Author: Rene

We have crossed Route 66 periodically on this trip. Naturally, we stopped in Winslow, Arizona and stood on a corner. 40 years ago I did the same. The photo is somewhere in the archives of my basement storage bins though, so no proof. And really, this photo proves nothing either, other than it’s been windy, windy, windy.

Not many people make it to Cornville, I’m guessing. Obviously, it’s a farming community. The local convenience store supplied our gas and could have done the same for our horse. It was tempting to purchase a bale of hay just because we could. However, a previous hay purchase killed that idea.

In college, an over-ambitious idea, to “decorate the floor of the residence hall for fall,” led to the purchase of hale bales. Unbeknownst to the zealous R.A., mice inhabited the bales and were thus given a holiday in a very comfortable dorm. The ”Marge in Charge” set traps, caught the offender, and was properly bitten by the rascal. The nurse recommended treatment, the R.A. refused, and all lived happily ever after.

I have never purchased another bale of hay. But I could have!

Usually I pack quite lightly when traveling. Case in point: I traversed France, England, Austria, and Germany with a backpack in my youth. I don’t like toting much. However, when we camp in the RV, I have a rolling Clampett-mobile. I think I have five pair of shoes with me! (I say, ”think,” because it’s possible I threw in two extra after I packed and I don’t want to go and count them.)

There’s room, so I use it.

We entertain ourselves quite nicely with silly games, too. ”Guess how many pair of glasses I have in my purse?” was our first game. ”Five,” answered my spouse. ”No, four. It would be five, but one is on my head now.” ”How many little hand-sanitizers do I have in my purse?” ”Three,” answered the commander. ”Two,” I said. ”Wait, let me unzip this little-used compartment. Three,” I corrected. It was nice to know my husband knows me so well.

The only other game was ”bug-our-neighbor-from-the ”Land of Enchantment” and see where we are!” Thanks, ”Parsha.” Next we’ll be bugging our friend from the ”Grand Canyon” state. Just keeping the travel lively!

From one of our Indiana contributors, confirmation in keeping the blog going! It seems I do a bit of reflexive reflecting on reflections. I take to heart the last recommendation. Looking forward to a worthy opponent in my Scrabble play.

Yesterday I rode my bike to ”Pat’s” house to play bridge. I arrived and engaged in the art of negotiation and defense, the joys of the game.

In the middle of play I touched my forehead and found it gritty. I continued to test my skin and concluded that I had a layer of grit all over me. I was right. The nightly news informed me that sand from the Gobi Desert is crossing our state, blown along with the smoke from fires in New Mexico and Russia, skewing our mountain view and clogging the air with particulates.

Free microdermabrasion ala Mother Nature! I may have to go for another spa ride today.

And from the annals of the APB, this gem which did make me sing.

Accompanist duties were employed this weekend, and the Saturday night gig at church was amusing for me.

The director of music, (it’s not me) failed to include a hymn in the packet. I couldn’t find it anywhere at church so I had to use my phone screen to view the music. It worked well enough for rehearsal, but I will admit, the second Mass I accompanied included stronger reading glasses!

There I am, playing the hymn for the entire congregation and the screen dimmed. I knew this would happen, so I casually touched it to bring it back to speed. Up pops a photo of my granddaughter in Easter Bunny ears! Try to get back to your little screen and fake the notes while everyone is singing and you are laughing at a photo. That is a feat.

The good news? The priest skipped that hymn at the next Mass. I guess I needed a dose of humility.

Last year I came to this beachside town with my friend and neighbor. The second day of our stay we were to meet for breakfast when I spied the young maintenance person trying to open her door. She was locked in her room! It was a humorous situation to say the least.

Fast forward to yesterday. Same travel companion and she now is unable to get INTO her room. The keycard is inoperable. Even the cleaning staff are unable to enter. This time the maintenance guy went to the room next to hers, leapt from that balcony to hers, entered the room from the oceanside and opened the door.

Though we were happy for her entry, we did question security. We have seen too many Hollywood films.

Travel always affords great adventure. Cheers!

Leave it to us. We booked the whale watching tour at Dana Point, “Dolphin and Whale Watching Capital of the World.” Registered trademark, btw.

The rare occurrence was that we saw nothing. No dolphins, no whales. The crew was disappointed. It is so rare that they offered us ”whale checks.” Free returns to try and catch Mother Nature again. Even the yearly pass-holder we met, lovely woman, said this was unique. We gave our fascinating Uber driver the tickets. (He was really neat. Successful immigrant story.)

So…here you go. I have no sea life photos. Only footprints in the sand. Who made them? Where are they going? Are they ours from the morning hike?

All I know is that some of that sand is on the floor of my room.

How do you know you are on vacation? (Aside from the fact that you can’t load your dishwasher, throw a load of laundry in, vacuum the rugs, take out the garbage, etc…) And that you get upgraded by some fault of the reservation system?

Bird of Paradise example

Being in a different environment than the one in which you live is a holy experience. That’s why I travel.