thick coal black hair. One day she would drive the boys nuts (perhaps she already did). In broken English she expressed her love for Johnny Depp, something we both had in common.
The conversation lagged and I told Darrell I had to go potty. I knew it would be difficult to navigate across the boat with it lurching so badly so I had waited until I couldn't wait no more. I walked like a drunk but made it safely to the water closet (as they say in England) and found both stalls occupied. (Later I learned the crew had locked the doors because they didn't want the toilets clogged from all the sick passengers barfing.) All I could do was stand in the tiny room waiting for the stalls to be vacated. So I stood and swayed with the irradiate rocking holding on for dear life. Finally I started beating on the stall doors begging for whoever was in the stall to hurry up. I was desperate. When there was no answer behind the door I staggered out of the tiny enclosure and motioned to Darrell across the room I needed help. He couldn't figure out what I needed so like a lunatic I yelled at the top of my lungs "BARF BAG". That did the trick. He can really move in an emergency. Thank goodness because as he handed me the bag I filled it. To make matters worse during the fit of vomiting I had no control over my bladder so I peed on myself.
All in all it was a humiliating experience that I had no control over and I will never take that journey again.
Observations from a scatterbrained, unorganized, extremely messy,romantic, chai tea drinking, mad hattering, work in progress with an obscenely large lust for life.
Scathenly Brilliant Ideas
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Frigiliana, Spain
February 20, 2012 my friends and I toured the small quaint village of Frigiliana (pronounced free-hilly-anna). The village was right out of a picture book. A tiny village built in the mountains with a population of approximately 3,000; mostly Central Europeans because southern Spain is a favorite vacation spot in the winter. All the small white washed houses were joined together like Siamese Twins. There were no front yards, not even a small porch or sidewalk for the pedestrians to walk on. The entrances to their homes were directly on the roadway, which was a long winding piece of artwork made up completely of concrete and small round smooth stones laid in intricate designs.
We were told this was Moorish design. The Moors had occupied Frigiliana until 1487 when it was conquered by the Catholic Monarch. The Moors were allowed to stay but under tight constraints causing frequent uprisings until 1609 when they were finally exiled to Africa.
One of my favorite spots in the village was the 16th century parish of San Antonio Catholic Church. I had not expected to see such rich beauty in this poor little village. (I guess I shouldn't have been surprised now that I think of it. My experience has been that no matter how poor an area, if there is a Catholic church there, it is richly furnished, but I'll stay off my soap box and continue.) The most outstanding feature of the exterior of the church building is its clock tower. The interior has a fine choir, silver and gold treasures in the sacristy and three 17th century paintings. The church has a nave and two aisles, with Mudejar coffered ceilings.
The villagers lived and worked in their tiny narrow homes. Many of the homes doors were left open allowing myself and other tourist to peek in. The homes were neat, clean and sparsely decorated. All the homes' floors were paved with tiles and decorative tiles could be found throughout the walls inside and outside of the homes. Several of the homes served not only as residences but also as businesses, selling fresh produce, canned goods, wines, and boutique items.
All this on a mountain side going straight up. There was a small train provided for those who were not capable of walking the tour up the winding road. I am thankful I have my health and was able to traverse up the path throughout this adorable little town. One of my companions talked to an elderly woman walking up the path carrying her groceries. She was from England and wintered in Frigiliana every year for the past 13 years since her retirement. She said the roads were so narrow and groceries and toiletries were readily available in the village so there was little reason to have a car. She walked everywhere.
I was not sure why I went to Spain except for the experience of going to Europe. Now I was finding the experience was one full of great knowledge, a knowledge I had not expected. I knew I would see Christopher Columbus' homeland. I would be surrounded by history. But I was learning from the people who lived there here and now, not just in the past. I was learning what is important in our lives, not the materialistic lives we live in the states.
Now that I am back in the states, I hope that I can make use of the things I learned.
We were told this was Moorish design. The Moors had occupied Frigiliana until 1487 when it was conquered by the Catholic Monarch. The Moors were allowed to stay but under tight constraints causing frequent uprisings until 1609 when they were finally exiled to Africa.
One of my favorite spots in the village was the 16th century parish of San Antonio Catholic Church. I had not expected to see such rich beauty in this poor little village. (I guess I shouldn't have been surprised now that I think of it. My experience has been that no matter how poor an area, if there is a Catholic church there, it is richly furnished, but I'll stay off my soap box and continue.) The most outstanding feature of the exterior of the church building is its clock tower. The interior has a fine choir, silver and gold treasures in the sacristy and three 17th century paintings. The church has a nave and two aisles, with Mudejar coffered ceilings.
The villagers lived and worked in their tiny narrow homes. Many of the homes doors were left open allowing myself and other tourist to peek in. The homes were neat, clean and sparsely decorated. All the homes' floors were paved with tiles and decorative tiles could be found throughout the walls inside and outside of the homes. Several of the homes served not only as residences but also as businesses, selling fresh produce, canned goods, wines, and boutique items.
All this on a mountain side going straight up. There was a small train provided for those who were not capable of walking the tour up the winding road. I am thankful I have my health and was able to traverse up the path throughout this adorable little town. One of my companions talked to an elderly woman walking up the path carrying her groceries. She was from England and wintered in Frigiliana every year for the past 13 years since her retirement. She said the roads were so narrow and groceries and toiletries were readily available in the village so there was little reason to have a car. She walked everywhere.
I was not sure why I went to Spain except for the experience of going to Europe. Now I was finding the experience was one full of great knowledge, a knowledge I had not expected. I knew I would see Christopher Columbus' homeland. I would be surrounded by history. But I was learning from the people who lived there here and now, not just in the past. I was learning what is important in our lives, not the materialistic lives we live in the states.
Now that I am back in the states, I hope that I can make use of the things I learned.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Toremolinos Spain
I and seventeen of my new found friends stayed at the hotel Sol Timor located next to the boardwalk on the beach of the Mediterranean Sea in Toremolinos, Spain. The boardwalk is much like the boardwalk in San Antonio Texas, seven miles of tourist traps and restaurants.
I really hadn't expected that but it was fun and since Spain has an unemployment rate of 23% tourism is very important to them. So important the people of Toremolinos have turned their home into a haven for tourist and many speak several languages to accommodate the tourists.
Another surprise was the number of English and Irish pubs found in Toremolinos. Our first meal in Spain was at a small pub called Father O'Malley's that served traditional Irish dishes such as kidney pie, fish and chips and shepherds pie and of course the proprietor was from Ireland. Our second day out we discovered a little pub called The Office owned by an Englishman who was married to a beautiful Brazilian woman with two teenage children. The Office became a favorite night spot for us to unwind after a long day of sightseeing. Malcolm, the proprietor was full of interesting stories about his travels throughout Europe, Russian and Brazil keeping us entertained and liquored up.
Most nights at 9:30 our group would meet at the hotel for some professional entertainment. The first evening we saw a stage production of Grease, the next night the same group of dancers sang and danced to some Broadway plays and the next night an evening of live music and dancing and the next Flamingo dancers. There was some type of entertainment every evening. The most bizarre was the male impersonators. Naturally I had heard of men impersonating women but this was my first time to see a live performance. They were really quite good and entertaining.
Of course the biggest draw for tourist to Toremolinos is the warm ocean breezes and the walks on the sandy beach of the Mediterranean Sea. The view from the balcony of our room on the fifth floor of the hotel was beautiful and the sound of the waves rushing to the shore was incredibly relaxing. What a pleasant sound to lull us to sleep each night.
I really hadn't expected that but it was fun and since Spain has an unemployment rate of 23% tourism is very important to them. So important the people of Toremolinos have turned their home into a haven for tourist and many speak several languages to accommodate the tourists.
Another surprise was the number of English and Irish pubs found in Toremolinos. Our first meal in Spain was at a small pub called Father O'Malley's that served traditional Irish dishes such as kidney pie, fish and chips and shepherds pie and of course the proprietor was from Ireland. Our second day out we discovered a little pub called The Office owned by an Englishman who was married to a beautiful Brazilian woman with two teenage children. The Office became a favorite night spot for us to unwind after a long day of sightseeing. Malcolm, the proprietor was full of interesting stories about his travels throughout Europe, Russian and Brazil keeping us entertained and liquored up.
Most nights at 9:30 our group would meet at the hotel for some professional entertainment. The first evening we saw a stage production of Grease, the next night the same group of dancers sang and danced to some Broadway plays and the next night an evening of live music and dancing and the next Flamingo dancers. There was some type of entertainment every evening. The most bizarre was the male impersonators. Naturally I had heard of men impersonating women but this was my first time to see a live performance. They were really quite good and entertaining.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
On My Way To Spain
Scottie, Darrell's grandson took Darrell and I to the air port at 10:30 AM. Little did I know that this was going to be one of the longest days of my life. Not that I am complaining. We were on our way to Spain - the home of Christopher Columbus. You remember him, the guy who discovered the Americas. How cool is that?
It was a 45 minute flight from St. Louis to Chicago and our flight didn't leave until 1:20 in the afternoon but due to terrorist activities we were required to be at the airport for security processing two hours early. Security didn't take nearly that long, not that I really cared come to think of it. I was so excited about my upcoming adventure I wouldn't have been doing anything at home but jumping up and down wishing we were on our way.
From Chicago we flew to Madrid, Spain. The eight hour flight was long and terribly boring. Thank goodness I had a date with my new favorite author Janet Evanovich to read Plum Spooky on the plane. Her books are laughing out loud funny so they kept me entertained.
Now if there was just a remedy for the tiny confined space where I was sitting. I am short and my knees were touching the back of the seat of the passenger in front of me. I felt sorry for the taller passengers. I took my shoes off to wiggle my toes then pulled my legs up to my chin to rub my legs and feet to keep circulation going quite often. Fortunately the passenger next to me was Darrell because I know I was driving him nuts with all my wiggling. My seat was inside next to the small window. Darrell sat next to me in an aisle seat. He spent a lot of time getting up to get another scotch and water or red wine. Perhaps I should have taken Darrell's advice and got drunk and slept through the long night but I am not much of a drinker and I can't sleep on a plane.
I now have an understanding of "jet lag". I and my fellow passengers were exhausted and crabby when we finally got to our final destination, the Sol Timor Hotel in Terremolinos. We began our trip Tuesday, February 14th and arrived in Spain Wednesday, February 15th.
I was traveling with a group of 17 long time friends. I was the only newbie traveler of the group. The others had traveled extensively, especially Janet McDonald our leader who is a retired travel agent.
After checking into the hotel all 17 of us met at a local pub for a quick lunch then returned to the hotel for a nap. I normally have problems sleeping but not this time. I was asleep when my head hit the pillow. Exploring Spain was just going to have to wait while I recouped.
It was a 45 minute flight from St. Louis to Chicago and our flight didn't leave until 1:20 in the afternoon but due to terrorist activities we were required to be at the airport for security processing two hours early. Security didn't take nearly that long, not that I really cared come to think of it. I was so excited about my upcoming adventure I wouldn't have been doing anything at home but jumping up and down wishing we were on our way.
From Chicago we flew to Madrid, Spain. The eight hour flight was long and terribly boring. Thank goodness I had a date with my new favorite author Janet Evanovich to read Plum Spooky on the plane. Her books are laughing out loud funny so they kept me entertained.
Now if there was just a remedy for the tiny confined space where I was sitting. I am short and my knees were touching the back of the seat of the passenger in front of me. I felt sorry for the taller passengers. I took my shoes off to wiggle my toes then pulled my legs up to my chin to rub my legs and feet to keep circulation going quite often. Fortunately the passenger next to me was Darrell because I know I was driving him nuts with all my wiggling. My seat was inside next to the small window. Darrell sat next to me in an aisle seat. He spent a lot of time getting up to get another scotch and water or red wine. Perhaps I should have taken Darrell's advice and got drunk and slept through the long night but I am not much of a drinker and I can't sleep on a plane.
I now have an understanding of "jet lag". I and my fellow passengers were exhausted and crabby when we finally got to our final destination, the Sol Timor Hotel in Terremolinos. We began our trip Tuesday, February 14th and arrived in Spain Wednesday, February 15th.
I was traveling with a group of 17 long time friends. I was the only newbie traveler of the group. The others had traveled extensively, especially Janet McDonald our leader who is a retired travel agent.
After checking into the hotel all 17 of us met at a local pub for a quick lunch then returned to the hotel for a nap. I normally have problems sleeping but not this time. I was asleep when my head hit the pillow. Exploring Spain was just going to have to wait while I recouped.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Revenge of the Water God
My goal through most of my adult life has been to be independent. Fortunately I am a pretty good actress because most of my friends and family think I am independent.
Wrong! But I try hard. Really hard.
What I am leading up to is my ongoing battle with the Water God. He and I have butt heads before and every time I have ended up with a head ache and no water or too much water.
My last major battle with him was a few years back when my toilet was malfunctioning. I had taken a class at the local junior college on basic toilet repairs and it seemed simple enough. I went to Lowe's, purchased new guts for the toilet tank, got out my instructions and went to work.
First rule, turn off water. I fooled around in back of the toilet and found a turn off valve, turned it tight, then went straight to the nitty gritty process of gutting the inside of the tank, all the while water kept gushing in.
What the???? I turned off the water. Right?
Water was rapidly approaching the top of the toilet bowl as I desperately searched for anything to scoop out the water before it over flowed onto my bathroom carpeting. In the bathtub in a bag of plastic toys the grandchildren play with was a little blue plastic bucket. Hooray! I was momentarily saved but what next?
I tried dipping water while inserting funny plastic thingies in the toilet tank following the pictures in the directions. The water was icy and my fingers were turning numb and were no longer bending around the rubber plug thingy. I finally got the rubber plug in the hole at the bottom of the tank but the water was still spewing out into the toilet bowl faster than I was able to scoop it into the sink. And I still had to attach some other funny shaped thing-a-ma-gigs
My blood pressure was rising and my patience had been gone for quite some time when in desperation I called my brother who lived a short distance from my house. Hysterically I yelled at him to get over to my house and stop the Water God from destroying my house and drowning me.
Bruce gets worked up over nothing and calmly told me he was eating supper and would come over in an hour or so. I explained the facts to him. God had made a pact with Noah, not me and since I cannot swim I was going to drown very shortly. Bruce's reply was simple, "turn off the water". I did! Didn't I? He then explained that I needed to go to the basement to turn off the water. Now that sounded simple enough except that I had no idea where the water valve in the basement was and in the mean time while I explored the secret hiding places in my basement the Water God would be upstairs turning the first floor into a water playground.
Ten minutes later (felt more life ten hours later) my brother shows up at my door. He slowly meanders into my bathroom and bursts into laughter. Water was everywhere and I was scooping as fast as I could. He really has a morbid sense of humor and I would have liked to have strangled him about that time but I thought better of it and let him survey the situation and take over.
He went to the basement, turned off the water and within fifteen minutes had changed out the toilet innards. He then showed me where the water valve was located and explained all of his steps so that I could do the same the next time I found the opportunity to play around in my toilet, as if this was one of my favorite activities. I thanked him profusely even though I wanted to gag.
So a couple of weeks back the Water God thought he would have some more fun with me. First he stuck the water stopper thingy in the bathroom sink in the hole so tight I couldn't get it up. I tried prying it up with a couple of thin knife blades with no avail. All I managed to do was break the tips off the knife blades.
FINE! I now brush my teeth in the kitchen sink. Guess I showed him!
Then the toilet started acting up. Now that is a sore subject but I had to have a toilet. No pooping in the bathtub. The Water God played with me for a while.
I found if I just held the handle down the whole time it was flushing it worked. Okay, it was a bit of a bother but I could live with that.
I should have known the Water God could not let me get away with that. Eventually holding the handle down didn't work and I was forced to lift the heavy tank lid and piddle around in the water. The problem looked simple enough. A chain was corroded and needed to be replaced.
Simple, even I can handle that, right? Off to Lowe's. I love it when they meet me at the door and ask if they can help me. After a quick explanation I was led to the plumbing department and shown some chains made for the toilet. A dollar and seventy nine cents and I am ready to rock and roll. Piece of cake!
Oops, the new chain was different from the old chain. An hour later and not only have I not attached the new chain but I have also destroyed the little do-wacky that was attached to the rubber plug.
Back to Lowe's. The nice young man met me at the door and smiled politely as I explained my new dilemma.
Back to the plumbing department. Nice Young Man quickly found the parts I would need then took me over to a toilet set up for demonstrations to describe what my next steps would be.
Cool! Four dollars and eighty nine cents later I was on my way back home to face the dreaded Water God again. I followed Nice Young Man's directions without a deviance without any problems. Maybe the Water God was sleeping. It wasn't like him to let me get away this easily. All I needed to do now was to attach the new chain to the stick that is attached to the flusher handle.
Oops! I guess I had cracked the stick fighting with it as I tried to attach the chain because it broke off and dropped into the tank on my very first flush test.
Back to Lowe's! As I walked through the door I swear I saw Nice Young Man and his friend flip a coin. What was that all about? Probably flipping to see who got the dingy ol' red head. Nice Young Man was good about losing the flip and directed me back once again to the plumbing department.
Seven dollars and forty eight cents later I was ready to tackle the job at hand. This time I bought all metal parts. Not taking a chance of breaking any more cheap plastic. Surprise, I did it! No, not on the first try but did you really think I would fix it on the first try? It was a good thing I bought metal parts because I had to force it in the little hole and I really didn't want to face Nice Young Man again.
Water God and I are at peace once again. I don't know for how long. Perhaps I should burn some incense in the bathroom every so often in homage to appease him? It couldn't hurt.
Wrong! But I try hard. Really hard.
What I am leading up to is my ongoing battle with the Water God. He and I have butt heads before and every time I have ended up with a head ache and no water or too much water.
My last major battle with him was a few years back when my toilet was malfunctioning. I had taken a class at the local junior college on basic toilet repairs and it seemed simple enough. I went to Lowe's, purchased new guts for the toilet tank, got out my instructions and went to work.
First rule, turn off water. I fooled around in back of the toilet and found a turn off valve, turned it tight, then went straight to the nitty gritty process of gutting the inside of the tank, all the while water kept gushing in.
What the???? I turned off the water. Right?
Water was rapidly approaching the top of the toilet bowl as I desperately searched for anything to scoop out the water before it over flowed onto my bathroom carpeting. In the bathtub in a bag of plastic toys the grandchildren play with was a little blue plastic bucket. Hooray! I was momentarily saved but what next?
I tried dipping water while inserting funny plastic thingies in the toilet tank following the pictures in the directions. The water was icy and my fingers were turning numb and were no longer bending around the rubber plug thingy. I finally got the rubber plug in the hole at the bottom of the tank but the water was still spewing out into the toilet bowl faster than I was able to scoop it into the sink. And I still had to attach some other funny shaped thing-a-ma-gigs
My blood pressure was rising and my patience had been gone for quite some time when in desperation I called my brother who lived a short distance from my house. Hysterically I yelled at him to get over to my house and stop the Water God from destroying my house and drowning me.
Bruce gets worked up over nothing and calmly told me he was eating supper and would come over in an hour or so. I explained the facts to him. God had made a pact with Noah, not me and since I cannot swim I was going to drown very shortly. Bruce's reply was simple, "turn off the water". I did! Didn't I? He then explained that I needed to go to the basement to turn off the water. Now that sounded simple enough except that I had no idea where the water valve in the basement was and in the mean time while I explored the secret hiding places in my basement the Water God would be upstairs turning the first floor into a water playground.
Ten minutes later (felt more life ten hours later) my brother shows up at my door. He slowly meanders into my bathroom and bursts into laughter. Water was everywhere and I was scooping as fast as I could. He really has a morbid sense of humor and I would have liked to have strangled him about that time but I thought better of it and let him survey the situation and take over.
He went to the basement, turned off the water and within fifteen minutes had changed out the toilet innards. He then showed me where the water valve was located and explained all of his steps so that I could do the same the next time I found the opportunity to play around in my toilet, as if this was one of my favorite activities. I thanked him profusely even though I wanted to gag.
So a couple of weeks back the Water God thought he would have some more fun with me. First he stuck the water stopper thingy in the bathroom sink in the hole so tight I couldn't get it up. I tried prying it up with a couple of thin knife blades with no avail. All I managed to do was break the tips off the knife blades.
FINE! I now brush my teeth in the kitchen sink. Guess I showed him!
Then the toilet started acting up. Now that is a sore subject but I had to have a toilet. No pooping in the bathtub. The Water God played with me for a while.
I found if I just held the handle down the whole time it was flushing it worked. Okay, it was a bit of a bother but I could live with that.
I should have known the Water God could not let me get away with that. Eventually holding the handle down didn't work and I was forced to lift the heavy tank lid and piddle around in the water. The problem looked simple enough. A chain was corroded and needed to be replaced.
Simple, even I can handle that, right? Off to Lowe's. I love it when they meet me at the door and ask if they can help me. After a quick explanation I was led to the plumbing department and shown some chains made for the toilet. A dollar and seventy nine cents and I am ready to rock and roll. Piece of cake!
Oops, the new chain was different from the old chain. An hour later and not only have I not attached the new chain but I have also destroyed the little do-wacky that was attached to the rubber plug.
Back to Lowe's. The nice young man met me at the door and smiled politely as I explained my new dilemma.
Back to the plumbing department. Nice Young Man quickly found the parts I would need then took me over to a toilet set up for demonstrations to describe what my next steps would be.
Cool! Four dollars and eighty nine cents later I was on my way back home to face the dreaded Water God again. I followed Nice Young Man's directions without a deviance without any problems. Maybe the Water God was sleeping. It wasn't like him to let me get away this easily. All I needed to do now was to attach the new chain to the stick that is attached to the flusher handle.
Oops! I guess I had cracked the stick fighting with it as I tried to attach the chain because it broke off and dropped into the tank on my very first flush test.
Back to Lowe's! As I walked through the door I swear I saw Nice Young Man and his friend flip a coin. What was that all about? Probably flipping to see who got the dingy ol' red head. Nice Young Man was good about losing the flip and directed me back once again to the plumbing department.
Seven dollars and forty eight cents later I was ready to tackle the job at hand. This time I bought all metal parts. Not taking a chance of breaking any more cheap plastic. Surprise, I did it! No, not on the first try but did you really think I would fix it on the first try? It was a good thing I bought metal parts because I had to force it in the little hole and I really didn't want to face Nice Young Man again.
Water God and I are at peace once again. I don't know for how long. Perhaps I should burn some incense in the bathroom every so often in homage to appease him? It couldn't hurt.
Friday, February 3, 2012
Feeding the Geese
One of my favorite activities to do when I have my grandchildren is to visit Woodlawn Park. Woodlawn Park is a picturesque park surrounded by a small lake. Whenever I visit with the kids we start by feeding the ducks and geese followed up by an hour of running, jumping, swinging, sliding, and of course lots of make believe in one of the four playgrounds located within the park.
It's always an adventure feeding the wild life but especially so one particular afternoon while I was with Abby and Wesley, my two oldest grandchildren and by far the two most adventurous. We arrived carrying a bag of bread cubes to feed our feathered friends who at first appeared to be cute and quite adorable. From past experience with this species of fowl I knew they were really vicious little demons who had to be kept at arms length and watched carefully.
If I had any common sense I wouldn't go near the water's edge where the little devils reside but out of love for my grandchildren I put on a brave face and ventured into the devil's den bearing gifts of bread to placate the monster. In my defence I had asked the kids to throw the bread out the car window to the geese but they would have nothing to do with that plan. They insisted we venture out among the ducks and geese.
It started out well enough when there were only a handful of geese gathering around us. Suddenly geese are running at us from every corner of the park, running on their funny webbed feet, waggling their fat goose asses and flapping their big goose wings much too close to my grandchildren.
Protectively I jumped between the geese and my two precious grandchildren as the geese began fighting among themselves for the bread the children had thrown to them. My heart beat fast as they charged me, squawking, honking and viciously snapping at me. I was trying to coax the kids back into the safety of the car. I let out a shriek in terror as Wesley slipped and fell into the slick goose poop covered ground. I ran and grabbed him up all the while yelling at Abby to get in the car fast.
The children calmly stood their ground explaining there was still bread to be fed. The noise was deafening what with the geese honking, the wings flapping, the children yelling and my heart pounding.
Just as I turned to shove the kids into the safely of the car one of the geese bit me on the butt. That was the last straw. I lost all reserve and yelled at the top of my lungs for the kids to get in the car, kicked at the goose, and ran to the drivers side so that I could get in and make my escape. I backed out of the parking places throwing gravel as I skidded away leaving nothing but, geese, feathers and lots of goose poop.
As I said before, I have very little common sense when it comes to my grandchildren. I still take the children to the park whenever they request it but I am very cautious.
It's always an adventure feeding the wild life but especially so one particular afternoon while I was with Abby and Wesley, my two oldest grandchildren and by far the two most adventurous. We arrived carrying a bag of bread cubes to feed our feathered friends who at first appeared to be cute and quite adorable. From past experience with this species of fowl I knew they were really vicious little demons who had to be kept at arms length and watched carefully.
If I had any common sense I wouldn't go near the water's edge where the little devils reside but out of love for my grandchildren I put on a brave face and ventured into the devil's den bearing gifts of bread to placate the monster. In my defence I had asked the kids to throw the bread out the car window to the geese but they would have nothing to do with that plan. They insisted we venture out among the ducks and geese.
It started out well enough when there were only a handful of geese gathering around us. Suddenly geese are running at us from every corner of the park, running on their funny webbed feet, waggling their fat goose asses and flapping their big goose wings much too close to my grandchildren.
Protectively I jumped between the geese and my two precious grandchildren as the geese began fighting among themselves for the bread the children had thrown to them. My heart beat fast as they charged me, squawking, honking and viciously snapping at me. I was trying to coax the kids back into the safety of the car. I let out a shriek in terror as Wesley slipped and fell into the slick goose poop covered ground. I ran and grabbed him up all the while yelling at Abby to get in the car fast.
The children calmly stood their ground explaining there was still bread to be fed. The noise was deafening what with the geese honking, the wings flapping, the children yelling and my heart pounding.
Just as I turned to shove the kids into the safely of the car one of the geese bit me on the butt. That was the last straw. I lost all reserve and yelled at the top of my lungs for the kids to get in the car, kicked at the goose, and ran to the drivers side so that I could get in and make my escape. I backed out of the parking places throwing gravel as I skidded away leaving nothing but, geese, feathers and lots of goose poop.
As I said before, I have very little common sense when it comes to my grandchildren. I still take the children to the park whenever they request it but I am very cautious.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
National Ice Cream for Breakfast Day
Years ago when I was a true blue goody goody two shoes I posted a "thought for the day" on a black board in the lunchroom where I worked down town Belleville, IL. It was a lot of fun until I got busted.
Can you imagine? I got busted for being "too cheery"
Yep, it upset someone (never found out who the disgruntled employee was) who took it upon themselves to counter all my sweet comments with foul vulgar comments. Management knew who "Goody Goody Two Shoes" was so I was asked to stop. I was tempted to continue out of pure obstinacy but what would that prove, so I quit.
It was really a sad day for me. I enjoyed coming up with happy little sayings, but the most fun was finding crazy holidays to celebrate. Fun days like National Friendship Day, Love Thy Neighbor day, National Ground Hog Day, Tell a Fairy Tale Day, National Tooth Fairy Day, Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk Day, and of course National Pig Day. I swear to you, I did not make these up. The craziest would have to be Hoodie Hoo Day which happens to be a copyrighted holiday.
So when I came across an ad in the Sauce Magazine suggesting we celebrate National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day, you know I was excited. Hooray! Goody Goody Two Shoes is still alive and well.
That's right, Feb 4, 2012 is really National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day. I can see it now, ice cream over pancakes and waffles or ice cream over rice crispy treats. What a way to start your day off.
Two more days and I can officially celebrate National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day. Incidentally, two of my grandchildren will have spent the night with me February 3rd.
Drum roll please. Ratty Tat Tat! That means I will have two little girls sharing breakfast with me that morning. MMMMMM YUMMY! Pancakes, ice cream, fruit and lots of sprinkles for breakfast.
Can you imagine? I got busted for being "too cheery"
Yep, it upset someone (never found out who the disgruntled employee was) who took it upon themselves to counter all my sweet comments with foul vulgar comments. Management knew who "Goody Goody Two Shoes" was so I was asked to stop. I was tempted to continue out of pure obstinacy but what would that prove, so I quit.
It was really a sad day for me. I enjoyed coming up with happy little sayings, but the most fun was finding crazy holidays to celebrate. Fun days like National Friendship Day, Love Thy Neighbor day, National Ground Hog Day, Tell a Fairy Tale Day, National Tooth Fairy Day, Don't Cry Over Spilled Milk Day, and of course National Pig Day. I swear to you, I did not make these up. The craziest would have to be Hoodie Hoo Day which happens to be a copyrighted holiday.
So when I came across an ad in the Sauce Magazine suggesting we celebrate National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day, you know I was excited. Hooray! Goody Goody Two Shoes is still alive and well.
That's right, Feb 4, 2012 is really National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day. I can see it now, ice cream over pancakes and waffles or ice cream over rice crispy treats. What a way to start your day off.
Two more days and I can officially celebrate National Ice Cream For Breakfast Day. Incidentally, two of my grandchildren will have spent the night with me February 3rd.
Drum roll please. Ratty Tat Tat! That means I will have two little girls sharing breakfast with me that morning. MMMMMM YUMMY! Pancakes, ice cream, fruit and lots of sprinkles for breakfast.
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